Rugby Flyer (6 page)

B
ack home in Ormondstown Eoin filled his family in on all the weekend action, and how he would be heading off to London shortly. He rang Alan to tell him too and listed off all the kit he had been given. His mum was very impressed by the amount he had accumulated, but Eoin warned her that it wouldn’t be part of his summer clothing collection.

‘You think I’d wear that around the town? They’d lynch me!’ he laughed. ‘No, leave that there in the bag and I’ll be happy with my old Munster top.’

‘Speaking of Munster, I wonder how Dylan got on,’ said his dad.

‘Oh no, he went out of my head completely,’ said Eoin. ‘I’d better head down to see him now.’

Just as Eoin got to the front door there was a banging on the other side of it. He opened it to see Dylan wearing a brand new Munster jersey and a grin as wide as
the River Shannon.

‘Howya, Eoin, how did you get on? I had a great time,’ blurted out his friend. ‘We’re entered in a competition too, and we’re off to England in a couple of weeks.’

‘Fantastic,’ said Eoin. ‘Me too! Where is this competition that you guys are in?’

Dylan laughed at him, ‘Sure where else would it be except Twickenham?’

‘I don’t believe it, Leinster are going there too – and I’m in the squad.’

The pair headed out the door and spent the next hour swopping stories about their weekend. The structure in Limerick was similar to that which Eoin had experienced in Dublin, and they realised that the whole set-up must have been organised by the IRFU.

‘I suppose they were probably doing the same in Connacht and Ulster too,’ said Dylan.

‘I wonder will they have teams in England too?’

They got their answer three days later when they both got letters from their provinces giving details of the trip and where and when to meet up for it. The teams were entered into a European competition for Under-15 players and all four Irish provinces would be taking part.

‘We’ll be playing nearly every day,’ said Eoin. ‘That’s
why they are bringing such a large squad.’

‘Munster have to play Harlequins, Glasgow and Toulon – that’s a brutal draw,’ said Dylan.

‘Sure how can you tell what the Under-15s are like in any club?’ asked Eoin. ‘Just because the adult side is strong doesn’t mean the kids will be.’

Dylan nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right. Who did the Leinsters get?’

‘Racing 92, Bath and Cardiff. I haven’t a clue what they’ll be like.’

‘If we get to the semi-final we could play you,’ said Dylan. ‘That would be deadly!’

‘Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves there,’ said Eoin. ‘Our team have never even played together before. I think there’s a plan to get a game in before we travel.’

‘We better step up the training programme then,’ said Dylan. ‘But I can’t show you any of the secret moves they gave us.’

‘Listen, Dyl, secret moves or not, I’ve enough in my own head from this weekend to keep me in headaches for a month. I’ll say nothing.’

The boys kicked a football around for a while but took an early lunch.

‘Fancy heading up to that haunted house?’ asked Dylan.

‘I suppose so. Let’s bring a torch this time and make sure you don’t scarper at the first sign of anything spooky.’

A few minutes later the boys were at the gates of the old Lubov mansion. They took their time exploring the outside of the house, checking around the back where the doors and windows were all boarded over and the pathways overgrown. Eoin had brought the photograph with him, intending to return it to where it had lain on the mantelpiece.

They clambered through the loose planks in the front door, and although it was bright inside, Dylan still switched on the torch to explore the dark corners of the rooms.

‘We’ve been around the ground floor already,’ he muttered, ‘Let’s take a look upstairs. You go first.’

The boys climbed the wide staircase, which had once been lined with paintings. Now the carpet crunched underfoot with broken pieces of plaster and dead insects.

As they reached the landing where Eoin had seen the ghostly figure some weeks before, they stopped and looked around. There was no sign of anyone this
time. They checked all the rooms and were stunned by how beautiful they still looked after years of neglect and decay. There was little evidence of the lives of the previous owners, except in the very last room they checked, which looked like it had once been a child’s bedroom.

The remains of the wallpaper showed scenes from classic fairy tales such as
Peter and the Wolf,
and Eoin studied the pictures carefully. Scrawled on the wall in a tiny, thin script was a confusing word. Part of it looked English but there were other strange letters he had never seen before.

Алексе́й

‘That must be Russian,’ said Dylan. ‘My Auntie sent me a postcard from Moscow last year and I recognise some of the letters.’

‘Wow,’ said Eoin. ‘There must have been a Russian kid living here long ago. I wonder what happened to him.’

The boys shuffled around for a while, but there was very little to see inside the mansion and there was no sign of the mysterious ghost making a reappearance. Eoin copied the letters down on the back of the photo and then realised he couldn’t now leave it behind.

‘Sure it would just rot here anyway,’ he said to himself as they climbed back out into the sunlight and began the slow jog home.

T
he next two weeks flew by as the boys worked on their skills ahead of their first rugby tour. Barney opened the gates for them early in the morning and they were often at the Gaels ground when the sun started to set.

Eoin even devised a cruel game to sharpen his goal-kicking technique. Using string and tent pegs he measured out and marked out four lines at

20, 25, 30 and 35 metres from the goal-line. He then borrowed Barney’s whitewash to paint five blobs at equal distances along each line right across the field, from touchline to touchline.

When he was finished he had twenty spots and a daunting target – kick the ball over the bar from each of the spots in the nearest line, then the second line and so on. But whenever he missed one, he had to start again. It was a difficult exercise, especially from out wide, and
it sometimes took over a hundred kicks before he converted twenty in a row.

As a result, almost every night Eoin went straight to bed, completely drained by his efforts. He and Dylan were serious about preparing for Twickenham and given Schillaci’s chip shop a miss as they ate sensibly and got plenty of sleep.

While Dylan had been cranky in the run-up to the first Munster academy session, this time he was more comfortable after making friends with his team-mates. Munster Rugby was all about togetherness and passion for your team, and he was really looking forward to joining up with them again.

Eoin was always nervous before big games, and this tour was no different – worse, probably, as Leinster could have five big games, although he didn’t expect that anyone would be asked to play in them all. He, too, felt reassured that Charlie would be there, Killian too, and that Dylan would be around the place.

Even though he hadn’t worn any of the Leinster kit, his mum insisted on washing and ironing it all carefully in the week before he left. She completed the checklist of match and training gear and equipment in Eoin’s log book and packed it all carefully in his huge kitbag. She also organised the ordinary clothes he would need for
a week away and laid them all in a suitcase open on the spare bed in his room.

‘Now, Eoin, I need you to decide what else you want to bring with you. I suppose you’ll want the rugby book Dixie bought you last week?’

Eoin nodded and promised his mum that he would sort it out later. It was only 8pm and the sun was still streaming in his bedroom window but he was so tired that he had to sleep.

He woke very early next day, and decided to go for a run. He headed out in the direction of his grandad’s house, but when he realised after ten minutes that he still hadn’t seen a single person or car he checked the time. To his surprise he found that it was just before six o’clock and far too early to call in to see Dixie.

He continued on out past his grandfather’s home and glanced through the old gates at the Lubov mansion. He came to a sudden halt and stared at the old house. Was that someone in the window? It was hard to tell as the low sun caused a glare which made it hard to see through the glass. He cupped his hand over his eyes to shield the rays, and again caught a glimpse of movement at one of the upstairs windows. It was someone dressed in white.

Eoin had a dilemma. He was naturally curious, and
really wanted to know what was going on at the old house, but he also knew that he had an important journey ahead in just a few hours, and he would be foolish to put that and the opportunity it gave him at risk. He wasn’t afraid of any potential danger in the Lubov house, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

He lifted his right hand and waved, and the figure at the window waved back. He looked closer and was sure he saw a blaze of red on the figure’s chest. Fighting his instinct to rush to the house and solve the mystery, he turned his back and jogged back towards home.

U
p in his room Eoin looked at his suitcase and wondered what else he should bring. He tossed in the biography of Johnny Sexton, but suspected he wouldn’t get much time to read on the trip. He gathered together his toothbrush and a few bits he would need. Almost as an afterthought he picked up the tiny half rugby ball his grandad had given him. ‘You might bring me luck,’ he said, staring at the odd little item about the size of a lemon before tucking it inside a sock and returning it to his kitbag.

He closed up his bags and lugged them down the stairs to where his mum and dad were waiting. His father would bring him to Dublin, but his mum had an appointment in Ormondstown, which meant she couldn’t come too. She worried about him every time he left home for school or a trip, and told him he needed to catch up on his sleep in the car.

Eoin’s dad let him doze until they neared Dublin, and called him again as they neared Belfield.

‘C’mon, son, you’ll be out playing rugby in half an hour, you’d better get yourself bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.’

Eoin took a swig from a bottle of water and rubbed his eyes. ‘Thanks, Dad, I needed that sleep. Sorry I was such boring company on the way up. I promise I’ll be full of chat on the way home next week.’

His dad laughed and told him he forgave him. He slipped him a few five-pound notes and wished him luck.

‘I’d say the results will be on the website somewhere,’ Eoin said, as he lifted his bags out and slammed the door. ‘I hope I get a game now,’ he grinned as his dad waved goodbye.

The Leinster offices were thronged with dozens of other boys bubbling with excitement, but all were silenced as soon as Ted arrived and raised his hand in the air.

‘Great, I think that’s everyone,’ he said. ‘It’s now half past eleven but your flight is not till six o’clock so I propose we have a little practice match to get you used to playing together. We’ll have another training day before the tournament starts, but we have already decided
the best approach is to divide you into two teams and reserves. The way the competition works is you will play three sixty-minute games in four days, which is a completely unreasonable workload, I believe. We are going to alternate the teams and see how that goes. The group games and semi-finals are two days apart so we might take another look at the policy if we qualify.

‘Whether you win this tournament or not is irrelevant to me,’ continued Ted. ‘I will, of course, be delighted for you if you do, but the most important thing for me is that you learn from playing with new people, and against people who play in a different way and even speak a different language. It will be exciting to be in such an atmosphere, but I’m sure you don’t need me to explain how you will be expected to behave.’

The players changed into their match gear and jogged out onto the training pitch. Ted’s assistants consulted their clipboards before pointing each player to the left or right where they collected an orange or yellow bib.

Eoin wore orange, as did Charlie. They introduced themselves to those fellow players they didn’t know, before Ted came across to talk to them.

‘OK guys, the plan is for this team to play in the second game in London, and then in the second half of the third game. It may sound a bit stupid, but we want
to give as many people as possible a chance to play. Like I said earlier, winning isn’t the most important thing.’

Eoin blinked as Ted revealed his thinking. It was a strange way to approach the tournament – surely an international trophy was worth winning?

The teams lined up and began a practice game, which was refereed by Ted. It was a very stop-start affair as he frequently held up the action to explain what would have been a better move, or to call the forwards coach onto the field to iron out an issue in the scrum.

But within half an hour both sides had started to gel well and had put some nice moves together. Eoin was working well with his scrum-half, a St Xavier’s player called Páidí Reeves who was very quick around the back of the scrum. Killian came on as a replacement at full-back for the second half and showed great pace when he got the ball.

Ted whistled for full-time and called the players together.

‘Right, men, that was a very useful exercise which has cheered me up quite a bit. We have a good bit of work to do, but you are a talented bunch and I can see where we are going with you now. With a bit of luck we could have a very enjoyable week in London. Now get your showers in and I want you all out here in
twenty minutes dressed in your Leinster tracksuits for the journey. It’s important when we travel together that we look like a united team.’