Rugby Spirit (4 page)

E
oin was terrified of upsetting Mr Finn and so spent all Saturday evening lying on his bed reading his ancient coaching book.

It wasn’t as bad as he expected, as Mr Finn had quite a good sense of humour and used lots of little stories to help make a point. The photos were a bit weird looking, with old rugby stars wearing plain-coloured jerseys that looked like they were made out of thick sackcloth.

At the very end of the book there was a picture of Mr Finn in his playing days standing beside a taller man. The History teacher had a moustache that made Eoin smile. The other man was sort of familiar, but Eoin still got a shock when he read the caption.

‘Andy Finn and “Dixie” Madden, a fine half-back partnership.’

It was the first time he had seen a photograph of his grandfather in his youth and it was noticeable how he
had obviously inherited his looks. Eoin closed the book and lay back on the pillow. There was much of the past that he didn’t know about and he was particularly
puzzled
at the mystery of his grandfather’s rugby career.

He glanced at his watch and hopped off the bed. It was a quarter to nine, just time for a quick phone call home to his mum and dad.

He walked quickly down the stairs to the common room where one of the fifth year boys was on the phone. He went on and on, and Eoin kept glancing at his watch. At two minutes to nine he hung up, smirking at the younger boy as he walked away.

Eoin grabbed the receiver and hurriedly punched the number into the phone. His mum answered and sounded delighted to hear from him.

‘It’s great to talk to you, Eoin,’ said his Mum, ‘but it’s not like you to ring on a Saturday night. I hope you’re all right?’

‘I’m fine, Mum, is Dad there?’ he asked.

‘Why, is there something wrong?’ she asked.

‘No, I just need to ask him something.’

Eoin’s father came on the line.

‘How are you, son?’ he asked, sounding slightly
concerned
.

‘I’m fine, Dad,’ said Eoin, ‘I’ve just been thinking
about Grandad and was wondering why he never kept up playing rugby. They all go on about him up here and even the kids seem to know more about him than I do.’

‘Well …’ said Dad, hesitantly, ‘I’m not sure I can go into that now. Grandad is a very private man …’

With that, one of the teachers came around the corner blowing a whistle.

‘Nine o’clock, bed time for all juniors!’ he bellowed. ‘You! Hang up that call,’ he said, pointing at Eoin.

‘OK, Dad, I’ve got to go,’ said Eoin, ‘talk to you soon.’

He replaced the receiver in its cradle and raced back up the stairs. He barely had time to change into his pyjamas when the lights went out.

‘Good night, guys,’ he called out, but his room-mates were already asleep.

A
lan was proved right about Mr Finn and his History class on Monday. He spent most of the lesson talking about old-time rugby and how different a game it was then. He explained that when he first played it was just three points for a try, before it was increased to four in 1971 and five in 1991.

Back then there was not as much emphasis on fitness and coaching, and players weren’t paid to play.

‘It was amazing,’ he explained. ‘Fellows would spend all week working in a bank or a coal-mine and then on Saturday they would turn up and play for their country. They just didn’t have the time to practise and train as much as modern players. But it was much more fun …’

‘Sir,’ said Charlie Johnston, who played No.8 on the 13As. ‘Sir, were you a good player back then?’

‘No, no, no, not at all,’ said Mr Finn. ‘I was a very
limited
scrum-half, but I played on a very good team, and
had a world-class out-half alongside me.’

Eoin blushed, already aware which way the
conversation
was going.

‘Richard Madden and I formed a half-back
partnership
when we were your age, boys, and kept it going for more than a decade. We won the Schools Junior Cup, Schools Senior Cup and then the Leinster Senior Cup with the old boys’ club. I still consider myself fortunate to have achieved what I did in the game. The sport of rugby has given me immense pleasure over the years and I enjoy nothing more than watching young men such as yourselves learning to have the same fun. Some of you may even be good enough to become
professional
players in the future, but I do hope you remember that at its heart this is still a pastime, a fabulous way of enjoying yourself with your friends.’

Eoin thought about what Mr Finn had said as he walked to his next class. He met Rory on the way.

‘Hey, Madden, Mr Carey was obviously impressed with the two of us on Saturday. We’ve both been
promoted
to the 13Bs for the game on Wednesday!’

Eoin was stunned, and a little upset by the news. All his pals were on the 13Cs, and he felt he wasn’t nearly good enough to be moving up after just one game.

By Wednesday he was deeply unhappy. To make
matters
worse, Alan hadn’t reacted at all well to the news.

‘We’ve a good thing going on the Cs,’ he complained, ‘can’t you just tell Bandy you don’t want to play Bs?’

‘Ah come on, where would that get me?’ answered Eoin, ‘I’d be hammered for that. No way would he let me.’

Alan’s rugby lessons came to an abrupt halt and the two only exchanged words when they had to.

As kick-off time approached Eoin was sitting in the Bs’ dressing room waiting for Mr Carey or Mr Maguire to come in and give the team talk. He looked around at his new team-mates and realised they were just as
nervous
as he was. If he remembered the coach’s words he’d be fine.

Suddenly, in strode Mr Carey, looking quite flustered.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘who plays centre on this team?’

Two boys put their hands up.

‘McCann … Anderson …’ he muttered, before his eyes travelled along the benches that ran around three of the walls.

His eyes stopped when they reached Eoin.

‘Madden,’ he said. ‘That Redmond lad has just gone over on his ankle in the warm-up. We’re short a centre on the As. Come with me.’

Eoin’s face fell. He wanted to say ‘But, sir—’ but his
mouth was so dry he could barely get a squeak out. He stood up and followed the coach out the door.

Out on the field the 13As were gathered around a boy who was lying on the ground sobbing. He was clearly in pain and Miss O’Dea, the school nurse, was wrapping a bandage around his ankle.

As Eoin came towards them, Richie Duffy looked up and glared at him.

‘Right, team, gather round,’ said Mr Carey, ‘This is Eoin Madden, he’s new this year, but he’ll do a good job for us today. He’ll slot in at full back and Billy Ryan can move to outside centre. Now let’s get warmed up again. Quickly!’

Mr Carey took Eoin aside.

‘Right, Eoin, I want you to keep things very simple today. Just concentrate on collecting the high balls and making your tackles. I don’t want you coming through looking for interceptions – this is a higher-level rugby and they’ll punish any mistakes you make. But enjoy yourself, and learn.’

To enjoy himself was the last thing Eoin expected from the game, and he was proved correct. He made some tackles, but missed a couple too and on a couple of occasions the opposition players crashed right through his grasp.

Castlerock escaped with a 20-20 draw, but Eoin was directly to blame for their opponents’ final, equalising try. Richie Duffy was quick to remind him of the missed tackle as the teams walked off at the end.

‘You are so rubbish, Madden. I don’t expect we’ll see you on this team again,’ he muttered.

Eoin walked away, wishing Alan and Rory were there to give him support. He bit his lip, not sure whether a reply to Duffy was a good idea, but certain that to show even a single tear would destroy his name in the school.

I
t seemed to Eoin as if life couldn’t get much worse.

‘Thirty-two nil. And we were lucky to get nil,’ moaned Alan in the dormitory that night, ‘thanks a bunch, buddy’.

‘Ah come on, Alan, I had no choice. And even if I played for the Cs I wouldn’t have made much
difference
, surely?’ Eoin replied.

Alan shrugged, turned his back on him, and returned to sharing his woes with Mighty the Mouse.

The guys on the 13Bs were a bit miffed, too, at his brief appearance in their dressing room, while the 13As blamed that missed tackle for costing them their 100 per cent record.

All in all, it was a pretty awful couple of days for Eoin.

The double period of History on Friday wasn’t until after lunch, which was why everyone was surprised when Mr Finn poked his head around the door before
the first class that morning.

‘Gentlemen,’ he announced, ‘We will have a special excursion this afternoon. We will meet at the front of the school at 1.15pm. Please be punctual or we will be forced to leave you behind for a triple period of
Mathematics
.’

And with that, he was gone.

There was much speculation about the destination of the trip, with most of the boys expecting a return visit to Kilmainham Gaol or the National Museum.

‘It’ll be the only time the boggers will get to see their Mummies this side of Christmas,’ sneered Richie Duffy.

But they were all wrong.

The bus drove towards the city, but after a short
journey
they turned into a leafy road and crossed the Dart tracks. Everyone stared out the windows at the colossal structure overhead.

As they arrived, Mr Finn stood up at the front of the bus.

‘Gentlemen, welcome to Lansdowne Road, or the Aviva Stadium as it is now called. This fine structure took four years to build and was opened in 2010. It replaced the old rugby ground which holds so many memories for me, and of course for the school.

‘We will be having a tour of the stadium and
hearing
something of its extraordinary history. You are
representing
your school, so I expect you gentlemen to be on your best behaviour and to respect the places we visit and the people we meet.’

The group stepped down from the bus on Lansdowne Road and went through the double glass doors to the stadium foyer.

A friendly young woman brought them through the turnstile into a long, high tunnel. ‘This tunnel goes right around the ground. We need it so big to get buses and ambulances right into the stadium,’ she explained.

She led the boys up a passageway into a brightly-lit area with huge murals showing great footballers and rugby players of the past.

‘This is the players’ tunnel, where they run out onto the pitch. They come out of their dressing rooms, on either side here, when it’s near kick-off time.’

Eoin noticed how some of the guys were wide-eyed with wonderment, one or two even practising their strut along the tunnel, lost in some long-held dream that they might take that same walk some day when the stadium was full.

There was none of that nonsense in Eoin’s head, just a growing boredom and the growing realisation that he probably didn’t like rugby at all.

‘Keep up, Mr Madden,’ said Mr Finn, ‘We’re going into the players’ area now. It’s very impressive.’

The group walked into the home dressing room and took a seat on the long benches around the walls. The guide showed the boys the DVD screen where last minute tactics could be explained, and they were
suitably
impressed by the enormous shower and bathing area.

‘There were five shower heads between the team when I last played here,’ smiled Mr Finn, ‘And only two of them produced warm water.’

The guide showed them into another part of the
players
’ area – a huge room with a floor covered in artificial grass. ‘This is where players can practise last minute
line-out
calls, or even do some kicking,’ she explained.

Even Mr Finn’s eyes widened at this extraordinary facility.

‘What will they think of next?’ he wondered aloud.

The boys took it in turn to squeeze through the narrow door into the warm-up room and, as Eoin had been in the first group, he wandered around outside waiting for the rest of the party to finish.

He realised that he hadn’t exchanged a single word with anyone on the trip, as his only current friend, Rory, was back at school with a high temperature.

He rambled down a corridor looking for the
bathroom
, but after taking a couple of turns he realised all the doors looked the same and he wasn’t sure which way to go next. He tried a couple of the doorknobs, but the rooms were locked.

Eoin noticed the last door on the corridor had a white square on the door with a red cross in the middle, which he worked out was the First Aid room.

He tried the handle and the door opened, and he went straight to the lavatory. As he washed his hands he heard a noise behind him and turned quickly.

Sitting on the treatment table was a young man
wearing
a black, red and yellow hooped jersey and black shorts. He was holding his head in his hands and what Eoin could see of his face looked very pale.

‘Hello, are you OK?’ asked Eoin.

The man lifted his head and stared at Eoin.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘I’m Eoin. I’m here on a school tour and just got lost. Are you injured?’

‘I suppose you could say that. I got a knock to my head a while ago. It still hurts. What school are you from?’

‘Castlerock,’ said Eoin.

‘Ahhh, Castlerock,’ said the man, ‘Had a few good games against them in my school days. Good team, they
won everything for years.’

Eh? He must be confused after that knock on the head,
thought Eoin.

‘Where are you from?’ asked the man.

‘Ormondstown,’ said Eoin, ‘It’s in Tipper—’

‘I know exactly where it is,’ he replied, ‘Sure amn’t I from Clonmel myself? I thought I recognised your accent. Do you play rugby up in Castlerock yourself?’

‘I do, but I’m not sure I like it very much. I’ve just started and they promoted me from the Cs to the As after one game. I haven’t a clue what’s going on half the time and when I do something wrong everyone blames me.’

‘Ah sure, didn’t the same happen to me when I first came up to school. I had a brother who was pretty good – he went on to play for Ireland – and everyone thought I was going to be a natural. I never even saw a game of rugby down home in Clonmel before I was picked on the school team. They made a right fool of me.’

‘How did you get around it?’ asked Eoin.

‘I worked at it, learned everything I could about the game and practised on my own whenever I could.’

‘I’m not sure I want to go through all that…’ started Eoin.

‘Listen,’ said the man, ‘Just you remember that rugby
is a great game for young lads. It will help you get fit and stay fit, and it teaches you all sorts of things about teamwork and co-operation. It suits all shapes and sizes and a friend you make on the rugby pitch will be a friend for life.’

The pair talked for a few minutes about a few of the things Eoin found tricky, including the best way to make a tackle.

Eoin suddenly realised he had been there for twenty minutes and the teachers would be looking for him.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said, ‘thanks for the tips.’

‘No bother at all,’ said the man, ‘if you need any more help I’m usually around here somewhere. Do call back and say hello. By the way, my name’s Brian.’

Eoin trotted up the corridor and back through the dressing rooms. He arrived back in the tunnel just as the Castlerock group came back in from the pitch.

‘Mr Madden, did you run ahead?’ asked Mr Finn. ‘I didn’t see you out in the arena.’

‘No sir, I was tagging along,’ said Eoin. ‘I had a stone in my shoe, maybe you didn’t see me because I was bending down?’ he suggested.

The tour wound up and the boys all climbed back into the bus. Mr Finn came down the aisle and sat in beside Eoin for a minute.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, ‘You seem in bad form.’

‘No sir, I’ll be fine,’ muttered Eoin.

The teacher stood up, nodded, and walked away,
leaving
Eoin alone with confused thoughts about whether he really disliked rugby or not. He thought about Brian and his sensible advice.

He’d give it another go.