The Gamal (21 page)
Water boy
I was the water boy for that team so I was able to keep a fairly close eye on how things went. James was never too pushed about the pints with the lads after training and matches but it’s what Dinky lived for more than anything. More than hanging around with us or the school crowd. More than chasing girls. More than anything. To be pinting with the older lads was the highlight of his life.
The Pub
Anyhow, Teesh and Dinky went to The Snug usually after training cos it was across from the pitch. Dinky liked to be sucking up to Teesh and the other lads. That was something James never really cared about. Snoozie would show his face for a pint or two as well. That was more for business than anything else. Snoozie might have been bored by a lot of the old sucking up too, but that team meant a lot of business to his old fella so ’twas important to keep them onside. Most of the time he made sure he was inside the bar serving the pints as opposed to on the other side. That way he didn’t have to drink. His heart wasn’t in the pub. He’d end up working with his brother anyhow. When Dinky dragged James into the pub after training there were always a couple of the older lads there first.
—How are the boys?
—Oho horse, how’s things?
—Oho look who’s in! The bould Dinky and the Landlordeen, Teesh goes.
—Oho, the future of the club!
—What’s the club coming to, ha?
—Two young alcomyholics!
—All right My Boy, Teesh goes then in a posh English accent.
—What’ll it be lads?
—I’ll have a pint!
—How about yourself good sir?
—I’ll just have an orange juice please, said James.
—You will in your hole! Two pints for the young lads please. And an orange for the gamal. Prince fucking William wanted orange juice!
—Ha?
—You could drink a barrel of that oul’ orange sure and you still wouldn’t get drunk.
—’Tis fucking soberer you’d get.
—Soberer! You’re some gobshite. Will you talk proper English and don’t be insulting the Landlordeen’s language.
—We’re only joking ya James boy, take no notice of that eejit either, his mother dropped him on his head and he a young fella.
—Better than being dropped on your face like
you
were.
—So what do ye think of playing in the big time, lads, ha? Christ ’tis no bother at all to you James boy, you’re better than half of us already.
—Ah I wouldn’t say that!
—Don’t mind your false modesty at all boy, there’s no place for false modesty in this pub. I knows I’m brilliant and I’ve no problems telling people!
—Dinky didn’t do too bad in training there either boy. Fleming got a couple of goals off ya but the second one was lucky. You’re doing all right Dinky boy, don’t let any fella tell you any differ.
—I’m still a bit off the pace though.
—’Twill come boy, ’twill come. You’re only seventeen and Rome wasn’t built in a day.
—You’ll get full marks for effort anyway Dinky boy, and that’s what makes a player great, not what he’s born with.
—Here here to that. I’ve seen many a talented player in this club go by the wayside because he didn’t have it in his heart. Heart is everything boy.
—And Dinky,
you’re
all heart, you might be fucking useless but heart will get you on the team!
—Sure talent is only a hindrance to cornerbacks. They’d only be trying oul’ fancy flicks and dandy tricks with the ball instead of kicking it a mile out the field.
—Now you’re talking. James you’ve too much of the oul’ fancy stuff. Catch the ball and kick the fucking thing, end of story.
—Will you shut up and leave the lad alone. You’re only annoyed that he roasted you in training.
—But the Rovers have always had a simple game plan. That’s how we all know what the next man on the team is thinking.
—Trouble is the opposition know as well. Maybe we need to vary things a bit. Keep them guessing. Maybe that’s why we haven’t won anything in fifteen years.
That was the bold James who spoke last. Silenced them for a while it did. Don’t think no young fella had ever spoken to these parish godeens like that before. The two senior players he said it to were Teesh and Snoozie. Anyhow Snoozie and Teesh sat quietly for a little while after what James said about tactics. I just sat there looking at them and I let a bit of spit fall out of my mouth and I looked where it landed on my lap and I gave it a good hard rub and then I jerked my head back up and looked at them again for a bit of notice. Teesh noticed.
—What do you think Gamal?
—Ha? About what?
—Well said Gamal! About what indeed!
—Come here to me Gamal, are you washing them water bottles at all or what?
—I am yeah, why?
—There’s a shitty oul’ taste off the water.
—Don’t mind him Gamal, in the name of God.
—I washes them with hot sudsy water after training every day.
—And do you wash the suds out of them?
—I do. I washes them with no sudsy water before I fill them with the cold water.
—Ha! By Christ Gamal, you’re a beaut’ if ever there was one. I washes them with no sudsy water! Ha!
—You wouldn’t find it in a comic!
—Good lad Gamal, you’re a good lad, and don’t let anyone ever tell ya any differ. I washes them with no sudsy water, ha?
They were in tears laughing. I likes to keep the opposition guessing too.
Then Snoozie disappeared into the house behind the bar for a bit. Anyhow he came out to the bar then again after a bit. Sent out by the father to make sure they didn’t get the hump and go drinking up the road.
—How. Are. Ye. Now?
—Nice shit Snoozie?
—Not. Too. Bad.
—Did you wash your hands with no sudsy water?
—No. Sudsy. Water! Ha? Doubt ya Gamal,
boy
!
— What do you think of what Prince William was saying about changing the way we play?
—Each. Man. To. His. Own. Ha?
—To his own, yeah!
—Dinky did all right in training didn’t he?
—He. Did. In. Fairness. Yeah.
—Good for us old farts as well. Keeps us on our toes.
—That’s. Right. It’s vital sure.
—Vital, yeah.
It’s Halloween. The 31st of October. No it isn’t. It’s the day after now. 00:44. But it was Halloween all day and this evening I could hear my mother telling children how scary they were and they calling to the door. My mother loves children. My father does too but he pretends not to cos he’s a man so he stayed in the sitting room reading the paper but every once in a while he’d pretend he was going into the kitchen to get something so he’d pass the hall so he could see the little children who called to the door being ghosts and monsters and witches.
—Lord God aren’t ye scary, he’d say.
—They’re very scary, my mother would say and she filling their bags with sweets.
The children never said anything. I think they were scared. This would be a good time to tell of a Halloween from when Sinéad and James and me were younger. Not that young though. About sixteen.
The older kids were always out trying to scare the life out of the trick-or-treaters. Usually it was twelve-year-olds scaring littler ones but Dinky and Racey and Teesh and Snoozie were still doing it well into their teens and me and Sinéad and James weren’t sure if we liked that so we came up with a plan. Music was one thing we had in common. Another thing we had in common was that we weren’t afraid of graveyards. Dinky and Racey and Teesh and Snoozie were planning a big fright for all the kids and had a hose set up from behind the school to drench them too. They wanted us to come but Sinéad and James said no. We were sixteen and Teesh and Snoozie were nineteen. Anyhow, I’m not sure how to make this dramatic cos it wasn’t really that dramatic at all. All we did was practised for a few nights in the castle. James took off the big brass cone-shaped speaker thing off the old gramophone in the library and Sinéad made this sound into it. James hammered the low keys on a xylophone really fast while Sinéad made the noise. It was a noise the like of you’d never really hear. In Ireland there’s a spirit called the Banshee. She was heard only by an unfortunate few at night-time and if you heard it, it meant that one of your relatives was going to die that night. If you saw it that was very unfortunate for you cos that meant the person going to die was you. The sound Sinéad made was a screeching howling mournful wail and you’d never think someone so pretty could make such a sound. You’d think only the Banshee could make that sound. James’ hammering on the low keys of the xylophone only made it all the stranger. It sounded like the most awful deathly sound and it made Dinky and Racey and Teesh and Snoozie run past the graveyard faster than they’d ever ran before or since. Snoozie’s father lost a good hose that night too cos they never went back to get it and never spoke a word of what happened since. We asked them if they went scaring the trick-or-treaters and they said no.
It’s the only sound Sinéad and James ever made that I don’t wish you could have heard. Myself and James were crying laughing straight away when we saw them scampering but Sinéad was committed to the performance and kept the howling screech going for about twenty seconds. Sinéad could hold her breath under water for nearly two minutes. She could outlast the fella who sang lovely day lovely day lovely day lovely daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay so the wail didn’t even test her.
Probably the only test ever for Sinéad was singing along with the Luke Kelly record of ‘Rocky Road to Dublin’. If you listen to Luke Kelly singing it it’s hard to think of where he might have stopped for breath but the people who were in the pub that it was recorded in swear blind that he drank a pint of Guinness and smoked a cigarette while he was singing it too. The performance of it was a lot of things and one of the things it was, was athletic. It tested Sinéad physically more than I ever seen any song do. I seen fellas trying to sing that song nowadays on the telly. Bunch of four of them it took to get through it. They had to take turns same as a fucking relay race.
Anyhow Racey was in a state and Sinéad wanted to go after her to calm her down but James stopped her saying think of all the children we’re saving from getting soaked to the skin. We watched them all passing up and down the road. The clueless little witches and ghouls. Some were ushered on by their older brothers or sisters whose mammies made them take out the little ones and look after them. Bored and embarrassed they were.
—It’s weird, isn’t it? Sinéad said.
—What is?
—Just like, the way . . . that like one time all the people who are buried here dressed up in little costumes and went trick-or-treating too. And all their grannies and granddads and all the other big people that saw them pretended to be spooked by them. Just for fun like. To make them happy and excited in their cute little ridiculous outfits. And they’re all dead now, the whole lot of them.
—It’s sad yeah.
—It’s kind of awesome too though isn’t it? Like . . . the honour of it. I hope they can hear us talking about them. I’m sure they can, Sinéad said. Her eyes filled up a small bit.
—Yeah I think so too, James said.
—What do you think Charlie?
—Dunno. I suppose they don’t mind either way.
It was getting late now and all the trick-or-treaters were in bed with bellies full of sweets.
James messed around quietly on the xylophone and Sinéad hummed softly. James had his old duffel coat around her.
—I think we should write a song for all those who lie here, Sinéad goes.
—OK, said James. Like an ode to life maybe or something.
—What kind of song would they write if they could come back? Sinéad said, all quiet and whispery but with a tiny bit of voice too.
—I suppose about things they wished they could’ve seen when they were alive.
—Yeah, like. Be cool to see how we look to dead people. The living like.
Went silent for a bit then. Could hear the odd car in the distance on the main road. Sinéad spoke then again.
—That was so funny, the kid complaining about the apples.
Earlier on we heard a little lad complaining to his companions and we’d a laugh.
—How many fucking apples have ye in yer bags? That old bitch gave me another two apples. Sure we’ve loads of fucking apples at home.
Anyhow Sinéad went on.
—People count everything, don’t they?
—I suppose, said James, and he still tapping quietly on the xylophone keys.
Sinéad sang quietly around James’ notes. She was guiding them. Coaxing them into her melody.
Count the hours that you sleep
Count the light years
—That’s nice, said James.
—What rhymes with sleep?
—Peep! Keep. Weep . . . deep.
—Keep playing that little tune a second.
