The Runners (13 page)

‘All the big fish hide in the shadow,’ explained Bobby.

‘To get out of the hot sun?’

‘No mam, to get away from fishermen’s hooks.’

Bobby loved making people laugh. He knew
Jay was going to be asleep but he was still going to make him laugh.

The entrance to Temple Street Hospital was like the front door of a house. The old Georgian building was more modern inside than Bobby imagined. It had the immediate smell of hospital. There were signs for the different wards. Each one was named after a saint. Jay was in St Mark’s.

There was a big statue of Jesus in a glass cabinet on the wall. He had a long, red, velvety cape on. Bobby thought he looked more like a superhero.

‘Dad, he looks more like Superman.’

The ward sister looked straight down her pointy nose at Bobby.

‘That is St Mark.’

She pointed to a plaque on the wall. It had a description of St Mark that Bobby didn’t want to read.

‘Where is Jay?’

She led them down a short corridor. There were rooms with six beds and rooms with four beds. Jay was in a much smaller room. It had a window that looked directly at the large flats across the road. That was the best view Jay could have wished for. Bobby was a bit tentative. He didn’t expect the number of machines and wires, even though he knew they would be there. There was a constant beeping noise. Jay had tubes in both nostrils. His
hands were down by his side. Laura held one of them and just looked at him. Bobby put his hand on Jay’s arm. He had light blue pyjamas on.

‘Thanks for coming, Bobby,’ whispered Bernie, as she made her way to the side of the bed.

She held Jay’s hand and put her arm around Bobby.

‘They said he is stable, which is good news, I suppose.’

‘It is, Bernie, it is.’

Laura moved to embrace Bernie. Bobby put his hand on Jay’s face.

‘I’ll be back with the All-Ireland trophy,’ Bobby whispered at him.

Bobby had a feeling that he was going to win the fight. His dad told him just to concentrate on relaxing.

‘Win the fight and Jay will be OK.’

He believed his dad.

Laura had never been to see Bobby box. She hated it and it took months of protesting from Bobby for her even to allow him to go training.

‘Why in God’s name would I want to see someone punching my son in the head?’

‘You’ll be watching me avoiding the punches.’

‘I don’t want to see you punching anyone in the head either.’

She just didn’t get boxing. It disgusted her. She couldn’t even watch Barry McGuigan.

To get to the dressing-rooms in the National Boxing Stadium, Bobby had to walk through the main auditorium, where the ring was. He couldn’t believe the number of people in the crowd. He knew the stadium capacity was eight thousand. It
was about a quarter full. The finals spread out over two days. It started with the lower weights and moved up to the heavier boxers. Bobby looked around the changing-room for his opponent. Anto wanted him to get in the zone. There was no talking while Anto strapped up Bobby’s hands. He massaged Bobby’s legs to get them loose, then put Deep Heat on them. Bobby loved the smell, even though it stung the inside of his nostrils. Anto took two red vests and two blue vests out of his bag. They had St Francis Boxing Club written on the back. Bobby turned them around to see the front. Two had the initials JMcC on them and two had BR on them. Seeing the initials gave Bobby the nervous knot in his stomach that he thought would have been there all week.

‘I’m wearing Jay’s vest.’

Anto smiled, knowing that was the decision Bobby was going to make.

‘You’re fighting for Jay tonight.’

Bobby didn’t answer him.

‘Stay calm and focused.’

Bobby nodded. He was in the zone and Anto knew it. He talked to him but Bobby didn’t really hear what he was saying. Bobby knew what he had to do. He repeated Anto’s words over and over in his mind. ‘Stay calm and focused.’

‘Do you know what you’re going to do?’ asked Anto.

Bobby nodded again. Defend and counter-punch. That’s what he would do for the first minute. Look for his opponent’s weaknesses.

‘Ryan in the blue corner, fighting Wilson in the red corner. Boxers to the centre of the ring please.’

Bobby stared into his opponent’s eyes. He didn’t see any fear. Bobby walked forwards with his hands held high. Wilson threw a flurry of punches at Bobby’s head, none of which were able to penetrate Bobby’s high guard. Bobby bounced on his toes and moved from side to side. He threw a left jab that connected with Wilson’s nose. Wilson retaliated with strong lefts and rights that stunned Bobby. He held on to his opponent’s arms to get a breather. He knew he had lost the first round. He would have to win the next two to be victorious.

Anto was calm in the corner. He had his routine. Gumshield out. Water in. Three small slugs. First one, gargle it and spit it out. Next two, drink them.

‘You need to start throwing more punches. You’re one round down. Don’t let him throw the first punch. Are you OK?’

Bobby felt a bit sluggish. There was no adrenaline driving him on.

‘He’s very strong.’

‘So are you. But not if you don’t try and hit him.’

Anto put Bobby’s gumshield in and slapped him on the side of the headguard.

‘Do it for Jay.’

Bobby walked out with determination. Only two rounds left. He was going to throw as many punches as he physically could. The bell went for the start of round two, and as he walked forwards, he could see it was Jay walking towards him. He froze and dropped his hands. Wilson hit him harder than he had been ever hit in his life. His head spun as he fell to the canvas. When he got to his feet he could hear the referee saying ‘five, six, seven, eight’.

‘Are you OK to box on?’

‘Yes,’ said Bobby, as he held his gloves up to show he was OK.

He walked forward and saw Wilson. He threw a few punches, none of which landed. Wilson sensed he had the fight won. He pushed Bobby away with both gloves, landing a few punches just as the bell sounded.

Anto had a look of disappointment Bobby could understand. He was about to lose without giving it his best. Anto was always able to get the best out of Bobby. Now Bobby was going to let him down. All the years of training, to lose in the final.

‘Sit down and listen.’

Bobby sat down and took a deep breath. In his nose and out his mouth.

‘You are lucky to be able to fight. Think about what Jay would do to be here now. Go out there and knock him out. He is coming in with his left
hand held low. Fake to throw a left, and throw a big right hand.’

‘A big right hand.’

Bobby pictured the punch in his head. A knockout was now his only chance of winning. He stood up from his seat and shook his hands down by his side. His arms were getting tired. He walked to the centre of the ring. Jay walked towards him again.

‘Knock me out, Bobby. Knock me out, Bobby.’

Bobby tried to focus on Wilson’s left glove. He saw it dropping. He faked a left punch and followed it with a massive right hook. It connected flush on the side of Wilson’s head, knocking him straight to the canvas. Bobby was sent to the corner of the ring while the referee counted to eight. Wilson didn’t make it to his feet on time. The referee put his arms out to signal the end of the fight. Bobby didn’t feel the elation he thought he would. Anto jumped into the ring and lifted him up in the air.

‘You did it, you did it.’

The referee approached Bobby and signalled for him to go to the opposing corner to shake hands. He gave Wilson a hug.

‘Well done,’ said his coach.

‘It was a lucky punch.’

The difference between the winner’s trophy and the loser’s trophy was twelve inches. A photographer took a picture of both boxers holding their
marble-bottomed plastic statues. Bobby looked down to see his dad and brother at ringside. Kevin had never seen Bobby fight. It was the first time Bobby had seen him looking proud of one of his achievements.

His dad lifted him up in the air, too, when he came down the steps of the ring.

‘Well done,’ said Kevin. ‘That was some punch.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you coming home with us?’

Bobby looked at Anto.

‘I’m going to stay and watch a few fights. I’ll go home with Anto.’

His dad didn’t object. Bobby put the trophy in his kitbag. It just about fitted. Anto took the tape off his hands and left him on his own to change. Bobby had no intention of staying to watch any more fights. He was going to Temple Street to show Jay his All-Ireland trophy, just like he said he would. He walked into the auditorium and saw Anto talking to one of the white-jacketed referees. He sneaked around the opposite side and walked out into the cool night air, a champion.

Bobby calculated that the run from the National Stadium to Temple Street was seven kilometres. He could jog a kilometre in five minutes without being out of breath. It was quicker to jog than to take the bus. And free.

Temple Street had visiting hours. That meant Bobby had to bonk in. If he could bonk into Dalymount, he knew he could bonk into a hospital that had a front door that was never locked. Jay’s motto of not looking suspicious was in his head. Bobby strolled straight past the reception desk, not needing to glance sideways to see a nurse busy scribbling something on a chart. He walked slowly up the wide staircase, holding the mahogany banister for support. It was shining and smelled of fresh polish. Each step creaked, even under Bobby’s slight, thirty-one-kilo frame. The marble base had stuck into Bobby’s back on the run, but it was only a little bit of pain, so he ignored it.

The noise was gone. The noise of the beeping machine. Jay was lying much lower in the bed. Bobby noticed the tubes were gone. Jay’s hands were under the sheet, which was pulled up onto his face. He was asleep without the tubes. Bobby felt a rush of excitement when he realised Jay didn’t need the machines any more.

‘I brought you a Pepsi.’

He did his magic trick to stop it spilling, and the noise the lid made was amplified by the silence.

‘And I brought you the trophy.’

Bobby pulled the sheet back and put the trophy alongside Jay.

‘I wore your vest. You’re going to love it. It has your initials on it.’

Bobby dipped his little finger into the can and let a drop fall on Jay’s lips. He expected to see that cheeky smile. There was no reaction at all. The black drop dripped down Jay’s lip and rested on his chin, before falling sideways down his face. Bobby heard the unmistakeable sound of sobbing. The repetitive breaths in, followed by the repetitive breaths out. It got louder and louder. Bernie walked in with a priest dressed in black, and a nurse dressed in white on either side of her. It was like they were holding her up, but she was walking. She looked up and saw Bobby.

‘No,’ she screamed. ‘Please God, no.’

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Bobby.

The priest got down on his hunkers and looked Bobby in the eye.

‘Jay passed away.’

‘But I brought him a Pepsi. Try giving him the Pepsi,’ said Bobby, getting agitated.

He took the can and tried to pour it in Jay’s mouth. It fizzed up on his lips and spilled down his face.

‘Bobby, he’s dead,’ shrieked Bernie.

‘No, he’s not. He needs the Pepsi. Give him the Pepsi.’

Bobby tried to give Jay another drink. The priest grabbed his arm and took the can. He held Bobby in a hug. Bobby didn’t want to be hugged by him. Or anybody. Jay couldn’t be dead. He was only thirteen.

Bobby wriggled free and ran past Bernie and the nurse. He didn’t stop running. He ran outside. He didn’t have his bag with him. It didn’t matter. He ran as fast as he could, down the canal over the bridge, down Sackville Avenue and home. He stood outside his house and looked around. These streets were his, and Jay’s. Jay couldn’t be dead.

‘Show me the trophy.’

Laura was delighted and she wanted Bobby to be, too.

‘I left it with Jay.’

‘You went to the hospital?’

She looked at him for a moment, not sure if he was messing or not. Bobby felt his brain changing. It started to tingle.

‘How could you get to the hospital and back so quick?’ asked his dad.

Why did that matter? thought Bobby. His throat had dried up and he couldn’t answer.

‘Jay is dead,’ he managed to get out.

He sat down on the edge of the couch. His mother jumped down on the floor in front of him.

‘Oh, Jesus. Oh Lord Jesus Christ,’ she cried out.

His mam never even went to church.

Bobby prayed to Jay, asking him to stop the flow of pee. Jay answered and he was dry. For the first time ever, Bobby heard someone downstairs
before him. His mam read out loud the article that mentioned Jay in the paper. She showed him the death notice. It said there would be a wake at Jay’s address, followed by funeral mass in St Agatha’s Church. Bobby could see huge black bags under his mam’s eyes. She worried about most things all the time, so he knew she was horrified by what had happened.

‘What’s a wake?’

‘The wake is where they lay the body out in the home of the family for people to come and pay their respects.’

‘And it stays in the house for two days?’

‘It does. It’s an older way of doing things. When someone so young dies, it’s a nice way of allowing people to pay their respects.’

Bobby thought it was ironic that laying a dead body out was called a wake. Why didn’t they call it a sleep?

Bobby was nervous before going up to the flat. He was made to wear his Confirmation suit. His mam and dad held hands as they walked him down the avenue. Bobby walked behind them, thinking about how he had held hands with Jay when they jumped off the wall of the paper factory. From the bottom of Sackville Avenue, he could see there was a queue coming out the bottom of the stairwell, and out onto the street. Bobby thought of the
number of times he had raced Jay up and down stairwells. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Jay’s dead body again. He heard Jay’s voice in his head. ‘Don’t chicken out now. Come and see me.’

He turned around and saw Anto standing behind him. Anto shook hands with Bobby’s mam and dad. Nobody was talking. People were walking down the stairwell with their heads bowed, not making eye contact with anyone. The line moved slowly but, before he knew it, Bobby was at the front door. He could feel himself welling up. He didn’t want to cry, but he knew he had no control over his tears. A few people were standing on the stairs inside the flat. He could see the coffin laid out in the living room. He couldn’t see inside it from where he was standing, but he could see it was surrounded by flowers and people. Inside the living room, people paused at the right-hand side of the coffin, and said a prayer, before moving around to pay their condolences to Bernie. Bobby blessed himself the way Jay had shown him. Three taps of the hands together and then he kissed them. Jay was wearing a navy suit Bobby had never seen him in before. He had a white shirt and red tie on. The tie was on properly, not all over the place. Bobby wanted to loosen so it looked like his school tie. He closed his eyes and spoke to Jay in his head.