by Felice Arena
When Specky took his position at full-forward, he immediately noticed changes in the Irish defence. Gone were the big slow players they were up against in the first half. They had all been replaced by much smaller, quicker defenders.
Damien Kelly, Specky’s original opponent, was nowhere to be seen, and he now found himself matched up on an opponent named Fergus O’Doherty, a wiry blond defender from Northern Ireland. Fergus had a no-nonsense reputation as one of the best young ‘stoppers’ in the country.
The second half got underway and Specky was aware of a stark difference in their opponents’ style of play. The Irish slowed the speed of the match right down, and using their magnificent kicking skills, maintained possession at every opportunity by kicking the ball short and wide.
Specky ran harder than he ever had, but each time he went to contest the ball, it was transferred to the other side of the ground by way of a chain of short, precise kicks. Eamon O’Sullivan was dominating the play and the entire tempo of the match.
‘Here we go, Brian. The Australians might have clawed their way back into contention, but the Irish boys have learnt their lesson and are running down the clock. The Aussies currently lead by ten points, but that will only be enough to win the game. They need to win by at least nineteen to take the series.
True, Tommy, but it would be a hollow victory if the Irish won the series by playing it safe. I would have thought they’d back themselves and try for a clean sweep.
Specky could feel the series slipping away. He was still winning the ball, despite the tough personal contest he was now having against O’Doherty – and it didn’t help that Eamon O’Sullivan was beginning to drop back and double-team at every opportunity – each time denying Specky the chance to score.
As Rick Cosker ran past Specky, after delivering a message to Skull, Specky yelled out, ‘Hey, Rick! Ask Grub if I can have a run in the middle. Let me go head to head with O’Sullivan. At least then it will be one on one.’
Rick sprinted back to the bench, had a quick word with Grub, and bolted back out to Specky.
‘Grub said go for it, Speck,’ he puffed. ‘Come on, mate. Let’s make something happen.’
Specky jogged to the middle of the ground and swapped positions with Special K. Fergus O’Doherty nervously moved to the midfield with Specky. Specky grinned. He could tell immediately that his opponent was out of his comfort zone and very unsure of himself.
Michael Bayless took a great mark at half-back and Specky seized the opportunity. He sprinted to the wing, while Special K headed towards goal. Eamon O’Sullivan and Fergus O’Doherty exchanged confused looks, unsure which of the two boys to man-up on.
Brian Paylor picked up the commentary:
Magee has finally found some space at centre wing and picks up the ball. He heads to goal. This is the first attacking move for the Australians for some time and it’s no great surprise that it comes from Magee.
Specky took a bounce and then looked up the ground to assess his options. Both O’Sullivan and O’Doherty had made the mistake of going after Specky, which left Special K streaming into the forward line on his own.
Paylor continued, his voice rising in excitement.
Magee is flying, with O’Sullivan doing his best to run him down. Magee’s slowing down … O’Sullivan’s going to get him …
Specky could sense Eamon O’Sullivan breathing down his neck, but he knew exactly what he was doing. He headed towards the corner of the pitch and just as Eamon was about to get a hand on him, he stopped dead in his tracks and turned his shoulders slightly.
Caught completely unaware, Eamon could only put out an arm as he went flying helplessly past.
Oh boy, what a move from Magee. O’Sullivan’s out of the picture, as Magee now looks inboard to a crowded forward line. There’s just no space for the Australian forwards to move …
Specky saw Special K free and moving to the back of the net. He looked through the sea of players positioned in the front of the Australian goal and saw the most narrow of gaps opening up. He dropped the ball on to his boot and smashed it with all of his might, hoping that the practise he had been doing with the round ball would pay off.
It was good! The resulting kick sizzled through the air, barely a metre off the ground. It flew like a missile, dissecting at least a dozen players who were powerless to stop it – such was the power and timing of the kick.
The ball hit Special K right on the chest, nearly knocking him over, but he quickly recovered and hammered it into the back of the net.
Specky sprinted over to Special K and jumped on him.
‘Yes! You bloody bewdy!’ Specky cried, hugging him, as his other team-mates rushed in to celebrate.
‘Look who’s talking! That was a friggin’ awesome pass, mate!’ Special K yelled, grinning wildly. ‘We’ve gone sixteen points up! We’re trailing the Irish by only two points over all.’
‘We can do it,’ said Specky. ‘I think we can win this!’
They had five minutes to go to get the three extra points needed to secure the series. Specky disentangled himself from his team-mates and ran back to the centre just in time for the umpire to throw the ball in the air. Lurch palmed it beautifully to Specky who, just as he was about to grab the ball, was knocked slightly off balance by a bump from Eamon O’Sullivan. Eamon whipped the ball away from him in a brilliant display of skill and timing.
Specky regained his balance just in time to see Eamon streaming towards the goal. He chipped the ball no more than a metre sideways to Ryan Foley, who gathered it cleanly, sidestepped a despairing Spiro, and then handballed it back to Eamon.
The pass was not a good one, however, and it dribbled along the ground in front of Eamon – who continued to chase it at unbelievable speed. It was still looking dangerous for the Aussies.
Specky was racing towards the action at goal, but in the meantime Dicky had to make a splitsecond decision. He charged off his line, a fearsome sight with his right eye now completely closed and a massive bandage wrapped around his badly injured thigh.
The crowd was once again on their feet, shouting and screaming as loud as they could.
And no one was louder than Tommy Finnigan in the commentary box:
THIS IS IT! The Irish wonder boy sizes up the situation and steadies himself. He’s going to kick it off the ground and … LOOK OUT! Atkins throws himself onto the flying boot of O’Sullivan … OHHHHHH! What’s happened? I can’t see the ball …
The crowd inhaled as one as a tangle of players fell over each other in a mad and frantic scramble inside the Irish penalty box.
I CAN’T SEE THE BALL, BRIAN! WHAT’S HAPPENED? IS IT A GOAL? IS IT A GOAL TO IRELAND?’
Specky stood at the edge of the chaos, with players jumping around everywhere. A large pack had formed right on the Irish goal line. He couldn’t tell whether or not the ball had crossed the line.
And then, like in a scene from a movie, Dicky emerged from under the scrimmage, blood streaming from his nose, one eye swollen shut, barely able to walk. And, protecting it as if his life depended on it, he had the ball squeezed tightly to his chest.
Atkins has saved it! Atkins has saved it! He can’t see! He can’t run! His nose is splattered all over his face, but he has stopped the goal!
Specky was the first to move. Time was running out, and in the confusion all the players had moved far from their positions. ‘Dicky!’ he yelled.
Dicky, barely able to lift his foot, raised one more mighty effort and booted the ball along the ground in the general direction of Specky’s voice.
Sean Kavanagh had noticed Specky’s lead towards the ball and was closing in on him at a ferocious pace. Rather than bend down and pick up the ball, Specky dribbled it out in front of him and took off after it. He quickly put a couple of metres between himself and Kavanagh, but continued, soccer-style, to play the ball along the ground as he streamed forward.
Magee’s out on his own, and he’s flying down the wing. Now he bends and picks
it up and runs to half forward. O’Doherty comes at him and … Magee lobs the ball over his head, steps around him and gathers the ball. What a play! Time’s running out. Magee takes another bounce. He’s starting to tire. He has to take a shot …’
Specky’s lungs were burning and his legs could not carry him any further. He was still forty metres from goal, but he had to take his chances. He slowed slightly, settled, and dropped the ball on to his boot.
Brian Paylor could barely get the words out.
Magee’s taking the shot! He’s taking responsibility for the entire result. He kicks it … It looks good off the boot … NO, NO! It’s not going to make the distance.
Specky watched in horror as the ball dipped violently and plummeted towards the ground.
HANG ON, IT’S A MARK! I’m not sure who it is. I can’t quite make it out at the moment, but … it looks like Morgan. It is! Lenny Morgan has taken a mark twelve metres out from goal, directly in front. And there are only forty or so seconds left on the clock.
Specky couldn’t believe it. Skull had come from nowhere and marked the ball on his chest. The noise in the stadium was unlike anything he had ever heard. He knew, however, that this kick was no certainty. If it had been with an Australian Rules football, then it would have been all over – Skull would never miss. But with this round ball it was a completely different proposition. They’d struggled to convert with even the simplest of chances. Specky jogged over to Skull.
‘Mate,’ said Specky, stepping up alongside him. ‘Just do your best. We’re with you all the way. And if you can slot this through, I might even do an Irish victory dance for ya.’
Skull kept his head down for another few seconds and Specky hoped that the pressure wasn’t too much for him.
‘Speck,’ Skull said, looking up with a cheeky grin. ‘I wouldn’t want to miss that! Besides the Skullanator was born for these moments.’
And then, without hesitation, and with the crowd chanting so loudly that Specky thought all of Ireland might hear them, Lenny ‘Skull’ Morgan smashed the ball right through the middle of the uprights, giving victory to Australia, and awarding them a series win by one point.
Specky fell to his knees and shot his fists to the sky.
‘Yes! Yes!’ he cried, overcome by exhilaration and relief.
Specky looked up to see the wild scenes of jubilation in the Australian camp – Grub and Bobby were going nuts on the sidelines, and his teammates were jumping on each other, hugging and shouting excitedly, ‘AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE’ – and among it all, a gutted-looking Brother O’Donnell hurriedly disappeared in to the crowd.
Specky beamed, his eyes now uncontrollably tearing up with joy.
If this is what it feels like to win for your country, then I never want it to end! he thought. Never!
22. cya!
There were lively scenes at Dublin airport as Specky prepared to fly home. He was still on a high from the win, but it was sad to be saying his farewells. The entire O’Leary family had taken the day off work and school to say goodbye.
‘Give me a big hug!’ gushed Mrs O’Leary, embracing Specky tightly. The twins were run-ning around the terminal and giggling, but they raced in to hug him too.
‘Ma! Let him go,’ said Michael, rolling his eyes. ‘Don’t suffocate him!’
‘So, I’ll see you in Australia,’ said Patrick, when their mum had finally stopped hugging Specky. ‘My dad’s still not keen on the idea, but seeing you play the other day has made him pretty keen on AFL. He’s been watching Collingwood games on the internet ever since.’
Specky grinned. ‘I’m sure you can talk him around,’ he said. ‘My dad didn’t like any form of footy, at first. They get used to it!’
‘Hey, Simon, can I have your Australian guernsey?’ asked Joseph, arriving from the carpark with Caitlin and Mr O’Leary.
‘Joseph!’ snapped Mrs O’Leary. ‘Just ignore him, Simon.’
‘Sorry, Joseph, but I promised it to my grandfather,’ Specky said. ‘I can give you these, though. They might be a bit big for you.’
Specky reached into his bag, and pulled out his official Australian team shorts and handed them over to Joseph.
‘Awww … cool!’
‘Well, what do you say?’ said Mr O’Leary.
‘Thanks, Simon! Thanks a lot!’
‘Come here, hot stuff. Give us a hug!’ Caitlin said, grinning. ‘If your friend’s not afraid of a bit of public love, then I’m not either.’ Caitlin pointed over at Dicky and Frankie Nolan.
Specky laughed. Dicky and Frankie were laughing and jabbing friendly punches into each other’s arms as if they were now the best of mates.
‘This is from me,’ said Michael, stepping forward and handing Specky a plastic bag.
Specky pulled out a sky-and-navy-blue guernsey. It was the Dublin hurling team’s official strip.
Specky was really touched. ‘Thanks, mate! I was pretty lucky I got to stay with you guys – it’s been unreal.’
‘And good luck deciding whether to go with Manchester,’ said Michael quietly. ‘I’d go for it. I’ve been thinking, though,’ he added, smiling, ‘you were a pretty awesome goalie, but you couldn’t resist going out there and kicking some goals. How would Man U ever keep you in the goal square?’
‘Yeah … I’ve been wondering that myself,’ Specky said.
‘It was an absolute pleasure getting to know you, Simon,’ said Mr O’Leary, moving in to shake Specky’s hand. ‘I will never forget the way you took to our game – and, of course, your little jig.’
‘Me neither,’ shouted Skull, who was standing nearby. ‘Hey! Don’t you owe me a victory dance?’
Skull broke into another mock jig. The team cracked up. Again. But Specky just grinned and to everyone’s surprise sided up to Skull and joined in.
‘I think you might just be picking it up,’ joked Specky, hopping on the spot.
‘You know, it does feel good,’ laughed Skull.
Everyone cheered as Specky and Skull exchanged high-fives. There were no longer any hard feelings between the two.
‘I just got word,’ called Grub, raising his voice over the team’s laughter. ‘And you may all want to listen to this. The head of the Gaelic Athletic Association has informed us that Brother O’Donnell and Coach McGinnity won’t be involved in any official football games in the near future. It’s game over for them, just like I told you –’
‘Um, Grub,’ said Bobby interrupting. ‘Look who’s here.’
Everyone turned to see Ms Malone walking quickly towards them.
‘Maureen?’ stammered Grub. ‘What … what are you doing here?’
‘I’m coming with you,’ she announced, a bit out of breath. ‘If you want me to.’
‘What? What do you mean?’ Grub asked.
‘It’s been wonderful seeing you again and I just can’t let you go without giving it one last try. What did we know in our youth? Nothing! So how about we give it another shot?’
‘Um, but, but …’ Grub stuttered, obviously conscious that everyone was watching him. ‘Oh, who am I bloody kidding? Of course I want to! Come here, you!’
Grub pulled Ms Malone in towards him and kissed her as if he were in a black-and-white Hollywood movie.
As the team teased Grub, and all the adults congratulated the two of them, Specky suddenly remembered that he had another decision to make when he got home … and it wasn’t going to be easy.
23. home
‘Squirt! You awake?’
Specky rolled over. He was still exhausted. When he opened his eyes he could see the sun shining through the window, but it felt like the middle of the night.
‘Simon! Thanks for the perfume.’
‘Huh?’ Specky groaned. Alice was standing by his bed. ‘What?’
It took Specky a minute or so to realise that he was actually back home, back in his bedroom, back in Melbourne.
‘Dad said you got in after midnight last night,’ Alice said, now sitting on the edge
of Specky’s bed.
‘Yeah,’ yawned Specky. It must be Sunday morning in Melbourne, he thought.
‘So how was it? Awesome, right? We saw you on the Gaelic football website – we downloaded the highlights.’
Specky sat up still not quite believing he was back home. His time overseas had just flown by.
‘Oh, Alice! I told you not to wake your brother,’ said Mrs Magee, popping her head in to Specky’s room and balancing baby Jack on her hip.
‘I’m sure the chosen one will survive,’ Alice said.
‘It’s okay, Mum,’ said Specky, lifting Jack out of her arms and cuddling him. ‘Danny and Gobba stayed at Robbo’s place last night so I can come round and catch ’em all.’
‘I know you can’t wait to see your friends,’ said Mrs Magee. ‘But at least eat something. I can whip up your favourite brekky – and you can tell me all about your trip. Your father had to go in to the gallery, but Granddad’s waiting downstairs for you.’
‘Ah, the golden child has returned. All hail the golden child,’ Alice said dramatically. ‘I thought it was all too good to last.’
‘Oh, Alice, you do go on,’ said Mrs Magee, shaking her head.
‘Seriously,’ Alice said to Specky. ‘Mum missed you so much, she was starting to be really nice to me. And, well, to tell you the truth, it freaked me out! So I’m glad you’re home.’
Specky grinned – it was great to be surrounded by his real family again.
‘Is that my champion grandson?’ Grandpa Ken’s gruff voice echoed from the kitchen as Specky walked down the stairs. ‘There he is!’ he beamed, as Specky walked through the doorway.
Specky hugged his grandfather. I’ve got something for you,’ he said, pulling his Australian guernsey from behind his back. It had been signed by all his team-mates. ‘Told ya – it’s yours,’ said Specky handing it to his grandfather.
‘You’re a legend, kid, you truly are,’ said Grandpa Ken, tearing up and hugging Specky again. ‘So tell me … tell me all about this Irish adventure of yours.’
