Rugby Runner

by Siggins, Gerard;

  He grinned across at Charlie Johnston as the teams lined up for the anthems but he was a bit taken aback when his old friend turned his head and looked down at the ground.

  Eoin put the slight out of his mind and began his pre-match concentration ritual, slowly tidying everything away in his brain except the game plan. He took one look over at the tournament trophy before setting that – and the hunt for ‘Bill’ – aside, too.

  Australia were a tough side and, if truth were told, a little dirty. Neil had pointed this out to Eoin the day before and they decided that they could punish this and score a lot of points by taking penalties when they were in range. Eoin had practised kicking for ninety minutes after training and was happy he could slot the ball over from almost angle.

  The Wallababies started with a bang, conceding a penalty in the first minute – duly kicked by Eoin – and then tackling Sam off the ball, which cost them the services of their open-side flanker for ten minutes.

  Eoin noticed that Sam’s passes seemed to come to him even slower than usual after that, and he kicked himself for not talking to him that morning. After one pass that was delayed needlessly – and saw them both floored – he decided not to waste a moment.

  ‘Listen, Sam, I don’t know if you even know you’re doing it, but every time you get the ball out of the scrum you stop and look back to see where I am. If you did that before you take it out you’d have some extra time. That could be crucial.’

  Sam looked a little bit put out, but he nodded and said he’d try it next time.

  The quality of the ball coming back to Eoin improved after that, but he noticed that the Aussie forwards were still quicker on to him than he had ever experienced before and seemed to know when he was going to pass, kick or run.

  Eoin grew more and more frustrated, as Ireland attacks were snuffed out as soon as they had begun. Luckily the Aussies were not able to mount much of their own, and their regular fouling meant Ireland were 6-0 up at half-time.

  ‘They keep closing me down, coach,’ seethed Eoin as Neil gathered the team around in a huddle. ‘It’s like they know what I’m going to do.’

  ‘Maybe they do,’ said Paddy. ‘Sure isn’t their Number Eight your old mate from Castlerock and Leinster. He knows all your moves and when you’re going to make them.’

  Eoin realised with horror that Paddy was right. That’s what Charlie had been talking to his coach about in the grandstand, and that’s why he had been so embarrassed in the pre-match. He was letting the Aussies know all he had learned about Ireland’s key player over the years they had played together.

  ‘That’s a bummer,’ said Neil. ‘But look, don’t panic. You’ve a good footballing brain. Change your moves and the way you set yourself up to pass or kick – it will confuse them. Maybe try something a bit funky now and again like a crossfield kick or a missed pass.’

  Eoin smiled, reassured by Neil’s ideas and determined to put it right.

  He grinned at Charlie Johnston again as they lined up for the second half, and tapped the side of his nose as if to say ‘I know what you’re up to’. Charlie grinned back and shrugged his shoulders.

  Chapter 37

  The Australians came back hard at Ireland and scored a try very early in the second half. Eoin tapped over yet another penalty to keep Ireland 9-7 ahead as the game approached the hour mark.

  Neil made several changes, including bringing on Rory for Sam, but told Eoin he wanted him there till the end. Having only played one game he wasn’t as tired as the other guys, and the coach believed his ability to kick the ball from any angle was going to be crucial.

  Eoin extended the Ireland lead to 12-7 with a few minutes left, but a blunder by Rory let the Aussies away and their winger scored a diving try in the corner. They watched nervously as the Australian out-half lined up the conversion and were mightily relieved when he put it five metres wide.

  ‘Phew,’ said Rory. ‘Sorry I messed up there. We still have a chance in extra-time.’

  But as the final whistle blew the referee gathered all the players around him.

  ‘Right young men that was a most entertaining game. You may not know this, but this tournament is being played under some experimental regulations that may be used in the Rugby World Cup next year. And one of those is to abolish extra time and go straight to a goal-kicking competition.’

  Eoin gulped. Paddy’s face fell. Rory opened his mouth wide – ‘But… do we have five goal-kickers?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s nothing to worry about,’ grinned the referee. ‘This new-style contest is actually for just one player on each side.’

  Now it was Eoin’s turn to open his mouth. ‘Oh no, you’re joking?’

  But the ref insisted that he wasn’t and explained the rules of the shoot-out. The ball would be placed on five different points spaced out evenly along the 22 metre line, ranging from one touchline to the other.

  ‘That’s just like your training sessions down in Ormondstown Gaels,’ said Dylan, who had joined the group on the field along with Neil and the rest of the staff.

  A cameraman came onto the field and pointed his camera at Eoin, who realised that he now had millions of people around the world staring at him and waiting for him – and his Australian counterpart – to decide the game.

  When the referee had settled everyone down and the touch-judges were standing at the posts, the contest began.

  Eoin had won the toss and decided to go first, reckoning a successful kick would heap even more pressure on the man following.

  Far out on the left, he smacked the hall hard and high and it fell in an arc just inside the near post. The Aussie looked rattled, but managed to follow him successfully. Their next three kicks were successful too, and the tension in the crowd was at its highest as Eoin stepped forward to take the final kick.

  As a right footer, he always found those kicks the hardest as he liked to curl the ball in slightly. But that was much trickier to do from that angle with the much smaller target than in a straight-head kick.

  He took his steps back and sideways, steadying himself and checking again that there was no wind. He looked at the posts and began his run.

  ‘Whummmp,’ he hit the ball perfectly square, and waited for it to do its part of the job. It sailed towards the righthand post before it took a tiny curl inside – the result was signalled by a huge roar from the packed stadium and the cheers from his team-mates behind him.

  Eoin walked back to join them, on the way passing his Australian opposite number whose face looked grey. Eoin took a deep breath and waited for the kick. He scanned the crowd, and was delighted to spot Dixie had turned up with Eoin’s parents. There too, standing on the grassy bank, were William Webb Ellis and Brian Hanrahan.

  The Australian was extremely nervous, probably remembering that he had taken a conversion from that very spot just twenty minutes before and had fluffed it. He did his best, but the weight on his mind added weight to his legs and he just couldn’t get distance on the ball, which trickled under the posts.

  The crowd erupted, and Eoin was again swamped by his team-mates in green. A TV reporter came dashing out to ask him questions, and Eoin gave him some embarrassingly stupid answers about ‘game plans’ and ‘leaving nothing out on the park’.

  When things had calmed down – and Eoin had sought out Charlie to say ‘hard luck,’ and swop banter about being a traitor – the teams had left the field so that New Zealand could play South Africa in the second semi-final, Eoin joined his family in the grandstand.

  He filled them in on all the excitement he had been through since he last saw them in the hospital and how he had come up with his theory about the ambulance and the trophy.

  Dixie’s face suddenly turned pink.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I should have spoken up earlier. When your parents were in visiting you in hospital I stayed outside in the car – there in the multi-storey carpark. I was just watching the world go by when the big white ambulance you came in drove
past me at great speed. I thought that was a little odd – I thought the ambulances would park somewhere else – but then it pulled in beside the exit doorway and the driver got out. He collected a bag from out of the back and disappeared down the stairs.

  ‘I thought it was a little weird, but…’

  Eoin never heard the rest of the sentence as he was already half way down the steps in search of Fitzy and Keith.

  Chapter 38

  Eoin found the World Rugby man standing at the trophy stand chatting to another official, and explained to him what his grandad had seen.

  Fitzy asked him to come with him to the prefab out the back where he had been days before. The Gardaí arrived and Eoin went over the story again before they asked him to bring them to Dixie.

  His grandfather was a bit shocked when the detective tapped him on the shoulder to ask could they have a word with him, but Eoin reassured him and the old man seemed to enjoy being sucked into the drama.

  ‘This is like Sherlock Holmes,’ he whispered to Eoin at one stage. ‘I’ll have to bring along my pipe next time to help them solve it.’

  Once he had told the police the full story, and they had checked it over, the senior Garda told the Maddens that they could go. Eoin led Dixie back to the grandstand.

  ‘Well that was quite a turn up,’ laughed his mum.

  ‘I wonder who they’ll get to play me in the movie – The Webb Ellis Trophy Mystery they’ll probably call it,’ chuckled Dixie.

  ‘Well, it won’t be George Clooney,’ teased his mum. ‘Maybe his father?’

  Eoin said goodbye to his family, who had a long drive ahead of them and would be returning to Dublin in a few days for the final. The out-half hero rejoined his team-mates, who were watching the closing stages of the second semi-final.

  He had discussed who he would prefer to win with Alan a couple of nights before, and they settled on South Africa. But having won the semi-final, Eoin realised that narrow defeat to the All Blacks still really rankled and he desperately wanted to make amends.

  ‘Come on the Kiwis,’ he called, as the team in black battled to defend their four-point lead.

  His team-mates stared at him. ‘Are you mad in the head?’ asked Ollie.

  ‘No,’ Eoin replied. ‘It’s just that even if we win the final against South Africa, that defeat to New Zealand will hang over us and they’ll always say we weren’t the best team in the competition. I want to play the Kiwis – and beat them.’

  The rest of the boys stopped, and nodded. As one, they took up the chant ‘All Blacks, All Blacks’ drawing surprised stares from supporters nearby who had earlier heard them rooting for the Springboks.

  And five minutes later they let out a huge cheer as the final whistle blew and they knew that New Zealand would be their opponents in the tournament decider.

  ‘Right lads, tonight is your night to blow off a bit of steam. We’ll take you out later for a bit of bowling and a burger, so back you head to get cleaned up and changed and we’ll see you down at the hall in ninety minutes.’

  Eoin rambled back with Paddy and Sam, all the way buzzing at their great achievement.

  ‘Did anyone see me on the telly?’ asked Eoin. ‘I hadn’t a clue what to say. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself.’

  ‘I’m sure you were fine,’ laughed Sam. ‘But I bet you’ll have a load more of that to do before the final – there were dozens of journalists there today.’

  Eoin groaned. ‘Oh no, I hate talking about myself and I don’t know enough about rugby – I’ll come across as a total spoofer.’

  ‘Just tell them that the campaign to win the World Cup was all Neil’s idea and he worked so hard to come up with the plan,’ said Paddy. ‘That’ll get you plenty of brownie points and show you’re modest and don’t want any glory for yourself.’

  Eoin laughed, but agreed with Paddy too. Rugby was a team game and anyone who thought they were the only reason why the team won would soon be found out. Eoin was good at kicking a ball, and working out when to pass or run, and a few other skills, but he would be totally useless in the front row of the scrum, or trying to win a line-out. It was important to point out all the other great players he was lucky enough to share a shirt with.

  Chapter 39

  It was just after midnight when William came to visit. Eoin had been asleep, but was awoken by a cold breath across his cheek.

  ‘I’m sorry, young sir,’ whispered the ghost, urgently. ‘But you must come, and at great haste. I have found the scoundrels who stole the trophy.’

  ‘What… where…’ Eoin shook his head to try to dismiss his sleepiness. He stared at William and saw the panic in his eyes. He dressed quickly, checked he had his mobile phone, and threw on a hoodie.

  ‘Follow me,’ whispered William as they sneaked past the room-mates who were all snoring away, oblivious to the mysterious visitor.

  The ghost led him out of the building and down past the sports ground and out to the six-lane highway which ran past the university.

  As they walked along the footpath lit by street-lights Eoin shivered, although he wasn’t cold. William explained that he had been wandering aimlessly for days around the district, when one night he had felt a strong force summoning him down to this place where he was sure the trophy now lay.

  ‘It’s down here, not too far,’ he said, ‘perhaps half-a-league.’

  Eoin was confused. ‘A league?’

  ‘Ah, of course, I keep forgetting you are more than two hundred years younger than me. A league was what we once called three miles – so you can work out what half-a-league is?’

  Eoin laughed. ‘That’s not too bad. I’m sure you’ve found our world a lot harder to work out.’

  ‘I have surely,’ said William. ‘Between television and CCTV and those miniature trains that people drive along the roads…’

  ‘Miniature trains? Oh you mean cars!’ Eoin laughed.

  He felt his pocket to check his phone and he saw the power was down to two per cent. He groaned as it flickered and died. He hoped he wouldn’t need it later.

  They covered the ground quickly and arrived at a dark laneway just outside the sleeping village of Donnybrook. Eoin was a bit nervous looking down it, and the screech of a cat didn’t make it less spooky. But one of the flickering streetlamps suddenly burst brighter and he was at least able to see where he was going.

  ‘They went in there,’ whispered William, pointing at a garage door that was battered and rusty, but from which was hanging a shiny, brand new padlock.

  Eoin tiptoed up to the side and noticed that light was escaping from several cracks and holes in the metal door. He peered through the largest one he could find.

  Inside he spotted three men sitting around a table, in the middle of which was perched the William Webb Ellis Cup. He strained to hear what they were saying.

  ‘But no one will buy it,’ said one man, ‘It was a stupid thing to steal, it’s too recognisable. It’s all over the papers and the telly.’

  ‘Hang on there, it was your idea,’ said another man. ‘You were with me when we saw it out in the college when we were delivering furniture that morning. You even came up with the plan!’

  ‘Yeah, and who nearly killed that ambulance man with too much of those crushed-up tablets?’

  ‘There’s too much going on with the guards – I can’t get anyone to touch it…’ said the first man.

  ‘There’s only one thing for it then,’ said the second man, ‘It must weigh about ten pounds – we can melt it down and sell it as silver scrap. We’d get about two thousand from a lad I know who deals in the stuff under the counter.’

  Eoin’s eyes and mouth opened wide in horror, and he gasped at what he had heard.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ asked the third man, who Eoin recognised as the fake ambulance driver.

  ‘I dunno,’ said another. ‘Did you hear something?’

  ‘I thought I did,’ he replied. ‘It must have been a cat. Let’s finish up here and ge
t ourselves home. I’ll check with my mate to see what he’d offer for it as scrap. We’ll meet here this time tomorrow – can you bring the gear to melt it down, Christy?’

  Eoin didn’t wait around to see the men leave, haring around the nearest corner in case they wanted to investigate further the noise he had stupidly made.

  ‘What do you think of that?’ asked William.

  ‘It’s terrible!’ replied Eoin. ‘And we need to contact the police as soon as possible.’ He looked again at his dead phone and shook his head.

  They decided that William would wait at the criminals’ den in case they came back and moved the trophy, and Eoin would contact the Gardaí first thing next morning.

  Eoin was really rattled as he wandered through the suburbs in the dead of night, wondering how he would explain what he knew to the police. His only companions as he walked were cats and foxes and they could give him no advice as he made his way back to the campus.

  Chapter 40

  Sleep wasn’t easy either, as Eoin kept seeing the three thieves in his head, and hearing them make their dreadful plan.

  He woke early and decided to jog down to the Belfield Bowl to see if there were any officials or Gardaí around. He was surprised to find it locked up, with just one security man in a hut at the gate.

  ‘Ah, there’s no more rugby here,’ he told Eoin. ‘There was so many people looking for tickets for the final tomorrow that they’ve switched it down to the Leinster stadium in the RDS. It’ll be nice and quiet here now.’

  Eoin thanked him, and wandered off, wondering what to do. He had training in less than an hour, and needed to fuel up at breakfast. As he considered how long it would take to run down to the nearest Garda station, another ghostly visitor whispered to him from the bushes.