Rugby Warrior

by Gerard Siggins

  ‘Ireland? Wow, that’s a long way from Ponsonby. I was born in Donegal, you know, a little place called Ramelton. Don’t remember it at all, I’m afraid. I remember the long journey to New Zealand, but nothing of my time in old Ireland. My mother left my baby brother behind, you know. He was ailing and she knew he wouldn’t survive the voyage. He died about a year later I think. My poor mother was brokenhearted when she got that letter.’

  Eoin stared as the spectre sat down on another boulder on the far side of the stream.

  ‘How did you end up here?’ Eoin asked.

  ‘Who knows,’ said Dave. ‘I’ve had a very contented existence since a German shell blew me into eternity back in ’17. I wandered the former battlefields of Europe for a while, meeting too many old buddies, and I’ve popped up here and there at rugby grounds when I got a hankering after the great game. But this is the first time I’ve been back in Ireland. It doesn’t seem to have changed that much …’

  ‘Well, you haven’t really seen an awful lot of it here hiding in the woods in the corner of the school grounds. You won’t recognise much, I’d say,’ said Eoin.

  ‘Do they still play rugby here?’ the former All Black asked. ‘I came over here with the New Zealanders in 1905, 1906, but I had an injured leg and missed the test match. One of my ambitions was to play in my native land, but I was crook so it never happened. I spent most of my time here in bed in the hotel; very disappointed, I was.

  ‘They played in a place called Lansdowne Road if I remember. Is that still there?’

  ‘Well, we certainly do play rugby,’ explained Eoin. ‘The old ground was knocked down a few years ago and they rebuilt it as a brand new stadium. You wouldn’t recognise much of it except the grassy bit. But there’s a photo of your team on the wall there.’

  ‘Really? Well, isn’t that grand. I thought they’d have long forgotten the likes of old Dave Gallaher and Billy Stead. So what’s this about a pro-ject?’

  Eoin explained what he was planning to write about for the Young Historian Competition, and as he talked an idea came into his head.

  ‘I have this book which covers the rugby, and there’s a load of stuff about you on the internet – eh, I’ll explain what that is later – but I can’t find much about your time fighting in the war, and that’s what the teacher wants it to be about. Would you be able to help me with that?’

  ‘Sounds fair,’ said Dave. ‘I think I’ll hang around here for a while. I like the look of Dublin and I see you play a bit of rugby here too. Maybe I could get some work as a trainer?’ He winked at Eoin.

  CHAPTER 18

  Eoin’s head was starting to hurt as he walked back to the dorm. His attempts to escape the bickering had only given him something even more complicated to think about. It was really nice that Dave had agreed to help him with his project – but why on earth had he suddenly become a magnet for dead rugby players?

  ‘Are you OK, Eoin?’ asked Alan. ‘You look as though you’ve seen a gho— Oh, sorry, that’s the wrong thing to say to YOU!’ he joked.

  ‘Well, actually, I have,’ whispered Eoin. ‘And a new one, too.’

  ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ replied Alan, careful to make sure that Rory didn’t hear. He still had his earphones in and looked as if he had fallen asleep.

  ‘No,’ said Eoin. ‘But I don’t want to talk about it. This is all getting too weird.’

  He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. He would have to talk to Mr McRae tomorrow to see who he was thinking of going with at scrum-half. He had been shocked by Dylan’s attack on Rory and how it had showed a new side to his fellow Ormondstown boy. That sort of temper could be dangerous.

  After history class the next day, Mr Lawson called him back for a word.

  ‘I hear you’ve been doing some serious research on Dave Gallaher,’ he said. ‘Mr McDonagh was telling me you tracked down his book on rugby.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Eoin,. ‘It’s very interesting, although it is only really about rugby. I’m struggling to find information on what he did in the war and all that.

  ‘OK, well I can help you a bit with that,’ said Mr Lawson. ‘I know a few good New Zealand websites that will steer you in the right direction.’

  A knock came to the door, and Mr McRae popped his head in.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Lawson, and Mr Madden, too. How’s your All Black research going?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s going OK, sir,’ Eoin replied. ‘He was a very interesting man – and I found out why he wasn’t in that photo in the Aviva too.’

  ‘Really? That’s good work. And why was that?’

  ‘He was crook, and never got to play in either of the games in his native land.’

  ‘Crook,’ grinned Mr McRae. ‘That’s a very Kiwi word, where did you pick that up?’

  ‘Dave told me himself,’ blurted Eoin, before he realised what he had said. ‘I mean, I mean … I read it in his book.’

  The New Zealanders looked at each other, puzzled, then back at Eoin.

  ‘Eh, OK, Madden, keep up the work and let me know when you need a steer,’ said Mr Lawson. ‘Did you want a word, Mr McRae?’

  ‘No, Greg, it’s actually young Madden I need to talk to,’ replied the coach. ‘Team business …’ he said, with a wink at the pupil.

  As Mr Lawson left for the staffroom for his break, Mr McRae took Eoin out to the rugby field.

  ‘I’m pretty settled on the team for the first game next week,’ he started, ‘but I’m still torn on the scrum-half. Rory fits in well, and is definitely the better team player, but Dylan has a lot more flair and has a great pair of hands. I think he could really give us an extra dimension, especially because I want you to play at first five-eighth.’

  ‘What’s that, sir?’ asked Eoin.

  ‘First five-eighth? Oh, I keep forgetting you guys are still in the rugby Stone Age! You know – you call it ‘out half’. I want you to wear the No. 10 shirt and I’m going to put Richie Duffy back to No. 12,’ explained the coach. ‘I’ve watched the cup final video three times now, and the team got a huge lift when you switched in there when Duffy was injured. What do you think?’

  Eoin looked at his feet for a couple of seconds, before raising his gaze to meet that of the coach.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ he said, ‘but Duffy won’t be happy and he’ll make my life hell. To be honest I haven’t had much experience at No. 10. But I’ll be fine.

  ‘I really don’t know what you should do about No. 9,’ he went on. ‘Dylan is pushing really hard for it and it’s already getting a bit messy – and the two of them are in the same dorm as me.’

  ‘Oooof, that can’t be good,’ said Mr McRae. ‘Try and keep a lid on it, but I’ll have to make a call before training tomorrow.’

  CHAPTER 19

  Eoin desperately wanted to avoid Dylan and Rory, but it was always going to prove impossible when sharing a classroom and a bedroom with both. It was Dylan who approached him first, just as school was ending for the day.

  ‘Look, Eoin,’ he started, ‘I know Rory’s a friend of yours, but you know I’m a far better scrum-half than he’ll ever be. Can you put a word in with McRae for me?’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Dylan,’ said Eoin. ‘First of all, I’m not putting a word in with Mr McRae for anyone. I’ll make suggestions on what I see and I’m still not convinced about which of you should be in. Rory’s a solid scrum-half and he knows the way we play. You’re a good player, I agree, but flying off the handle like you did last night doesn’t exactly prove you’re the man for the job. What were you thinking?’

  ‘Aw, that?’ grinned Dylan. ‘I was just messing with him. And anyway he started it – calling me a “Limerick skanger” is way out of line – I’m not even from Limerick anyway!’

  ‘I agree he was out of order,’ said Eoin, ‘but flipping out like that was a bit scary. You do that on the pitch and you could lose us the game – and you’d never be picked for the As again.’

  ‘Oh,’ s
aid Dylan, ‘Is that why you won’t put a word in? Just because I lost it with Rory?’

  ‘NO!’ replied Eoin, exasperated. ‘I’m not putting a word in for EITHER of you. Can’t you get that into your head?’

  ‘Fair enough, boss,’ Dylan answered, ‘but you know it would be a terrible mistake to go with Rory, don’t you?’ he said as he walked off.

  Eoin opened his mouth to reply, but decided against it. He hung his head, completely fed up with the situation in which he had found himself.

  He decided to escape from it all in his favourite quiet corner, although he muttered to himself on the way that he hoped the Gallaher ghost wasn’t there to disturb him.

  He got his wish, because there was no sign of the long-dead New Zealander, but his wish for peace was disrupted by his other friend from the spirit world.

  ‘Well, Eoin, what’s happening this year? You’ve been very quiet. I presume all is well?’ said Brian.

  ‘Ah, Brian, if only it was,’ he replied. ‘I’ve had a nightmare few weeks. Well, “nightmare” is probably too strong a word for it compared to what you went through, but I’m fairly fed up with it, all the same.’

  Eoin explained the woes that had gathered around his shoulders since being made captain of the first-fifteen.

  ‘Anyway, enough of all that, something very weird happened yesterday right in this very spot. I was reading that book you used to own when suddenly this ghost appeared and said he was Dave Gallaher – the fella who wrote the book!’

  ‘Really? That’s very odd indeed. I heard a lot about Gallaher around the club at the time. He was a highlyrespected figure. What did he say to you?’

  ‘He told me about his career and how he came to Dublin – and that he was going to stay around Dublin for a while,’ replied Eoin. ‘I think it was opening the book that brought him here to me. It’s obviously got something powerful going on inside. Especially seeing as I have some form in this sort of thing.’

  ‘I suppose it was a very important book to me too,’ said Brian. ‘Charlie gave it to me that last Christmas, but it wasn’t new. It was already twenty years old. He told me that it had belonged to our father, who died when I was very small. We didn’t have very much to remember him by, and I used to think about him every time I opened it.’

  ‘I better be careful with it,’ said Eoin. ‘I have to get that project moving soon. Any suggestions?’

  Brian laughed. ‘Sorry, laddie, there’s no substitute for doing the work on something like that. And anyway, I wasn’t much up for the books myself.’

  ‘The new coach moved me to out-half too,’ explained Eoin. ‘Which means Richie Duffy will be gunning for me.’

  Brian laughed again. ‘Well now, Eoin, you’re doing a lot of complaining. Just get on with it and everything will be fine. If you HADN’T been moved to out-half you’d be whingeing too,’ he added. ‘Time to get down to work on your rugby – and your project. I’ll drop by to see you soon enough.’

  CHAPTER 20

  After homework and a comedy show on TV, Eoin slipped away quietly from the common room and climbed the stairs to the dormitory. He didn’t want to talk to anyone and was eager to catch up on his sleep.

  As he crept through the door he heard someone whispering loudly. There was no one to be seen, but the large lump under the duvet on Dylan’s bed gave him away. He was having a telephone conversation with someone.

  ‘Look, Mam, I’m fine. I’ll keep a good eye out and I’m sure the headmaster will too. You’ve nothing to worry about,’ Dylan whispered. ‘Just make sure you’re OK yourself.’

  Eoin stopped, sensing it wasn’t the sort of conversation he needed to hear. He backed out of the room and down the corridor, before re-entering the room singing loudly.

  ‘Hi guys! Anyone home?’ he called out, walking into the room. Dylan didn’t budge, but he had stopped talking. Eoin didn’t hear another peep out of him, so he too slipped into bed and turned off the lights.

  Next afternoon, the A squad assembled for training. There was a distinct atmosphere of nervousness in the changing room, and Eoin wasn’t too happy to see that Dylan was now sitting in the corner alongside Duffy and his hangers-on.

  In walked Mr McRae, carrying a clipboard and wearing a whistle on a lanyard around his neck.

  ‘Right, mateys, let’s settle down,’ the coach started. ‘I’ve spent good bit of time assessing your skills and commitment, and I’m impressed. I’ve also been looking at the video of the final last year, and it’s on that basis that I’ve made my selection for the first game of the season on Saturday. Personnel wise, I’m not making any changes, but I am going to make a switch in the backs, with Madden and Duffy changing places at 12 and 10.’

  Eoin decided it was best not to look around this time, so he continued to stare at the coach’s whistle.

  ‘As you know, I’ve also asked Eoin to skipper the team, but I want you all to take responsibility for your play, and to help out your team-mates at all times. This is a team game and the best teams are those that battle alongside each other out on the paddock. Any questions?’

  Nobody moved, but a few stole sidewards glances at Richie Duffy. Eventually the ousted out-half piped up.

  ‘Is that for the whole season or just this first game?’ he asked.

  ‘Well …’ said Mr McRae, ‘I’d prefer to think that you can all focus on the position you’re going to play from now on. I’ll be flexible if I need to be, but it would take something major for me to make changes. I think you’re a good footballer, Duffy, but the team definitely upped their game when Madden slotted in at first five-eighth in that final. I think he brings something extra at No. 10, and you have the skills to do a good job at No. 12.’

  Duffy grunted in reply, before standing up and starting to head for the door.

  ‘Mr Duffy, I’ll tell you to leave when I am ready. Now sit back there and listen to what I have to say. I want to go through what I want to do at training today.’

  Duffy stopped, and with another grunt he sat back down until the coach was finished and the whole squad were sent outside to the rugby field.

  Rory came up behind him and slapped Eoin’s back. ‘Thanks, skipper,’ he said, ‘Good decision’.

  Dylan, who was just in front trotting alongside Richie, turned and glowered at Rory, before Eoin put up his hand.

  ‘Stop it, you two, NOW!’ he shouted. ‘I consider both of you my friends – for the moment anyway – and I’ve had nothing to do with the selection of that team. But for the record, I don’t have a problem with Mr McRae’s call, and I suggest the two of you get on with it and work to prove him right – or wrong.’

  He turned and jogged away to his position and waited for training to begin. ‘What a pair of babies they are,’ he muttered. ‘And I’m the unpaid babysitter.’

  CHAPTER 21

  Eoin realised that telling the rival scrum-halves where to get off was the right thing to have done, so he didn’t bother tiptoeing around them after that. There was too much to do, what with being team captain and having daily chats with Mr McRae about tactics, as well as training, study and homework. And then there was the project!

  Eoin had let the project slide for a while now, although he had finally managed to work his way through The Complete Rugby Footballer. He had found out some details about Dave Gallaher’s sporting career, and about his life in New Zealand, but he needed more information about what it was like to fight on the Western Front.

  He picked up the ancient book from his locker, collected a notebook and pen, and wandered out of the school toward his secret haunt. On the way, he bumped into Mr Finn, who was his usual enthusiastic self and was even more so when he saw what Eoin was carrying.

  ‘It’s for a history project,’ Eoin explained.

  ‘Excellent – is that for the Young Historian competition?’ asked the teacher.

  ‘Yes, I’m doing it on Dave Gallaher – I got interested in him when you pointed him out at the Aviva that evening,’ he added.
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  ‘Wonderful!’ said Mr Finn, ‘I’m so glad to hear that. You should ask Dixie about him too. I’m sure we discussed him many years ago.’

  ‘I will, thanks,’ said Eoin, itching to escape to his hideaway. ‘As it’s a nice evening I’m just going over to find a quiet corner to read the book.’

  Mr Finn bade him goodbye and Eoin broke into a trot towards the tiny stream in the woods.

  He sat on the rock and opened the book. Almost immediately Dave appeared.

  ‘Hello there, young laddie, and how have you been?’ he asked.

  Eoin explained that he wanted to hear about his experiences in the First World War and what it was like in the trenches of Flanders.

  ‘It wasn’t pretty, I’ll tell you that,’ Dave Gallaher started, ‘I had been a soldier a long time before in South Africa, when we fought the Boers. I was well into my forties when the Great War started. Two of my little brothers, Charlie and Douglas, went off to fight, and to be honest I wanted to go too. Lots of rugby mates signed up, and when the newspapers started reporting their deaths I felt a terrible tug. But I was married to Nellie, and had a lovely little girl called Nora, so …’ he paused, staring at his feet.

  ‘But both my brothers were badly injured in Gallipoli so I decided to sign up so that the Gallahers could continue to play their part. Douglas went back to the Western Front and I applied to rejoin the army. I was waiting for the call-up when my mother got that awful telegram saying Douglas had been killed at The Somme.

  ‘They made me a Sergeant-Major and we sailed for Europe on a big steam ship – it took us three months to get here, would you believe? – and eventually we were sent to the front line in Belgium. I think it was spelled “Ypres”, but everyone called it “Wipers”.

  ‘We were fighting over a town called Passchendaele, but to be honest there wasn’t much to fight for. Every single building had been levelled and the whole area was just one big bomb site of churned-up mud and slime. I think I heard that more than half a million men died in that small area and, of course, I was one of them …’