Rugby Heroes

by Gerard Siggins

Training next day was difficult as it was a wild and windy day, but the team gelled quickly despite not having met up for months. After a hot shower the players were each given a new jumper and trousers by an IRFU bagman, the jumper carrying in gold thread the legend ‘Ireland, Four Nations Under 16’.

  ‘Swanky,’ said Rory.

  ‘This will get a few heads turning when we walk around Ormondstown, eh, Eoin?’ laughed Roger Savage.

  The players had a series of meetings with the Irish management and the tournament organisers before all the teams came together for a social event. Eoin and Paddy, with Sam Rainey, ducked into one of the corners of the hall and watched the rest of the players.

  ‘There’s poor Charlie, he has to be nice to everyone and meet all those old guys,’ laughed Paddy.

  Eoin and Paddy had captained their provinces in the interpro competition, but were delighted that Charlie had been given the much more difficult job of leading Ireland. It seemed to be one long round of shaking hands with men in blazers, and talking to TV reporters.

  ‘The Welsh guys look like good crack,’ said Sam. ‘Will we go over and do a bit of mixing?’

  ‘I suppose we’d better,’ shrugged Eoin, who was sometimes a bit nervous about meeting new people.

  Paddy introduced himself to a group of players from each of the visiting teams, and welcomed them to Dublin.

  ‘Not that I can welcome you to Dublin really,’ he laughed. ‘I’m from Enniskillen myself, it’s up the country.’

  The other boys smiled, and began comparing notes on their places of origins and where they played rugby. They were all agreed that the sandwiches were excellent, but that there weren’t enough of them.

  One of the Scotland squad, Alistair Dods, had been on the team knocked out of the World Cup by a last-minute South African try. He admitted that he still woke up at night thinking about it.

  ‘That was a terrible try to give away, and us with one foot in the semi-finals.’ He shook his head. ‘You guys took advantage of our bad luck though, and I was delighted that you ended up winning the whole thing.’

  ‘Cheers!’ said Eoin, ‘that’s very good of you to say that.’

  ‘Maybe,’ grinned Alistair. ‘But we’ll be well up for revenge when we play you on Saturday. We’ll mince you.’

  The other boys laughed, and Alistair smiled, but Eoin could see from his eyes that the defeat still hurt and the game against Scotland would likely be the toughest of the week.

  Eoin rambled around, meeting up with boys he had played with and against in the European Cup and World Cup competitions. With the journalists’ questions all answered and the men in blazers tucking into their drinks, Eoin sought out Charlie.

  The Ireland captain looked a bit exhausted.

  ‘Was training that hard today?’ he asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ grinned Charlie. ‘I was full of beans when I got in here. It’s the shaking hands and smiling all the time that has tired me out!’

  ‘Let’s get out of here so,’ suggested Eoin. ‘Are you up for a stroll down to the stadium? Paddy was keen to see what it looks like at night.’

  ‘That would be great,’ said Charlie, ‘I’ll just check with Neil that my duties are over for the day.’

  As Eoin strolled out to the lobby he bumped into Mr Carey, who had just arrived and seemed a bit flustered.

  ‘Am I too late for the speeches?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes… about an hour late,’ Eoin replied.

  ‘Oh, I’d better get in and apologise to Neil. We were held up because we had to have a meeting after the game to organise the replay. Dodder Woods were trying to rush it next week, but we managed to delay it till after this thing is over.’

  Eoin was puzzled. ‘Replay?’

  ‘Yes, of course it’s a replay,’ snapped Mr Carey. ‘Haven’t you heard the result? We drew 10-10 with Dodder in the semi-final.’

  Chapter 19

  It wasn’t very far down to the Aviva stadium, but to Eoin and Charlie it felt like a simple skip and a jump as they discussed what might have happened to Castlerock.

  ‘That’s a low-scoring game,’ said Charlie. ‘Did you hear from Alan what went on?’

  Eoin realised his phone had been switched off all day. He powered it up and waited for the messages to arrive.

  ‘It sounds like Mr Carey made sure the replay was organised for after the tournament is over, which is good news for us,’ grinned Eoin.

  His phone buzzed seven or eight times.

  ‘Alan,’ he laughed. ‘He was giving me updates after every score.’

  Eoin sifted through the texts before finally getting a picture of what had gone on.

  ‘The weather was brutal, it seems, and it was impossible to kick. The result was actually two tries each, so nobody kicked a conversion, even from under the posts. Richie Duffy had a chance to win it from right in front near the end, but the ball bounced twice before it rolled along the ground and settled beside the upright.’

  ‘That’s shocking,’ said Paddy. ‘I bet they’ll be delighted to get you back.’

  ‘Maybe,’ grinned Eoin. ‘Our pal Dylan scored the two tries so he’ll think he can still do it on his own.’

  They crossed the railway tracks and looked up at the stadium wall towering above with an eerie green glow.

  ‘Wow, it looks huge from here. I’ve only been down once, for an Ulster game,’ Paddy told them.

  ‘Well Eoin certainly knows his way around this place – he’s played here loads of times,’ laughed Charlie.

  ‘And you too,’ said Eoin. ‘Sure, the first time I was playing against you in the Father Geoghegan Cup final.’

  ‘There’s no need to bring that up,’ grinned Charlie, ‘Your jammy kick in garbage time…’

  Eoin laughed and led them down to the gap between the stadium and the club house and souvenir shop.

  ‘If we duck in here there’s a gate we can climb over into the grandstand,’ he whispered. ‘There’s a security guard in the box there so we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t see us.’

  The guard was reading a newspaper but glanced up every few seconds to check the bank of screens that showed CCTV images of all parts of the stadium.

  ‘We’ll have to be very careful. If we’re caught in here the IRFU might get very grumpy,’ said Paddy.

  Charlie paused, turning a little pale. ‘You’re right Paddy. And I’m the captain so they’ll get even grumpier with me.’

  He kicked a stone and thought for a moment. ‘I think we’d better head back,’ he said.

  Eoin shrugged. ‘Sure, what have we got to lose if we ask nicely?’ He walked straight over to the security hut. ‘Good evening sir, we’re playing for Ireland here next week in the Under 16 Four Nations,’ he said, pointing at the embroidered message on his jumper. ‘Would you mind if we just walked down this tunnel to have a look inside the stadium? Paddy here has never seen it with the lights on.’

  The security man looked them up and down and examined the jumpers closely.

  ‘Under 16 you say,’ he grumbled. ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?’ But he waved them down the slope towards the pitch. ‘Don’t touch anything and make sure you’re back here in two minutes.’

  Eoin thanked the man and they hurried away.

  Paddy was open mouthed as the tunnel opened up to show the huge fifty-thousand-seater stadium with its glass walls and giant screens. He asked about the strange array of metal frames on wheels covering the pitch and Eoin explained that the special lights that hung from them were there to help the grass grow faster.

  ‘I’m gonna close my eyes and see if I can imagine any of the great games that have taken place here,’ said Paddy.

  ‘As long as you don’t imagine the Father Geoghegan Cup final,’ laughed Charlie. ‘That keeps coming up in my nightmares.’

  Eoin’s eyes swept across the field, and he took a little jump as he saw, walking across the field in the far corner, a single figure wearing a black, red, and yellow hooped jersey. />
  Chapter 20

  Eoin was so relieved to see Brian that he started to walk towards the playing area before Charlie called him back.

  ‘You can’t go out there… see the sign?’ he pointed out.

  Eoin stopped. ‘Yeah, sorry, you’re right.’ He looked over to where Brian was now bending over, digging at the pitch. He realised Charlie and Paddy knew nothing of Brian and the other ghosts that occasionally came into his life, and letting them in on it now would just make things too complicated.

  The boys wandered back up the slope, Eoin checking on Brian a couple of times before he went out of sight. He wondered what his friend was doing and thought about sneaking out of the hotel later, but immediately decided against it.

  ‘Just think, we’ll be out there in a few days, wearing a green shirt. That will be some day,’ grinned Paddy.

  ‘If selected,’ snickered Charlie. ‘Which reminds me, Neil wants me to sit in on the selection chat tonight…’ he checked his watch. ‘… in two minutes.’

  The captain took off like a frightened rabbit, scampering into the distance as his team-mates broke into laughter behind him.

  Paddy and Eoin strolled back to the hotel, grateful again that Charlie had taken over the leadership duties.

  They debated the selections they expected to see, with the main disagreement coming about scrum-half, where Eoin wanted Rory and Paddy went for Sam Rainey. Eoin didn’t mention what Neil had told Mr Carey – that the Castlerock three were already pencilled in as first choices.

  There were no real surprises when the team was released later that evening, with Rory retaining the scrum-half berth, and Roger Savage coming back to partner his brother in the second row after recovering from concussion. David Bourke, who played in the World Cup final, was injured and Dan Boyd from Enniskillen came in. ‘They probably picked Dan so they won’t have to change the initials on the gear,’ joked Paddy.

  Eoin read the team out to Paddy. ‘Matthew Peak, Kuba Nowak, you, Dan, Ollie McGrath, me, Rory, Ultan Nolan, James Brady, John Young, the Savages, Oisin Deegan, Charlie Bermo and Noah Steenson.’

  ‘That’s a decent team, we’ve a good chance in this,’ Paddy chuckled.

  ‘Maybe, but I think those Scots lads are really up for this game.’

  Eoin was right. The defeat in the World Cup had really rankled with the Scottish boys, and they played like men possessed. It was a cold, windy day with driving rain and no chance of free-flowing rugby. Eoin even had to clap his hands together every couple of minutes to keep them warm.

  Kicking was difficult too, and at half-time the scoreboard showed the evidence: Ireland led 3-0 thanks to the only simple kick of the half from straight in front of the goal, although the ball swung so much in the wind that it hit the inside of the post on its way over the bar.

  ‘This is impossible,’ grumped Rory at half-time. ‘Even getting the ball five metres to Eoin without the wind taking it is tricky.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Neil, ‘And you’ve all done very well so far. Just keep it tight and don’t try anything fancy. We have a more powerful scrum and if we can keep the ball solid up front we’ll get there.

  But as the second half started the rain got heavier and the ground churned up so much that it became harder and harder to run through the mud.

  ‘Let’s just try to drive them up the middle,’ suggested Charlie in a huddle with Eoin and Rory. ‘It’s tougher to go backwards in this muck and hopefully they’ll give us a few penalties within kicking distance.’

  It was grim rugby. Ireland won ruck after ruck, taking no chances and driving forwards inches at a time. Charlie always took the scrum option for penalties until, when a Scottish forward was caught offside with just five minutes left on the clock, the Ireland captain looked at Eoin, who replied with a nod.

  ‘You’d kick this nineteen times out of twenty on a good day,’ Charlie grinned, ‘but that wind is ridiculous. Do you reckon you’ll do it?’

  Eoin winced. It was blowing a gale now, but he had practised for just this situation over the Christmas holidays. A wild storm had blown up one morning and he knew he needed to practise his kicking in such conditions. His mother had to defrost him in front of the fire when he got home.

  Eoin grinned as he remembered that day, and paced out his run-up. He turned and faced the posts, tossing in the air the few blades of grass he could find that hadn’t been drowned in mud. Although he was standing in midfield in front of the goal the wind took the grass and blew it over the heads of the spectators on the touchlines.

  He exhaled and turned to stare at the posts before starting his run. He aimed far to the right of the right-hand post, a full cross-bar’s width away. The ball swerved right before the wind caught hold of it and whipped it back the other way, dropping all the time before it fell, just inside the left-hand post and a metre over the bar.

  The touch-judges looked at each other and raised their flags and a huge roar erupted as the Irish team leapt in the air.

  The Scottish boys looked devastated, but Alistair Dods gathered them around and pointed at the clock. ‘One last push,’ he roared.

  Chapter 21

  The clock showed that there was less than two minutes left to play and Eoin focused on trying to burn off as much time as possible. As the rain bucketed down Ireland controlled the ball from the ruck and were preparing to run down the clock when Oisín made a fatal error.

  The flanker slipped trying to stay attached to the ruck, and as he fell he turned and tried to pass the ball to Rory. The scrum-half was caught in the mud and just couldn’t switch legs to take the ball cleanly.

  A Scottish boot came powering through and kicked the ball down the field. What happened next became a much-watched video on YouTube for weeks after.

  The Scottish backs set off in pursuit of the ball, and had a head-start on the Irish players who found themselves on the backfoot, struggling to get out of the mud. It looked just like a slow bicycle race, with the thirty players all trying to charge towards the ball, but none getting up above a fast walking pace.

  Eoin could hear the laughing start in the crowd, and got annoyed. But he was trying too hard to get moving to worry too much about it.

  The Scottish No. 8 stretched his long legs faster than anyone else and was first to the ball just on the Irish 22 metre line. He picked it up and tried to run again, but had lost momentum in doing so. Ollie McGrath came charging across from the wing and tried to dive to make the tackle, but his feet refused to leave the ground and he just fell flat on his face into a puddle.

  The laughter grew louder but the players were too focused to notice. Alistair was the next Scotsman to the ball and after he gathered he put his head down and tried to get moving but the Irish defence moved across, forcing him to take his ‘run’ wider and wider as they got nearer and nearer.

  Eoin had given up the chase, realising it was hopeless from where he was on the field, but he roared his players on as the centres closed in on the Scottish captain. Squelch, slurp and splash were the only other sounds that could be heard as he neared the line, but on he plodded, now down to taking one desperate step at a time as the quicksand mud sucked him down.

  He reached the line close to the corner flag, and was trying to cut back towards the post when a green blur flew through the air and knocked him flying. It was Kuba, the speedy Connacht wing, and he managed to bring Alistair down just short of the line.

  But as the referee struggled to catch up with the action, he – and everyone else on the ground – had no trouble seeing what happened next. A big hand, poking out of a dark blue sleeve, lifted the ball in the air and plunged it down just beside the flag.

  ‘Prrrrrrreeeep!’ went the whistle, as the referee raised his arm aloft.

  Eoin fell to his knees, as did most of the other boys. Some found it hard to get up again, and the replacements had to help the players extract themselves from the mud.

  ‘That’s 6-5,’ muttered Charlie, ‘Do you think he could kick th
at?’

  Eoin shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t fancy it myself, but who knows.’

  ‘Time’s up anyway,’ said Rory, pointing to the clock.

  The ground was deathly silent as the Scottish boy lined up the kick. He was out wide on the left, two feet in from touch and with the ball teed up in the middle of a sea of mud, like a white cherry on a chocolate cake.

  Inside, Eoin was willing him to miss of course, but he also felt sorry for the kicker. Unable to run, he walked up to the ball and swung his boot back as far as it would go, driving the ball as hard as he could. It was a great effort, but without momentum he had no chance. The ball swung into the air but fell seven or eight metres short without ever getting up as high as the crossbar.

  The crowd broke into cheers and the teams shook hands. Alistair Dods grimaced as he shook Paddy’s hand and he commiserated with him.

  ‘Och, sure it was a bit of a farce at the end but you were the better side,’ Alistair told him.

  ‘It was a shame it ended like that,’ said Eoin. ‘On a good day that would have been a really good game.’

  Chapter 22

  The Ireland dressing room was a joyful place, although it was almost impossible to see the expressions on the boys’ faces. Neil suggested they all take a shower with their gear on first, to wash away most of the mud.

  ‘That was a great display in one of the worst conditions for a rugby match I’ve ever seen,’ the coach began. ‘I’m sure, if it hadn’t been such a short tournament with teams from overseas, that the ref would have abandoned it early. But full marks for sticking with it and getting the points.’

  One of the coaches told them that because of the conditions the Wales v England game had been switched to the artificial grass pitch at the back of Aviva Stadium and the bus would drop off anyone that wanted to watch that game.

  Eoin, Charlie, Paddy and Noah put up their hands and so, washed and changed and wrapped up warm, twenty minutes later they were standing on the touchline watching thirty boys in red and white trying to battle with the same wind and rain – although they were spared the squelching mud.