Little Croker (8 page)

W
hen the boys approached the house they saw that Larry’s Bentley was in the driveway.

No sooner had their shoes made their first crunch on the driveway than the hall door opened and Regina stormed out.

‘Inside you two. Jonathon, you’re in big trouble with your father, young man.’

She blanked Danny.

Larry was pacing up and down the lounge with a double brandy in his hand, when the boys walked in.

Danny being Danny, tried to explain to Larry that it was all his idea, but Larry wasn’t having any of it. As far as he was concerned,
Danny wasn’t even in the room.

Danny’s heart went out to his cousin as he watched Larry deal with his son.

Jonathon was in tears.

Danny couldn’t watch any more of this. Although he dreaded his own father finding out about their antics, he knew that Mick would have at least tried to talk to him, and would have given him the chance to explain.

Just as Danny turned to leave the room, the door bell rang and Regina opened it.

Danny Wilde’s heart skipped two beats when he saw who walked into the hall.

Even with a walking stick in hand and Trinity’s mother by his side supporting him, Mick Wilde looked taller and stronger to Danny than he ever had before.

‘Dad!’ sighed Danny and he ran over and threw his arms around Mick.

Larry was still in full swing in the lounge as Mick slowly, but assertively, walked towards the room. 

‘Stay here, son,’ he said to Danny, ‘I’ve old business to take care of with your uncle.’

The second Mick appeared in the lounge there was instant silence, almost as if somebody had flicked a switch and turned Larry off.

Mick was angry when he saw the state that his nephew was in.

‘Go on out to your mammy, Jonathon. Me and your daddy are going have a little chat.’

Jonathon didn’t look for his father’s approval this time as he rushed out of the room.

Mick raised his walking stick and pushed the door closed.

‘You’ve no business in this house,’ growled Larry.

Mick didn’t answer straight away. He just stood there with his piercing eyes fixed on his brother’s.

‘What happened to you, Larry?’ asked Mick. 

Larry just huffed and picked up his drink.

‘You’re putting your son through torture because of what? Something that happened between us when we were kids. Well, I’m sorry, Larry. Is that what you want to hear?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Mick. How I raise my children is my business, and it’s nothing to do with you.’

‘Don’t worry, Larry, I didn’t drag myself out of hospital to come here and tell you how to raise that boy. But what I will tell you, is that you’ve got a wonderful kid there. Good God, Larry, he’s a national hero on the news, and here you are tearing ribbons out of him!’

‘The boy disrespected me and he disrespected my rules. He needs to know the difference between right and wrong.’

Mick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Larry sounded as if he was in a courtroom instead of his home.

‘He needs to be happy, you dirty-lookin’ eejit, and if playing football for Littlestown 
Crokes makes him happy, what’s the big deal?’

‘What would you know about Jonathon’s happiness. That boy wants for nothing.’

‘Wants for nothing, you say. Is that why he was playing football behind your back?’

Larry was about to leave the room.

‘Stay where you are,’ insisted Mick. ‘You’re not running this time.’

‘I don’t have to take this rubbish from you.’

‘Do you hate me that much, Larry? Are you so content with your mansion and fast car and your fast life that you don’t have a drop of compassion for your own flesh and blood?’

‘I don’t need you or your kind in my life, Mick. Now get out and take your son with you.’

Mick turned away and opened the door.

‘When my wife died, do you know what made the pain worse?’ A tear rolled down Mick’s face. ‘My own brother wasn’t there for 
me when I needed him most. Don’t take Danny away from Jonathon, your son will resent you for it.’

Mick closed the door behind him.

Regina was sitting on the stairs being comforted by Trinity’s mother. She was in floods of tears. The thought of the two brothers hating each other so much really upset her.

‘Come on, Danny, let’s get Heffo. There’s a taxi waiting outside, we’re going home, son.’

Jonathon walked over to his cousin and gave him a hug and banged him on the back.

‘Thanks, Danny,’ he whispered. ‘Good luck against Barnfield.’

E
ven though Danny Wilde was thrilled that his dad was home and delighted to be a local celebrity, he just couldn’t get Jonathon out of his head. Every single one of the seven days leading up to the last game of the season, he missed his cousin.

It was 8 November, judgement day, and nearly everyone from Littlestown Lawns surrounded the Little Croker to support their local heroes’ team.

It had only been seven weeks since the last home game, back before Mick had his stroke, when Danny had his one moment alone, standing at the side of the Little Croker. But so many things had changed for Danny in

that short time. The pitch was surrounded by hundreds of supporters, Danny had Mick back by his side and it wasn’t football that occupied his mind, but Jonathon.

Jimmy had all the players in their gear and ready for Mick’s return to the dressing room.

Barnfield were going through their motions in the away dressing room. The chants they were making were chilling.

‘Are yiz ready?’ asked Jimmy as Heffo
peeped
his head in around the dressing room door.

The door opened.

The boys of Littlestown Crokes rose to their feet and clapped as their manager walked in. To Mick, it was like coming home.

Mick was just about to begin his pre-match talk when Danny jumped up and cheered.

‘Jonathon!’

His cousin was standing outside the dressing room with Larry by his side.

‘Go on, son,’ said Larry, and he nodded to 
Mick.

‘Care to join us?’ smiled Mick.

Larry shook his head and smiled back.

‘There’s only room in that dressing room for one counsel. See you on the line.’

Anto Farrell stood up and took the number eight jersey off and handed it to Jonathon.

‘Here, J,’ he said.

Anto’s voluntary, selfless action brought it all home to Mick why he loved GAA so much. His team was a family, his family, and now his brother had returned to his family and that made his years of dedication to the sport worthwhile.

‘Right, home team!’ called the referee. Mick hadn’t delivered his talk yet.

Mick looked all around the room stopping to make eye contact with each and every one of his players.

‘I’m proud of you all, lads. Today is all 
about you, boys. You’ve worked so hard for this day. Just go out there and enjoy the game — you’re already winners in my book.’

The Barnfield players made as much noise as they could passing Mick’s dressing room.

Mick raised the tempo.

‘Right lads! To your feet,’ yelled Mick and he blew hard on his whistle.

At the top of his voice, Mick Wilde roared, ‘When you go out onto that pitch boys, where are you playing?’

‘The Little Croker!’ replied the team.

‘I can’t hear you!’ yelled Mick.

‘THE LITTLE CROKER!’ repeated his boys with extra vigour.

‘And how are we going to play this last game?’

‘LIKE THE ALL-IRELAND FINAL!!!’ came the reply.

‘Then get out there and win that title!’

Larry took his place among the crowd to watch his son and Mick’s son line up together in the centre of the same football pitch that he and his brother grew up playing on.

Mick just stood with his arms folded, relaxed, but the second the referee threw the ball up in the air he roared, ‘Come on the Crokes!’

The crowd got behind him and started cheering for their team.

Danny Wilde jumped against Deco Savage for the opening throw in of the final game of the under-13’s league. Deco was well known as a dirty player, and in fact had badly fouled Danny when Littlestown played Barnfield in the Cup Final during the summer.

Savage beat Danny to the ball and passed it back to his number nine, but Jonathon was all fired up with the thoughts of his father watching from the sideline.

Jonathon robbed the ball from the Barnfield midfielder and charged towards 
goal. If there was one talent that Danny had noticed in his cousin it was that he had the ability to kick the ball long and accurate.

The new Littlestown Crokes’ number eight kicked an enormous pass up to Doyler who had switched back to centre half forward. Doyler collected the ball, turned his marker and kicked it along the ground towards Barry Sweeney at full forward. The number fourteen clipped the ball up into his hands and while facing away from goal he cheekily knocked it over his head for a wonderful point.

Splinter spotted Sean Dempsey and his dad watching from the Barnfield supporter’s line. They didn’t look too happy. Splinter smiled cheekily in their direction, as if to say, Who’s sorry now?

The Barnfield goalkeeper made a blunder of his kick out and Crokes right full forward, Jason Delaney, took full advantage.

The number thirteen sent the ball back 
across the box. Splinter had left his marker sleeping and ran in behind Barry Sweeney and his marker. The keeper made an attempt to clear the ball, but Splinter dived at his feet and blocked the clearance. Doyler’s right boot was the next thing to make contact with the ball sending it into the net.

GOAL!

The home crowd cheered as all the Crokes’ players celebrated.

Jimmy danced around Mick.

‘Here we go!’ he laughed

‘Hold your horses, Jimmy!’ smiled Mick. There was a long way to go yet!

Barnfield were in shock with the bombardment from Crokes. Their manager hurled instructions at them to get them to lift their game.

It worked!

Danny’s team and Jimmy were to pay for their premature celebrations.

Mick was right! The Crokes’ manager knew 
just how good Barnfield were, after all they had beaten his team in the cup final.

Barnfield upped their game to an outstanding level.

They plundered the home team’s half of the pitch for every ball and by the time the referee blew his whistle for half time, Littlestown Crokes were trailing by a score of 1-2 to 0-7.

Larry moved closer down the line at half-time to get a closer look at Mick in action with the boys.

Mick’s boys looked ragged as he delivered his half-time talk.

‘We’re going to have to up the pace again from the throw in, lads,’ encouraged Mick. ‘And look for each other. Darren and Karl, try and pick out a player with your passes rather than just knocking the ball anywhere.’

Mick was talking to his half-backs.

Larry had noticed that too. The ball was being given back to Barnfield every time 
Crokes worked hard to break their attacks down, and that was putting extra strain on the team.

Mick made two changes for the second half to try and inject a boost of pace, with fresh legs.

Both teams took their positions and the referee threw the ball up in the air.

This time Jonathon jumped for the throw-in against Deco Savage.

The Crokes’ number eight could feel the ball touching his right hand when, CLATTER! Savage caught Jonathon in the ear with his elbow, just as he had to Danny in the cup final.

The referee blew hard on his whistle as Jonathon fell to the ground, holding his head. There was blood.

Danny pushed Savage to the ground.

‘Just because you’re called Savage doesn’t mean you have to act that way too!’

‘Get in there, Jimmy!’ instructed Mick. 
Larry ran after Jimmy, and Mick followed Larry as quick as his legs would take him.

There was pandemonium in the centre of the field between Larry and Barnfield’s manager as Mick and Jimmy tended to Jonathon.

Deco Savage wanted to go for Danny for pushing him to the ground, but he was quickly ushered out of the way.

Jonathon wasn’t hurt as badly as first expected. His ear was cut, so Jimmy wrapped a bandage around his head to cover the wound.

By the time the referee restored order and sent all non-players back to their lines, a good ten minutes was already gone on the clock and there hadn’t even been one kick of the ball.

To the delight of Barnfield and utter disgust of Littlestown, Deco Savage got off without even a warning as the referee concluded that it was injury by accident. Deco was just going 
for the ball.

Total rubbish! thought Danny.

Once again the ball was thrown high in the air. Jonathon wasn’t jumping for a second helping of Savage’s elbow so Danny gladly stepped in.

Savage made a clean challenge this time as he knew that a repeat of his tricks would get him the red card.

Danny leapt high and won the ball fair and square, knocking it and his opponent to the ground. Just like the first day Danny Wilde had passed the ball to his cousin outside their granny’s flat, Jonathon passed the ball back to Danny and the Crokes’ captain went on a Danny solo, leaving the Savage eating dirt.

Barnfield’s centre half back charged out at Danny leaving Doyler unmarked.

Danny lobbed the ball over his head and into the path of Doyler, then Danny raced past the centre half back in support of Doyler.

Barry Sweeney, Crokes’ full forward pulled 
the centre full back wide, opening the way to goal for Doyler, but Doyler panicked and hit the ball wide of the posts.

No score!

That’s the way it was for the next fifteen minutes of the game. Every time Danny or Jonathon won the ball in midfield and sent it up the field, Crokes’ forward line wasted their chances.

Only for the two Wilde boys getting stuck in, Barnfield probably would have increased their lead, but they hadn’t scored either and the gap remained at two points in Barnfield’s favour as the remaining minutes closed in.

Mick, Jimmy and Larry were pumping sweat on the line and to make matters worse, Tommy and Sean Dempsey were now standing beside them and taunting them.

Crokes were on the attack as Splinter belted down the line chasing a long ball from his left half forward.

Danny knew that this was their last chance 
so he and Jonathon headed into the Barnfield goal area in anticipation of a ball in from Splinter.

The tension on the home team’s line was boiling over as Tommy Dempsey kept shouting at the referee to blow up.

Never before had Mick Wilde seen Jimmy Murphy lose his temper, but Tommy had his nerves gone. Jimmy turned to Tommy just as his son sent a piercing low ball across the goal mouth.

‘If you don’t shut–’

Jimmy never got to finish that sentence because at that split second, everybody along the Littlestown line roared the same word.

‘PENALTY!’

Barry Sweeney had picked up Splinter’s pass and just as he was about to shoot, who was there to take his legs from under him? Deco Savage.

The crowd moved up the line towards the goal.

Danny asked the referee for the ball.

‘What’s left, ref?’ asked the captain.

The referee smiled.

‘This will be the last kick of the game.’

Danny’s heart was racing. He knew that it had to be a goal if they were to take the title.

Jimmy, Mick and Larry were now chewing on their fingers.

‘I can’t watch, Mick!’ said Jimmy, turning away.

If Jimmy was nervous with the thought of the team’s star player taking the all-important last kick of the season, then he was surely ready for a stretcher as Danny Wilde shocked everyone by throwing the ball to Jonathon.

‘You can do it, J!’ said Danny.

Half of the Crokes’ players had to turn away, like Jimmy.

Jonathon nervously placed the ball on the spot. His legs were like jelly.

‘Okay, goalkeeper?’ asked the referee.

The goalkeeper nodded. 

The whistle blew.

‘Okay, Eight! When you’re ready.’

Jonathon Wilde slowly walked back from the ball for his run up.

He took in a big breath of air and fixed his eyes on one spot in the goal. That was his target.

‘Go on, son!’ roared Larry from the side line.

THUMP!

The ball left Jonathon’s boot and rocketed towards the goal and smashed into the top right hand corner of the net.

The title was Crokes’!

All the Crokes players lifted Jonathon up in the air as the pitch was invaded by all the local supporters.

When Mick and Jimmy were finished hugging and congratulating each other, Jimmy let Heffo off his lead and ran with the home team’s mascot onto the pitch.

Larry put his hand out to shake Mick’s. 

‘Congratulations.’

‘Thanks to your son!’ smiled Mick and the handshake turned into a hug.

Danny and Jonathon left the celebration to join their dads. There was a tall bearded man talking to Mick.

‘Danny,’ smiled Mick. ‘I want you to meet Mr Jenkins.’

Mick had rung Mr Jenkins the week before the final game and explained why Danny had missed his training session with the development squad. Mr Jenkins agreed to come and watch the game, but Mick thought it would be best if he didn’t say anything to Danny just in case it interfered with his game.

‘Great game, Danny,’ said Mr Jenkins and he reached out to shake Danny Wilde’s hand.

Then Mr Jenkins turned towards Jonathon.

‘And you must be Jonathon, Danny’s cousin.’

Larry had been proudly bragging about his son. 

‘It’s clear to see after that game that talent runs in the Wilde family! We’ve another training session coming up soon, boys, and I’d like if both of you could be there,’ continued Mr Jenkins, then he smiled, and looked at Mick, ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said, and bid them farewell.

Danny and Jonathon rejoined the celebrations with the rest of the team knowing in their hearts that this victorious day was just the beginning of great days ahead, for all the Wilde boys, on the Little Croker.