Rugby Rebel (11 page)

M
R CAREY was in a terrible state. His bout of pre-match nerves was usually worse than any of the players’, but the vomiting bug outbreak had made him even more edgy. On the bus to the ground he walked up the centre aisle examining the eyes and faces of each of the players for signs of illness.

‘Mr Carey!’ called out the headmaster ‘You really need to relax. I’m sure the boys will let you know if they aren’t feeling well. It looks to me that the worst thing they are suffering from is nerves, and I’m not entirely sure you are helping to cure that.’

Eoin laughed. He was very relaxed himself. Having Rory and Dylan along was a great help, and Charlie Johnston was also there representing the year below on the Castlerock team. The fact that they had lost so many players was disappointing, but it also removed a great weight of pressure from the remainder. They weren’t expected to win now, and knowing that allowed them to approach the game with less stress.

The bus pulled into the stadium and parked alongside
that of the Belvedere team bus, which had just arrived too. Eoin scanned the faces of the adults who accompanied the team but the archivist, Brendan, wasn’t among them.

Castlerock had been allocated the home team dressing rooms and Eoin took that as a good omen – they had used them on his two previous finals there. They changed quickly and went for a run out on the field, watching the stands as the supporters trickled in wearing scarves, hats and jerseys of black and white or green and white.

Eoin spent most of his time trying place kicks from different angles, trying to gauge the wind direction in a stadium where it often swirled around in circles. Dylan helped him collect the balls in the netting sack and the pair waved at their families as they walked off the pitch.

As they reached the dressing room they sensed a new mood, and it wasn’t a good one. Mr Carey was rushing about and Rory was standing beside the door with his face almost pure white with shock.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Dylan.

‘It’s Paddy,’ said Rory. ‘When we came back in he started throwing up. He’s in the bathroom there.’

‘Oh no, that means–’

‘Yeah, I’m playing,’ gulped Rory.

The teams ran out onto the pitch with the stadium announcer telling the spectators ‘In a late change to the line-up in your programme, Rory Grehan will replace Paddy Buckley on the Castlerock College team.’

Eoin hung back to the end of the line, and patted Rory on the head as they left the tunnel. ‘You’ll be fine, Rory, stay cool and enjoy the day. No need to be nervous – you’ve played here more than any of the Belvo lads.’

Rory grinned. ‘Hey, good point. I never realised that. Good luck yourself.’

Dylan was right when he had remarked a couple of days before that his new team-mates were so much bigger than the Under 14s. And the Belvedere boys seemed bigger still.

Eoin’s previous playing visits to the Aviva Stadium had been when Castlerock were the support act for a big Leinster game, so the ground wasn’t as full now as it had been then. But there was still a huge crowd keen to see the old rivals battle it out.

Devin won the toss so Eoin got to start the game – he always preferred to kick-off. He took his time, propping the ball up and awaiting the referee’s instruction.

‘Let’s go,’ said the man in the yellow shirt, before releasing a loud blast on his whistle.

Eoin kicked the ball high, hoping it would hang in the air and give the Castlerock forwards time to get underneath. It worked out perfectly, with the Belvedere catcher instantly submerged by a wave of green and white shirts. The crowd roared their approval – it was always important to win the first play. Better still, the tacklers took the ball off the Belvo player and quickly funnelled it back to Rory.

The scrum-half was quick to get the ball to Eoin, whose kick into the far corner skimmed across the pitch like a flat stone and bounced into touch. The Castlerock supporters roared once more, sensing there could be points to be had from this amazing start.

At the line-out Devin soared in the air and caught the ball with both hands, as his team-mates gathered around, they drove towards the line. The Belvedere forwards were clearly shocked at how they were being pushed back by a smaller, lighter pack before they even had time to settle into the game.

Castlerock were just a couple of metres from the line. Rory stood with his hand on Devin’s back, and glanced back to Eoin who was staring him in the eye. Eoin nodded and flicked his eyes towards the ground to the right of the pack.

Rory got the message. As the maul inched forwards
Eoin took off to his right, distracting the Belvo cover, which moved to follow him. Rory grabbed the ball and dived for where the gap had opened up on the line. Twisting his body like a salmon he thrust the ball forwards and it hit the ground just over the white-washed line.

‘
Prrrreeeeeeeepp
,’ went the referee’s whistle, and his right arm shot straight up into the air.

Rory, who was buried beneath a pile of black-and-white-shirted bodies, took a while to emerge but was soon swamped by another cluster of green and white shirts.

He grinned at Eoin and mouthed ‘thanks’ before handing him the ball. Eoin propped it up on a tee and steadied himself for the kick. From the stands he heard a cry of ‘Go on, Eoin!’ from a familiar voice. He looked over to where Caoimhe and his own family were seated and grinned. Back he stepped and thumped the ball right between the goalposts.

A
SEVEN-point lead with less than two minutes gone is a pretty good start in any game. But Eoin was afraid that Castlerock may have just galvanised their opponents. Belvo were a powerful side and they would regroup from this setback. Their power meant they could expect to win more possession, and Castlerock’s main job would be to ensure they didn’t convert that into points.

Belvedere hit back hard, and Castlerock didn’t get out of their own half for the next twenty minutes. But a dropped pass allowed Eoin to gather and he found touch just beyond half-way. Zach had taken a knock so the rest of the players took the opportunity to drink some water and grab a few seconds’ rest.

‘We just need to keep making the tackles,’ said Devin, who had himself been covering more ground than anyone on either side. ‘Don’t let them get a glimpse of our line. We can do this.’

Devin again won the line-out, and this time Eoin went for a garryowen. He kicked the ball high into the
air and as their full-back caught it, Eoin followed up fast and floored him with a tackle. The Belvedere man didn’t release the ball however, and the referee awarded Castlerock a penalty which was well within Eoin’s range.

The half-time whistle blew soon after, and as they jogged off Devin pointed at the scoreboard. ‘Pinch me, someone,’ he said, ‘I would have laughed at you if you had told me we’d be ten-nil up at half-time.’

Despite the scoreline, the Castlerock dressing room was a grim place at the break. The tackles had taken a toll, with several players nursing aches and bruises and others trying to rest their battered bodies. Mr Carey and Devin spoke about keeping up the same level of commitment and making sure they didn’t make any silly errors in their own half.

Eoin slipped into the bathroom for a moment’s peace – but he didn’t get it.

‘Hello, Eoin, you’re playing well,’ came a familiar voice. Eoin turned to see Kevin and he noticed that he was still wearing his black and white Belvedere jersey.

‘I thought I’d show my colours today,’ he smiled. ‘I hope you don’t mind. Although I would prefer the College to win, I’ve become very fond of Castlerock in recent months.’

Brian, too, appeared and congratulated Eoin on his
fine display.

‘You’re probably standing too close to the scrum-half,’ he suggested. ‘That lad has a good pass and if you stand back a couple of steps you’ll have more options to go on the attack.’

Eoin nodded. Brian had always come up with some great advice during games. He’d have a word with Rory.

‘Thanks, lads. I’d better go now,’ he grinned. ‘I hope you’re cheering for Castlerock, Brian?’

‘Of course,’ grinned the ghost. ‘Never liked those Belvo boys from my own schooldays.’

Eoin smiled to himself and left the pair having a bit of banter about times long past.

T
HE team were already filing out of the dressing room, so Eoin grabbed a quick drink and jogged out at the back of the line. It had started to rain during the interval and the wind had picked up too.

Rory looked at the sky as they prepared for the Belvedere out-half to kick off. ‘Looks like it could get worse,’ he said, pointing at the black clouds that were moving in their direction.

The Belvedere team looked as if they had been given a serious talking-to at half-time, and seemed determined to get back into the game from the first kick. Their forwards swarmed after the ball, and pounced upon it quickly. With Castlerock on the back foot, the Belvedere scrum-half chipped the ball over their heads and set off at a gallop after it. Eoin turned quickly but he was already two metres behind the little No.9. He chased hard, and made a powerful flying tackle, but the Belvedere player’s momentum took him over the line for a try.

Devin was furious as the Castlerock team stood waiting
for the conversion. ‘They caught us while half of you were still in the dressing room,’ he fumed. ‘We need total focus for the next twenty-nine minutes, and anyone who’s not willing to do that should walk off right now and let me bring on someone who is.’

Devin’s mood was improved slightly when the Belvedere kicker badly hooked the ball wide, but the team in black and white were energised by their score and came roaring back on the attack. They spent the next ten minutes camped inside the Castlerock 22 but Devin, Charlie and Aaron Douglas led the way in repelling their attacks.

A knock-on gave Castlerock a scrum, which gave Eoin the chance to kick the ball upfield and relieve the pressure. Devin gave him a thumbs-up as they trotted into the Belvo half for the first time since the interval. ‘If we get a sniff of a chance to kick points, you should take it,’ he told Eoin. ‘An eight-point lead would make it just a bit more comfortable. We can’t hold out forever.’

Eoin nodded and took Rory aside – he had a plan to get within range. As Brian had suggested, he stood a couple of metres further back from where he usually would be, and when Rory fired the ball back he was already moving at speed. The momentum carried him through the first couple of tackles and suddenly he was
facing the Belvo full-back, a giant of a boy.

Eoin tried the sidestep that had been perfected on the field with Ormondstown Gaels, but the No.15 was ready for it and brought him down into the mud with a thumping tackle. Eoin rolled and released the ball, and Rory put his hand on it and grinned at him. ‘Watch this, bud,’ he said, before firing it back to Dylan who had taken Eoin’s place at out-half.

Eoin watched with horror as the little winger took the ball and with one easy movement, dropped it to the ground and kicked. The ball sailed high in the air before dropping over the bar.

The referee’s arm shot up, but the Castlerock players were too stunned to notice. After two seconds of silence Devin started to laugh. ‘What were you doing, you little pup? That could have gone anywhere!’

Dylan grinned back. ‘But it didn’t, did it? Straight down the middle and three points for the Rock.’

Eoin laughed too. ‘Have you ever dropped a goal before?’

‘Eh, now that you mention it … no,’ gulped Dylan. ‘It was Rory’s idea. I just didn’t think about it.’

With the score at 13-5 the Belvedere boys needed to score twice and they knew it. A couple of heads had drooped with Dylan’s drop goal and they seemed to lose
heart as time ran down.

The stadium clock showed that less than two minutes were left when Belvedere won a penalty inside the 22, and their kicker converted. The sudden realisation that they now had a chance to snatch a win gave them a huge boost, and when the Castlerock kick-off went to ground they charged into the ruck.

The sheer ferocity of the attack rattled Eoin’s team-mates and soon the ball emerged on the Belvo side. The black-and-white backs lined-up, ready to go on the attack, while Castlerock’s steeled themselves to repel one final attack. Eoin took a quick glance at the giant scoreboard where the clock was ticking down: 12, 11, 10, 9 …

The Belvo out-half made a break before passing the ball out to his centres, who were powerful runners and broke through their tackles. Suddenly it was three against two, and the Belvedere backs flicked it on to their winger. He had looked very sharp earlier in the game, but this was his first chance to run. He took off and was just a metre from touching down when a green and white blur came in from his left-hand side. It was as if a hand grenade had been lobbed at the winger as he was sent flying by the thumping tackle, and his body folded in surrender as he tumbled over
the touchline in defeat.

The referee put the whistle to his lips for the last time and sounded an end to the thrilling contest. The Belvedere winger stood up and shook himself down before patting his tackler on the head.

‘Well done,’ he admitted. ‘That was some hit.’

Dylan looked up, dazed, and grinned. ‘Is it over? Did we win?’ he asked.

The sight of fourteen players in green and white charging towards him gave him his answer.

T
HE sight of Devin lifting the famous old trophy was the sweetest thing Eoin had seen in a long time. ‘No pressure, but that’ll be you next year,’ quipped Rory.

The team sat around the dressing room for half an hour, just enjoying their win and reliving the moment when Dylan dropped his goal. The little winger tried to drop-kick plastic water bottles into a waste basket but failed with every single one.

As Eoin was leaving the dressing room he was stopped by a tap on his shoulder. It was Brendan, the Belvedere archivist who was accompanied by Mr Finn. ‘Congratulations, young man. That was a great performance today, although you will forgive me for not cheering you on. I heard from Andy here about your discoveries and I look forward to sharing some information with him.’

Eoin produced the key from his pocket. ‘Thank you, and apologies for not delivering this back before now, but I just didn’t have any spare time.’

Mr Finn smiled. ‘Brendan was telling me that Belvedere
was recently presented with a photograph of one of their former pupils scoring a try out on that field there, and he has given us a very nice copy for our own archive.’ He opened a large brown envelope to reveal a photo of a boy in black and white sprinting over to score at Lansdowne Road in the days when there was a grand-stand on only one side of the ground. Eoin smiled and gazed down at the historical figure who had shared his love of rugby and become his friend.

‘That’s Kevin Barry,’ said Eoin, ‘I’ve been doing a project on him in history.’

‘I have something for Brendan too,’ said Mr Finn, producing a hardback notebook. ‘This is the record book of the rugby teams at Castlerock, with all the results and teams from the earliest days. There are some marvellous names here, including the same Master Barry playing for Belvedere.

‘Maybe you could borrow these items for your presentation,’ said Mr Finn, ‘you certainly deserve it.’

‘I’d like that,’ said Eoin.

Eoin joined his family for a few minutes and was delighted to see how happy Caoimhe and her mum were that Dylan had been the hero of the day. It was a relief to share the spotlight.

Dixie shook Eoin’s hand and smiled. ‘I’ve been talking
to a man here today who was asking me lots of questions about you and your rugby. In fact, he’s standing right behind you …’

Eoin turned and was surprised to see a man in a blue and white rain jacket with a white harp on his chest.

‘Well played today, son. I was very impressed. I’ve been watching a few of your games this season and I wonder would you like to get some coaching at a higher level,’ he asked.

Eoin wasn’t quite sure what the man meant, and must have looked puzzled because the newcomer laughed.

‘I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself, of course. I’m the head of youth rugby with Leinster. We’d really like you to get involved with our academy.’

Eoin was stunned, and didn’t know what to say. He looked past the man’s shoulder where he could see two figures running around the field pretending they were still playing rugby many years after they had departed. Kevin and Brian stopped, and waved at Eoin.

‘Say yes,’ roared Brian.

‘OK,’ laughed Eoin, turning to the man. ‘I mean … yes. Yes, please!’