The Legends (20 page)

Eventually, what began as a man and a boy practicing by themselves became a large group of laughing children practicing with games and competitions, which concluded with a full scrimmage usually with far more than eleven on a side. Molly, the wolfhound was always present, nearly a mascot to the goings on because all the children got to know her and greet her when they arrived. Somehow Molly seemed to know that the pitch was for the children so she either roamed the sidelines with Nigel barking occasional encouragement, or sat quietly keeping a close eye on the competition.

In all those games, Nigel never saw his protégé score a goal and yet, established in the middle of the field, he completely controlled the play of his team. Nigel could see that Brian had excellent field vision making good through passes so that his teammates could run onto the ball, although what happened at the end of the pass was always a surprise. Even though he was undoubtedly capable of passing over the heads of the children, most of the games were played on the ground and Brian appeared to be quite the expert at picking out the appropriate passing lanes.

Although the Saturday sessions were not particularly competitive, which might have pushed Brian to perform to his capabilities, for Nigel they were the next best thing. Brian had an opportunity to actually play the game, develop his field vision and interact with other players irrespective of their skill levels. Most of all, Brian seemed to enjoy the experience and he was accepted by the other children even though they all realized that he was a far superior player.

As frequently happens, all good things must come to an end and so it was with the Saturday sessions. The sheer size of the gathering brought other curious onlookers including a few parents who came along to see what their children were so excited about. Nigel spoke with a couple of parents and was gratified to be told that the session was the highlight of the week for several of the children. One father explained that his daughter had been entirely put off soccer because she was not having any fun in the league where she was playing. Apparently there was too much structure, too much yelling and very little joy. The man was delighted to see how much she enjoyed her playing on Saturday.

Another parent wondered exactly how it all came about, and Nigel explained that he was just working out with a local child, having a bit of fun, and soon the news spread. He insisted that he wasn’t doing any coaching at all, only supervising a bit of mayhem. That mother explained that she didn’t know that much about the game but that her son’s coach, in an organized league, remarked on how much the boy had improved. All in all, the sessions seemed like a great success, not just for Brian but also for a large group of children. Eventually, however, the penny dropped.

It started with a casual conversation between Nigel and another parent who happened to be a lawyer. Nigel was asked whether he was part of some organization and his response was same as he had given to other parents. He explained how it all came about and that he was just making it easier for the children to have a bit of fun.

“You realize, of course,” the lawyer said stroking his chin, “that if any child gets hurt, you are likely to be liable at law unless, of course, all the parents of these children sign some legally binding waiver.”

Nigel looked on in amazement. “To be honest,” he replied, “I never thought about that but I suppose I should have known. I guess I figured that children play all the time and occasionally someone gets hurt, but that is all part of growing up.”

The lawyer replied, “Yes, that was how it was when we were growing up. But now you see people are looking to blame someone for everything that happens. I must say my own profession has a lot to answer for as well. So even though these children are only having a bit of fun you become a target if anything happens, no matter how innocent it may be.”

Nigel thought about that, balancing the risks to himself against the benefit to Brian and, indeed, all of the children. In the end he took a good look at his blanket liability insurance policy and decided to get clarification from his broker. Unfortunately, just after Nigel arranged a meeting to discuss the matter another lawyer acting on behalf of the school system contacted him.

The message from the school was clear. While they had no difficulty with local people using their pitches and fields, they could not permit regular organized activities. If someone were to be injured the school would become a defendant in a lawsuit because, with knowledge of the activity, they allowed it to continue. If, however, Brian were to arrange for proper indemnification and insurance cover, and apply for permission from the Department of Education, the school might consider allowing the activity to continue.

In the end, Nigel had little choice but to end the sessions. Explaining the situation to Brian and the other children was another matter entirely. There were many sad faces the next Saturday when he sat everyone down and explained that the practice sessions would have to stop because there were rules, which would not allow the group to continue to play on the school grounds. After the cries of protest, Nigel explained that he didn’t like it any more than anyone else but everyone had to obey the rules, just as they needed to obey their parents.

Brian seemed to understand, particularly when Nigel explained that the two would continue to work together as they always had, just not on the school fields. Brian was disappointed however because he loved playing with a large group of children for the first time in his life.

As they walked home after the disappointment that Saturday, passing the ball back and forth as they always did, Nigel said, “You know I just had a great idea. If it is all right with your parents, we will go into the city for the Germany soccer friendly at Lansdowne Road next week and, while we are at it, we can find you a proper pair of football boots. How does that sound?”

Predictably, Brian was thrilled and the disappointment of the day was forgotten.

The trip to Lansdowne Road was the first of several trips that soon replaced many of the practice sessions. Mr. Blessington and Brian would frequently attended matches played by the various Irish professional teams, particularly Drogheda United, and once they even flew to Liverpool to see their favorite team in action. Nigel always smiled at the memory of that trip.

Although it had been many years since his career prematurely ended, Nigel had remained in contact with the club and had been involved in the business end of the operation when he worked for a bank in England. As a result he was well connected with the management and had no difficulty obtaining premium seating in Anfield just behind the team. He also arranged for his for his prize pupil to meet the players in the locker room after the match. Thankfully, Liverpool won easily and the players were in high spirits.

Like any little boy meeting his heroes, Brian could not have been more excited but when he entered the locker room awe took the place of excitement and he stood still with a big smile on his face, smiling and saying nothing. The players, however, soon sorted him out and the captain himself took Brian around introducing him to everyone and showing him all the nooks and crannies of the dressing room. Brian left with an armful of souvenirs, an even bigger smile and memories that would last a lifetime.

Nigel stood aside as Brian enjoyed his experience. It occurred to him at the time that the Liverpool players had no way of realizing that this child could quite possibly attain a skill level that would dwarf their professional talents. In fact, he was already well on his way.

Margaret O’Neill just finished her tea when the telephone rang. She experienced an immediate premonition that something terrible had happened and what was worse, a vision of young Brian, who only left her house a couple of hours earlier, flashed through her mind. Years ago, Margaret might have accused herself of being silly, but in the past few years, particularly since the remarkable events that surrounded the arrival of Brian O’Sullivan in her life, she had stopped dismissing these visions.

Margaret was now acutely aware of her unconscious thoughts because they always seemed to be an accurate depiction of what was to come. Perhaps it was her introduction to Brian but Margaret now accepted the she was “fey” as the old ones used to say when she was a young girl, and as such occasionally able to know and understand things before they were actually explained to her. In the past it was a curiosity that often made her smile but on this occasion she was truly terrified to answer the telephone.

Realizing she had no choice, Margaret picked up the phone as said softly, “Hello.”

The woman’s voice on the other end replied, “Margaret, this is Evelyn, are you alright?”

Margaret took a deep breath and said in a more normal voice, “Of course Evelyn,”

For a moment Margaret thought that perhaps, for once, her premonition was wrong when the voice in the phone said, “That’s better, you didn’t sound like yourself when you answered the phone.”

But then Evelyn continued, “I’m afraid we have some bad news here, Margaret. Molly has died.”

The old woman put her hand to her mouth thinking how distraught Brian must be. “What happened Evelyn? She seemed fine when she left here just a short time ago.”

“I’m sure she was,” her friend replied, “but Molly was over eleven years old which is very old for an Irish wolfhound. When she came back to the house she curled up on her rug in the sun porch and fell asleep. Perhaps she had a heart attack but by the time Brian changed clothes and filled me in on the news, she had passed away. The poor little fellow brought her a bowl of water and then he realized that something was wrong. Oh, Margaret, it was heartbreaking.”

“I am so sorry Evelyn,” Margaret said, “How is he taking it?”

“Not well, I’m afraid,” was the response. “He is lying over there with his arms around her crying his little eyes out. You know, now that I think about it, this is the first time he has ever cried. But of course it is also his first experience with the death of someone he is very close to. Margaret, I just don’t know what to do.”

Margaret responded, “Evelyn, let me think for a moment.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. Her friend was counting on her, as was the little boy who had become closer to her than any of her own grandchildren. The solution, when it came, was as much a surprise to her as it was to Evelyn but she had nothing else to offer.

“This is what I think you should do,” she said with a conviction she really didn’t feel. “You tell Brian that you called me to tell me about Molly, and I am feeling very sad. After all, I knew Molly since she was a puppy, even before Brian was born. You tell Brian that I was hoping he would come over and we could feel sad together, and maybe that way we would both feel better. I think he will come, I really do. If he does you will have to get Cathal and maybe Paddy if he is around, to find a big box for Molly, wrap her in her old blanket and dig a proper grave in the back garden. Put the box next to the grave and when that is ready, Brian and I will come back and we can have a proper burial ceremony.”

“Thank you Margaret,” Evelyn said softly, “I will give it a try.”

Evelyn walked over and knelt down next to her son. She put her arm around the boy and gently rubbed his back. Feeling his mother so close, Brian shifted his attention to her and she put her arms around him rocking her son back and forth.

“It’s all right love, it’s all right,” she whispered. “You know Molly was very old and tired but now she has gone where all good dogs go. And now she is running and playing with her own mother and father just like she is a puppy again. I know you miss her already but her time came to leave this life and she left with happy memories of all the time she spent with you. Molly had a very happy life and you must always remember that.”

Brian cried, “But I don’t want her to die.”

“Of course not, love,” Evelyn said softly, “Molly was a wonderful and very smart dog but we all must die sometime and dogs don’t live as long as people so her time had come. I know you feel terrible but we all feel the same way. You know I just rang Mrs. O’Neill to tell her about Molly and I think she might be crying as well. Why don’t we walk over to her house and maybe you can help her to feel better.”

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, Brian’s crying turned to sobs between which he managed to answer, “Do you really think I can make Mrs. O’Neill feel better?”

“Yes,” Evelyn answered solemnly, “after all the two of you were Molly’s best friends. Remember Mrs. O’Neill used to give Molly treats even when she was a little puppy and that was even before you were born. I think you are the only one who can make her feel better.”

“Alright” the boy said, scratching Molly’s ear one more time before he got to his feet. “What are we going to do about Molly?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Evelyn replied as cheerfully as she could manage. “I will walk you over to Mrs. O’Neill’s house and leave the two of you together. Then I will come back here and by that time Daddy will be here and I will call Uncle Paddy and the two of them will find a nice box and when you come back, we will have a proper ceremony and bury her in the back garden.”

Evelyn took her son’s hand and the two left the house and headed up the roadway to Mrs. O’Neill’s house. The mother and son did not speak during the short walk. Occasionally Brian, perhaps remembering some moment with his dog, sobbed and Evelyn walked along feeling helpless because she could think of nothing to do or say that would further comfort him.

Margaret met Brian and Evelyn at the gate and leaning down she hugged the young boy as he began to sob once again. Taking Brian by the hand she led him into the house. On entering the kitchen, Margaret took out some milk and the cookies she knew Brian liked. Looking around, the room seemed totally empty without the big dog under the kitchen table and she appreciated, once again, the enormity of the young boy’s loss.

“I glad you came over,” Margaret said sitting down next to her young friend. “You know that I feel terrible about poor Molly because just like she was your best friend, she always made me feel special when she sat there under the table. I think she liked me as much as I liked her.”