The Legends (36 page)

“I’m sure you can hear the roar from the stands as those who remain, apparently even St. Finbars supporters, are on their feet shouting their approval. Hagerty has run into the net and retrieved the ball running it out to the center of the pitch. There is no doubt that St. Killians, or should we say Brian O’Sullivan wants one more shot in the waning seconds of the match.”

Margaret sat in her chair not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Her Brian was apparently not as badly hurt as the announcer first suggested and for that she was relieved. On the other hand, she could only wonder what was transpiring on the field. The announcer had said that Brian seemed to be in a trance and all Margaret could think about was Cúchulainn and his “red mist.” The legends reported that Cúchulainn could summon a type of trance, which, once entered, left him invincible. Had Brian summoned the same legacy inherited from his father three thousand years earlier? Was he really performing impossible feats? If so, what would people think about her young friend who was hardly more than a boy? “Too early”, she thought, “much too early.”

“We are into injury time and St. Finbars restarts the match. Coach McElhatton is shouting at his players to attack the ball while Coach O’Leary wants his players to play keep away. Walton kicks the ball over to Dunphy then to Nolan and here comes a wave of Killians players Dunphy kicks the ball back toward Long who has lost the ball over the touchline. Throw in to Killians. Mulvey takes the ball obviously looking for O’Sullivan. He takes three steps and heaves the ball a long way toward the middle of the field. O’Sullivan again rises high in the air and this time takes the ball on his chest coming down in full control. With due respect to the St. Finbars players I think they know they are in trouble. The young man’s jaw is set and he appears to be staring straight ahead looking neither left nor right although it is apparent that he sees everything and knows exactly where everyone is positioned. O’Sullivan begins his run chipping over an on-rushing Nolan, catching the ball on the top of his right foot and spinning to the left avoiding the challenge of Stephen Long. Three St. Finbars players are moving forward in tandem, but O’Sullivan rolls the ball between Dunphy’s legs, into an open area to the left. He sprints through the defenders and chases the ball down as it nears the left touch-line, where he again squares up to the defenders. Coach O’Leary is screaming for his players to get back and it looks like there are now nine Finbars and a half dozen Killians boys in the box with Ntumba challenging the ball. Certainly notmuch room for O’Sullivan to operate. Ó Suileabháin’s head is up as he moves toward the end line, check that, he stepped over the ball with his right foot and heeled the ball with his left leaving young Ntumba lunging toward the end line. O’Sullivan takes two steps toward the box and shoots with his right…. What a shot…oh my… unbelievable…it’s in the back of the net…it’s in the back of the net… now I have seen everything… The shot took off like a bullet toward the right post and at the last possible moment seemed to bend high into the right corner. The keeper was planted in the middle of the goal but the ball arrived so quickly there was nothing he could do. Sean Walton, guarding the back post, jumped but the shot was well over his head. Brian O’Sullivan picked the only possible spot through the Finbars defense and executed the bending shot, on the run, with a precision that would leave David Beckham standing in awe. The crowd is on its feet roaring, clapping and stamping their feet in approval. St. Killians have taken the lead three to two and this time it is St. Finbars rushing for the restart. Unfortunately for them, the referee is looking at his watch and there can’t be much injury time left. He may allow the restart but not much more. Dunphy kicks the ball forward to Nolan who sends it long up the touchline toward Ntumba who is immediately confronted by O’Sullivan. Ntumba looks for an outlet and pushes the ball to his left, right onto the right foot of O’Sullivan who anticipated the move and, once again, takes control of the ball. O’Sullivan moves to an open spot and stops. H is standing still, his right foot on the ball, making no attempt to advance. O’Sullivan is staring straight ahead and seems to be daring the St. Finbars players to try to take the ball. Somehow, I don’t think there will be many takers. The referee has put the whistle in his mouth as he checks his watch one last time…and there’s the final whistle and St. Killians are the Leinster senior high school league champions by a score of three goals to two.”

Margaret put her hands over her mouth in excitement. She was so completely exhausted that she felt like she had played the entire match. Her mind was a jumble of emotions from excitement, to relief, to concern so she tried to concentrate on the important thing. Her wonderful Brian apparently came through his ordeal intact and she could only imagine the excitement he must be experiencing.

Brian O’Sullivan found himself standing in the middle of the pitch, surrounded by his teammates while supporters streamed down from the stands. From the shouts of celebration, it was clear that St. Killians won the match and they were now the newly crowned Munster provincial champions but he was a little vague on exactly how that had happened. He did remember lying on a stretcher on the sidelines as a doctor examined his right knee. He also remembered looking up at the scoreboard and seeing that his team was behind by two goals with just over five minutes to play.

Remembering his injury, Brian reached down placing a hand on each side of his right knee. No question about it, the knee definitely hurt, an experience that was entirely new to Brain who had never experienced even so much as a sore muscle. Looking up at the scoreboard, he saw the final score posted, St. Killians 3—St. Finbars 2. So by what miracle, had his team overcome a two goal deficit in the final minutes? Perhaps, just as Mr. Blessington had suggested, the team had enough confidence to mount an improbable comeback even while he was injured and unable to play.

Brian’s teammates where climbing all over him mussing his hair and slapping him on the back so obviously they thought he had something to do with the result. In all honesty, however he couldn’t remember anything since he was stretchered off the pitch and watched helplessly as Finbars scored their two quick goals. How could he possibly not remember those last five minutes? Rather than appear to be a complete idiot by asking someone, Brian decided to accept the score for what it was and so he smiled happily, joining in the celebration.

Billy Hagerty jumped on his back in celebration, reminding Brian of his sore knee, and he winced with pain. “The knee lads, the knee,” he groaned.

“Sorry mate,” Hagerty replied puzzled at Brian’s reaction. There certainly didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the knee when his teammate single-handedly took over the match not ten minutes earlier.

Big John Thornton ran over when he saw his young friend’s pain. “Still hurts, huh?” he asked. “

“Brutal,” Brian replied with a crooked smile.

“Must be a delayed reaction.” Thornton concluded as he took his position at Brian’s side, itnent on protecting him from any unnecessary jostling.

Brian looked over at the big senior and said, “By the way, thanks for defending me out there. A little more that was necessary, but much appreciated anyway.”

Thornton mussed Brian’s hair, “No worries mate,” he said with a smile.

Brian looked around the pitch to see that most of the supporters had left the stands and were now dancing and shouting among the players. A few Finbars players also joined in and were shaking hands with their adversaries. None of them seemed particularly interested in actually approaching Brian and his big bodyguard but they congratulated him from a distance by giving him the thumbs up.

He looked over at Coach McElhatton who was being interview by someone with a microphone. Brian tried to move a bit closer to hear what was being said, hoping that he would discover how the game was won, but between the crowd and the noise he could not make out the conversation. This was undoubtedly the most peculiar thing that had ever happened to him.

Brian realized he was standing with a goofy smile on his face watching everyone celebrate and despite applying every effort at his disposal he still had no idea what had occurred. Finally, his gang, Kate, Libby, Siobhán, Maeve and Charlie arrived and immediately took turns hugging and kissing him on the cheeks.

Brian turned a bright shade of crimson and halfheartedly objected, “Ah lads, you’ll get all sweaty and smelly.”

“We don’t care, Bri.Bri…” Libby said saving the biggest and best hug for last. “You were great…just great.”

Looking around at his friends who hemmed him in on all sides he quietly said to Charlie and Kate, “I know this sounds very strange, but I honestly can’t remember what happened in the last five minutes of the match. Please tell me before I lose it completely.”

Kate and Charlie looked at each other in amazement and then back at Brian. Quite apart from the fact that Brian was not the type who would joke about such things, it was clear from his expression that he was quite serious; he really didn’t remember.

Trying to explain further, Brian whispered, “I… I just don’t know… I remember sitting on the stretcher with my knee killing me and seeing the scoreboard when Finbars were up by two and the next thing I knew, everyone was on the pitch celebrating.”

Kate linked her arm on his right side and replied, “You won the game, Brian – all by yourself. You scored three goals and you won the game.”

On his left side, Charlie copied her friend in linking his arm and elaborated. “You jumped up when St. Finbars were making their final substitutions and told the coach that you were ready to play. Then this look came over you like you were in a trance or something and after the restart you took on the entire Finbars team by yourself, dribbling over and around them like they weren’t there. You scored the first goal on a free kick over the wall into the top left corner, you chipped the keeper on the second and you bent the third into the right corner from play. It was absolutely amazing. And you really don’t remember anything.”

Brian looked blankly at his friend, “I promise Charlie, I don’t remember anything. Maybe I was in a trance or something.”

Kate pulled Brian tightly toward her and said, “I don’t think anyone minds that Brian. Everyone is saying that it was the finest display of soccer they have ever seen.”

“But my knee,” Brian protested. “It was killing me when I was on the stretcher and it is still killing me.”

“Maybe it is like mind over matter,” Maeve suggested. “Maybe when you went into the trance you forgot all about the knee.”

“Who cares,” Siobhán offered. “Brian, you were brilliant, the team won the championship and we should celebrate.”

That seemed like a good idea to Brian but as the group walked toward the exit he stopped, “One more thing lads… please don’t say anything to anyone about my not remembering. I feel like a big idiot as it is without everyone else knowing about it.”

The girls promised that it would be their little secret and again began the trek across the pitch. This time their progress was interrupted by the arrival of an official and very harried looking man wearing some sort of earphones and a carrying a clipboard. “Sorry young man,” he said, “but we need you to give a radio interview.”

Brian looked up in surprise and then at his friends before responding, “Me… radio… you must be joking. I’d be so nervous, I’d probably… well I’d be too nervous. Tell them to talk to Jimmie Rice, he’s the captain, or Billy Hagerty, he’s a great talker.”

“I’m sorry young man,” the man replied officiously, “but you will have to do the interview so if you don’t mind following me.”

Brian looked to his friends clearly terrified about giving the interview, particularly as he didn’t even remember the game’s conclusion. In response, Kate stepped between Brian and the man and said, “No, I’m sorry… but perhaps you did not hear or understand Brian. He does not want to give an interview and there is no reason why he should be required to go on the radio. As you can see, Brian’s knee was badly injured and the most important thing is for us to get him home so he can pack the knee in ice. Please tell your supervisors that Mr. O’Sullivan has declined the interview because he prefers to let his play on the pitch speak for him. That is all.”

Retaking Brian’s arm, Kate turned her back on the man who stood in shock, his mouth hanging open. The remainder of the group followed Kate’s lead and reconvened their march toward the exit. Maeve, Siobhán and Charlie were doing their best to squelch the howls of laughter, which they knew would come as soon as the radioman headed back to the presenter. Brian and Libby were looking at Kate in amazement while Kate tossed her head as if what she had done and said was the only possible response and nothing could have been more natural.

Eventually Maeve announced that the radioman was trotting back with the bad news and all the girls began to giggle. “That was great,” Libby said patting her sister on the back. The rest of the girls also marveled at the way she so coolly disposed of the nuisance and Brian expressed his thanks as well.

“Right, I could just see it,” Maeve said with a mischievous grin. “The radio guy goes, so how did you do it, Brian… and Brian goes… do what? And the radio guy goes score those final three goals… and Brian goes what three goals? And the radio guy goes the three goals that won the match… and Brian goes… What match… and the radio guys goes…”

“Enough” Charlie said as the whole group, Brian included, were laughing at not only what Maeve said but her exaggerated portrayal of Brian as sort of a punchdrunk fighter.

Brian looked around at his friends and decided that about the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him was taking Mrs. O’Neil’s advice and making friends with Libby. Now he had five close friends and any number of others who were friends as well.

Just as the group reached the exit, they were joined by Chad who ran up from behind jumping up on Brian’s back. “The knee,” several of the girls shouted in chorus.

“Sorry mate,” Chad replied, “I thought you had shaken off that tackle. Well done, by the way.”