Tiger Boots

For all my readers, with humble thanks!

I can't believe we're at book three in the Danny Wilde series. In Danny's words, it's been ‘savage' to write another book about all the gang from Littlestown.

A big thanks to all the readers who have sent me kind letters of support and enthusiasm. Please keep them coming!

Once again, I've written lots of fast football action along with plenty of humour and good fun with Danny and his pals, but there are some serious storylines too.

I hope you enjoy reading Tiger Boots as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Joe O'Brien

A huge thanks to everyone at The O’Brien Press for all their support and hard work, especially to Helen Carr, my editor; Emma Byrne, for the wonderful book design; Ruth Heneghan for all her hard work promoting the books; Ivan O’Brien, Brenda Boyne and all the sales team for their support and hard work. Special thanks to Mary Webb (Editorial Director) for her continued encouragement and support and, of course, to Michael O’Brien, Publisher.

Sincere thanks to all the supportive booksellers and librarians, enthusiastic teachers and all who dedicate so much of their time to the world of books.

Finally, my biggest thanks go to my wife, Mandy, and my son, Jamie, for their unconditional support, encouragement and love.

‘G
o on, Danny!’ yelled Jimmy, as Danny Wilde, captain of Littlestown Crokes GAA team, went on a solo.

It was the second half of the home game against Darnville and Danny was playing a cracker of a game. Jimmy, the Crokes assistant coach, was cheering them from the sidelines of their home ground, the Little Croker.

The Crokes were leading by a single point; Darnville had started the second half with a fast pace and had just scored three brilliant points. The Crokes had yet to score in the second half, but Danny was about to change all that.

Jonathon, Danny’s cousin and fellow midfielder, called for a pass as he had lost his marker. Danny looked up and swerved a magnificent pass across the middle of the Little
Croker, straight into Jonathon’s hands.

The Crokes’ number eight then fisted the ball to Paul Kiely, Crokes’ right half forward, who lobbed a high ball deep into the Darnville defence.

The ball bounced in front of Crokes’ full forward, Doyler, who managed to palm it away from his marker and into the path of Todd Bailey, his centre half forward.

‘Todd!’ yelled Danny as he ran into a space to Todd’s left.

With lightning instinct, Todd fisted the ball over the now exhausted Darnville midfielder who had followed Danny upfield.

Danny caught Todd’s pass and, as his marker and the Darnville centre halfback closed in on him, Danny shimmied spectacularly around both players, leaving them eating turf.

Danny then fisted the ball over the Darnville full back and sprinted around him, but the Darnville goal keeper lunged out and just as it looked like he would punch the ball away from goal to safety, Danny Wilde twisted his body
around as he leapt into the air and fisted the ball over the Darnville keeper, sending it crashing into the net.

GOAL!

Splinter, Danny’s best friend and Crokes’ left full forward, jumped on Danny’s back.

‘Ya mad thing, ya, Danny!’

Mick Wilde (Danny’s dad and the team’s coach) and Jimmy were jumping up and down on the line.

Mick was always happy when his son scored, but it was even more important to him that his whole team played well, and at the moment, the Crokes were playing fantastic football. They were on a winning streak in the second half of the season and Mick knew that if they could keep it up, they would have a good chance of finishing close to the top of the league table.

The Darnville keeper fluffed his kick out and Todd Bailey pulled off a supreme pick up then sent the ball over the bar. There was no stopping the Crokes now. Darnville’s heads
dropped and that added fuel to the fire that powered Danny Wilde’s team’s engine into super-drive.

Crokes hardly let their opponents out of their own half for the rest of the game, which allowed the Littlestown team to score another two points before the referee blew his full-time whistle.

It was a far cry from the early game in the season when Darnville had beaten the Crokes on their grounds, across town in Darnville.

This game ended with a score of 1-9 to 0-5. Two more points in the bag for Mick’s team!

M
ick Wilde always took mental notes from every game. He didn’t need a notebook and pen – everything was stored in his football brain.

For Mick, there was one very positive thing that stuck out in the game against Darnville – the way the build up to Danny’s wonderful goal had comprised excellent hand passing between his players.

When Mick gathered his players together at the next Thursday’s training, he made sure that they all knew the importance of hand passing in the game of GAA.

Jimmy had just completed a few laps around the outer railing of the park. The roads along the park were well lit and the council had constructed a new foot path all the way around
the inner boundary of the park. It created an excellent running track for Jimmy to keep his players super fit.

‘Sit down boys and have a breather.’ Mick smiled as he looked over toward Jimmy, who had already collapsed on the grass.

‘Are we going to have a game of ball, Mick?’ asked Paddy Timmons, Crokes’ right corner full back.

‘In a minute, Paddy.’

Mick gave everyone a few minutes to compose themselves. It was a long way around the park – in fact, it was much longer than Jimmy had imagined when they set out.

Mick took a football to hand, then took one look at his players, and fisted the ball right into the middle of the front row.

Jonathon caught the ball.

‘Good catch, Jonathon,’ Mick said. ‘Hand passing,’ he went on, ‘I can’t emphasise enough the significance of the skill of hand passing, and it is a skill. If you can perfect this skill, boys, then you will always have an edge on your
opponent. It was a run of brilliant hand passes that led to Danny’s goal against Darnville, and the goal itself was fisted in with the hand.’

All Danny’s teammates grinned over at him. They appreciated how lucky they were to have such a talented player on the team.

‘Everyone on their feet,’ instructed Mick.

Poor Jimmy was last up. He had a cramp in his right leg, so Mick told him to walk it off.

‘We’re going to have a small match now, lads,’ said Mick. ‘And I want yiz all practising your hand passes.’

Mick set up a small pitch with some cones and gave the boys twenty minutes of football. He made up a few special rules for the game. Everyone had to hand pass every second pass they made with the ball.

Practice makes perfect and Mick was a master when it came to perfecting the game of Gaelic football.

T
he next morning, Danny and Splinter were having a kick about at break in the schoolyard when Todd Bailey and Billy Stapleton walked over to them.

‘Pass, Danny, pass!' shouted Todd, with both hands ready to catch the ball.

Danny still had the previous night's training in his mind and remembered the talk his father had given the team about the importance of hand passing. Danny fisted the ball to Todd who caught it with ease.

‘Nice one, mate,' said Todd. ‘Here, Billy, catch!'

Todd palmed the ball to Billy, forgetting that Billy Stapleton was no better at football than his horse, Vinny.

Billy caught the ball all right – right in the
snot!

Splinter let out a howl.

‘You're after bursting his nose!'

Poor Billy's legs almost went from under him as he took his hands away from his face and noticed they were covered in blood.

Just then, Principal Dunstan crept up behind the boys. He arrived so suddenly that it was as if he had appeared out of thin air.

‘What's going on here, boys?'

Todd turned to the principal.

‘I didn't mean it, sir. It was an accident.'

Danny backed him up.

‘Yeah, sir, we were only playing.'

‘Yeah!' Splinter added.

Principal Dunstan put his hand on Billy's forehead.

‘Pinch your nose, Billy. It's not that bad. Get yourself off to the toilets and wash yourself. It won't look as bad then.'

Then he turned to the others.

‘You boys better go with him. He's a bit pale.'

Billy did just as the principal had advised and when he looked up at the mirror after rinsing his face, he was horrified with what he saw.

Danny, Splinter and Todd burst out laughing.

‘It's not funny!' protested Billy. ‘My nose is huge!'

It reminded Billy of the very first and last time he'd stepped into a boxing ring; his uncle had encouraged him to take up boxing, and his first practice session had been against Hammer Hughes who was two years older, ten inches taller and thirty-one pounds heavier than him. Hammer had landed a five finger sandwich on Billy's nose and it had ballooned up just the same way.

When Billy told this story to the lads, it only made them laugh even louder.

Danny was in stitches.

‘Ah well, Billy. At least you won't have to put a mask on for Halloween next week.'

‘Yeah!' added Todd. ‘Ya look like an ogre.'

‘Yeah. A bit of green paint and a shaved head and you could be Shrek,' said Splinter.

‘Get lost; ya muppet,' Billy said. He was beginning to see the humour in it all. ‘I don't have mad looking ears.'

All of a sudden, the laughing stopped and the subject changed in an instant; Splinter suddenly felt the urge to share a dream he had the night before.

‘I had a strange dream last night that my ears kept growing and growing.'

Danny, Billy and Todd just stared at Splinter.

‘Have you been eating the blue smarties again, Splinter?' Danny joked.

‘I'm telling you, lads, it was mental. I thought my ears were going to explode. I could hear noises getting louder and louder.'

‘Then what?' asked Todd.

Splinter went a bit red.

‘I woke up and my ma was standing over me screaming her head off. I'd had fallen asleep while watching my telly with my ear phones plugged in and turned over halfway through the night, and I accidentally pulled the ear phones out of the socket and the telly woke the
whole house up.'

‘Ya space cadet, Splinter,' Todd joked.

‘It's not funny,' said Splinter. ‘My ma nearly had a heart attack and I thought she was going to kill me.'

Splinter's story got the others talking about dreams too – strange dreams.

Billy told them about the time he dreamt that he and his horse, Vinny, were winning the Grand National and with just one jump to go, it all went weird.

‘I tucked in tight to Vinny's neck to get him to jump real high,' said Billy, explaining that the last jump was the biggest jump, psychologically. (He actually said ‘physicologically', but the lads knew what he was trying to say.)

‘What happened next?' asked Danny. They were all intrigued. Billy was a complex character, so they knew that there was going to be something really out of the ordinary coming up next.

And they were right. Billy looked up towards
the window as if to let his mind drift beyond the school toilets.

‘We jumped and I remember thinking to myself that we were an awful long time in the air. You see lads, I always close my eyes when Vinny does a jump. It's a habit.'

‘Are you telling me you've had this dream before?' asked Splinter.

Billy turned around and wiped a little trickle of blood from his upper lip.

‘Nearly every night,' said Billy. He smiled, and went on, ‘It's all I ever dream of.'

Danny knew were Billy was coming from because all he ever seemed to dream about was playing for the Dubs and lifting the Sam Maguire over his head.

‘Go on, Billy,' encouraged Todd. ‘What happened next, mate?'

Billy continued.

‘Normally it's a deadly jump and we go on and win the National.'

‘Did yiz fall, Billy?' asked Danny.

‘I wish,' said Billy. This answer confused
them.

‘What d'ya mean?' asked Todd.

Billy began to explain.

‘When I opened me eyes, we weren't even in the race.'

‘Where were yiz?' asked Splinter.

‘We were in Disneyland and Vinny was one of the horses in the carousel and he kept chewing a boy's coat that was sitting on an elephant in front of us and I thought I was going to puke because I hate carousels and then—'

‘Enough!' yelled Splinter. ‘You're doing my head in. You're stone mad, Billy.'

‘What about you, Todd?' asked Danny. ‘Do you ever have any strange dreams?'

Todd quickly delivered an assertive, ‘Nah, Mate! We Aussies are totally boring compared to Irish people.'

‘What about you Danny?' asked Billy.

Before Danny had a chance to speak, Splinter answered on his behalf.

‘Danny only ever dreams about one thing,
and that's playing for the Dubs. Isn't that right, Danny?' Splinter asked.

Danny smiled and nodded.

‘Usually,' said Danny. ‘But I had a dream the other night and it had nothing to do with football. Well, very little to do with it, anyway.'

‘Was it weird, Danny?' asked Billy.

Danny shook his head and laughed.

‘I'm not mad like you and Splinter. It was just different. I was on a big aeroplane with my da.'

‘Where were you going Danny?' asked Splinter.

‘I'm not sure,' Danny answered, trying hard to remember more.

‘I just remember dead clearly that I had packed my signed Dubs' jersey, and that was weird. I suppose because that never leaves the wall in my room.'

Todd had a thought on this.

‘If it never leaves your room Danny, then maybe it wasn't a holiday. Maybe you were leaving Ireland for good.'

‘Yeah,' agreed Billy. ‘Todd's right.'

Splinter changed the subject.

‘A few more hours, lads and we've a whole week off. Any special plans?'

Before anyone had a chance to answer, the school bell rang and Principal Dunstan's head peeped inside the door.

‘Come on, lads. Back to class. How's the face, Billy?'

‘Fine, sir,' answered Billy, and he scurried out of the toilets after the others.