Football Spirit, page 1
Praise for Gerard Siggins’ books
‘Superbly written … well worth a read … Perfect for any sports mad youngster’
Irish Mail on Sunday
‘Brimming with action and mystery’
Children’s Books Ireland
‘A brilliant read’
Sunday World
Dedication
To my uncle, David Siggins, the best footballer in the family – ever!
Acknowledgements
I first came across the story of Liam Whelan when my dad showed me his grave in Glasnevin Cemetery. Liam – or Billy as they called him in Manchester – was a tantalising story of what could have been, and it is an honour to bring it to you.
This is the ninth Eoin Madden adventure, and his first involving football.
Thanks to my brilliant editor Helen Carr for helping me bring him to life once again.
And thanks of course to Martha, Jack, Lucy and Billy for all their support, and to Mam and Dad for everything.
Hope you’ve found a good spot on the eternal terraces, Dad, with a perfect view of every game you ever want to see.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
About the Author
Other Books
Copyright
Chapter 1
‘So, what do you think about this Transistor Year?’ asked Dixie.
‘It’s Transition Year,’ replied Eoin with a chuckle. He was never quite sure when his grandfather was being serious. ‘It’s what we do in school after the Junior Cert. We have a year with only a few lessons and lots of activities – canoeing, hill walking and the like. It should be fun.’
‘Fun?’ replied the old man. ‘When I was a youngster, we had one day off for the school tour, when they brought us to the zoo, or a factory. The rest of the time we were stuck into our books.’
‘Well, I suppose of lot of what we do will be educational,’ replied Eoin. ‘We’ll be learning useful skills and things that will help us decide on a career. We could learn how to be a coach, or how to cook, or even learn how to dance.’
Dixie cracked a thin smile. ‘Dancing? Ah, now listen, Eoin. That’s the stuff you do on a Saturday night when you’re older, not on a Monday morning when you would be better off doing double Maths.’
Eoin laughed while he carried his cup over to the sink.
‘Thanks for the tea, Grandad; I better get back to my packing.’
‘Ah, last-minute Larry, like your father,’ chuckled the old man, as he followed Eoin out to the front door. ‘Here’s something for a few sweets, or a new rugby jersey,’ he added as he tucked a fifty euro note into the back pocket of Eoin’s jeans.
‘Thanks, Grandad,’ Eoin replied. ‘I got plenty of new rugby shirts this summer, though – maybe I’ll put that towards a pair of shiny dancing shoes!’
The old man’s mouth opened wide, but he was left speechless – and now it was Eoin’s turn to laugh as he set off at jogging pace to his home on the other side of Ormondstown.
He called into his friend Dylan’s house to make arrangements for the trip to Dublin. Eoin’s dad had offered to drive them up to the city, but the boys decided they would make the day into a bit of an adventure and travel on their own.
‘Don’t be late for the bus, Dyl,’ Eoin stressed to his pal. ‘We’ll be waiting two hours for the next one – and that will play havoc with your planned trip to that Alabama Fried Chicken place.’
‘I’ll be here, don’t worry. Just trying to pack all I can carry rather than all I will need. I’m starting to have second thoughts about turning down that lift.’
Eoin laughed. ‘Well, we don’t have to worry about hauling our rugby gear along. They never pick TY boys for the senior panel.’
‘Maybe,’ replied Dylan. ‘But they never had a British and Irish Lions star to pick before.’
Chapter 2
Eoin raced home, where his mother was waiting for him with a suitcase, tightly packed and wrapped around with a leather belt. Luckily, he had brought up most of his stuff before the term had started.
‘Ah, Mam, you didn’t have to do that. Are you sure you have packed everything that I left out to bring?’
‘I have of course,’ she said with a smile. ‘I even remembered that you won’t be playing rugby.’ She pointed to the small pile of kitbags in the corner. ‘We’ll have to sort out what you want to keep when you get home next.’
Eoin was actually relieved to be giving rugby a break. He had been very busy last year and playing for Ireland and Leinster as well as Castlerock College pushed him to breaking point. He’d spent the first half of the summer in New Zealand with the Lion Cubs so it was a relief to wind down with his pals playing hurling.
And by the time it came to go back to school he still wasn’t missing rugby.
He was able to cope with the physical side – although some of those hits he took in New Zealand had rattled his bones – but he had always been uncomfortable with the attention that came with being the star. Playing out-half meant he was always the focus of both opponents and his own team, but the better he got as a player the more attention he got off the field too. At first he enjoyed the way the first-year kids would ask him for his autograph, or point him out in the queue for the canteen, but now he hated it.
The past few months had seen his name appearing on both the front and back pages of the newspapers. But averting a disaster in both the Aviva Stadium and Croke Park, and becoming a match-winner on both sides of the world would only bring more attention on his shoulders. He was really keen to have a quiet, anonymous Transition Year.
He sorted through his pile of kit, putting aside those he wanted to keep as souvenirs and those he would pass on to the charity shop. The local branch sent on sports shirts to countries in the developing world, and it made him smile to think of a kid in Africa or somewhere playing football wearing his Leinster or Castlerock shirts.
He kept the Ireland ones though, and the beautiful all-black shirt he had swapped for a Lion Cubs No.10 down in New Zealand. He knew that someday he would have that put in a frame.
He took one of the kit bags and selected a couple of pairs of runners for his regular jogs around the school grounds. He tossed in a couple of shirts and pairs of shorts too, and as he went to zip up the holdall, he stopped and reached for a pair of boots.
‘Who knows, I might fancy a run out at some stage,’ he said to himself. ‘Better to have these to hand than have to borrow a pair.’
And so, packing completed, he wandered downstairs to say goodbye to his parents.
Chapter 3
Eoin’s dad dropped him down to the bus-stop where there were just a couple of people waiting. They chatted for a minute or two and Mr Madden took a couple of banknotes from his wallet.
‘That should keep you in chocolate for a few weeks,’ he said with a grin. ‘Though I suppose you probably have hundreds of euro stashed away after your summer job.’
Eoin returned the grin. ‘No chocolate for me. I’m keeping that for a rainy day. Might be a nice school tour this year.’
They were making their farewells just as the bus came around the bend. Racing alongside it was Dylan, with a small suitcase under one arm and a huge gear bag over the other shoulder.
‘Tell him to wait,’ his friend roared, as he dropped the case.
Eoin was slow getting on board the coach, allowing Dylan just enough time to catch up and make it up the steps before the doors wheezed shut.
Having paid the driver, Dylan slumped down beside Eoin still struggling to recapture his breath.
‘Sorry… ’bout that…’ he gasped. ‘Mam was… ironing…’
‘You’re grand, don’t worry,’ Eoin replied. ‘Sure, we’re here now and on the way.’
Time flew by for the boys as the bus sped through the midlands towards Dublin. The bus stopped in Portlaoise and among the new passengers was Ross Finnegan, a sixth year in Castlerock.
‘Hey there, Madden,’ he called out as he inched down the aisle. ‘Any spare seats?’
Eoin directed him to one, three seats behind him. Once Ross got settled, he came up to see his schoolmates.
‘Fair play to you,’ he
Eoin shrugged. ‘Yeah, cheers,’ he replied.
‘You’re in TY now?’ he said. ‘I doubt they’ll pick you for the senior squad though. We’ve never had a fourth year on the seniors since Dixie Madden.’
Eoin’s grandfather had been a star rugby player at their school and could have played for Ireland.
‘Yeah, I reckoned that,’ Eoin replied. ‘But I’m happy enough taking a year out of rugby and grow a few inches before I start playing against lads your size.’
‘Yeah, you are a bit on the small side, I suppose,’ Ross replied with a grin as he towered above Eoin. ‘And you won’t get much bigger on the food they feed us up in Castlerock.’
‘I played a bit of GAA over the summer,’ said Eoin. ‘Do you think they’d let us get a team together?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Ross. ‘They really have a downer on that in Castlerock. They’d even let you play soccer ahead of Gaelic.’
Ross went back to his seat and Eoin closed his eyes, his mind wandering back to his exciting summer and the drama of revisiting Bloody Sunday in Croke Park. School would almost seem like a break after all that, he thought.
Chapter 4
Eoin enjoyed the less demanding schedule of Transition Year. There were loads of new subjects, such as design, cookery and engineering, as well as the usual stuff he had been doing since he was five years old. But without a major exam at the end of the year he could enjoy learning for its own sake.
And there was lots of outdoor, active stuff. They were all signed up for a yoga session for the first period every Monday, and Eoin found it extremely useful in understanding how his muscles worked and he found he was starting to become more flexible – which would be useful when he finally returned to rugby.
That first evening back the classmates all met up in the dining hall and filled each other in on their summer activities. Everyone had followed Eoin’s adventures in New Zealand so he was happy not to have too many questions about the tour.
‘Those Kiwis looked very tough,’ said Charlie Bermingham.
Eoin shrugged. ‘They’re big lads, right enough – but there were a few big lads on the Carrick team we played in hurling later in the summer too.’
There were some new faces in the year, and Eoin and Alan invited them to join them. Sam was from England so he had to have hurling explained to him, and Ernesto was from Uruguay in South America.
‘Do you know Lionel Messi?’ asked Ferdia, getting his geography very wrong.
The boys were very enthusiastic about the school programme for the year ahead. There was a good mix of activities and academic work – Eoin was really keen on learning a bit about Ancient Greece and Rome – but the range of new sports was what got the boys talking.
Later, as Eoin and Alan went for a walk around the school grounds, he mentioned his decision to take a year out of rugby which left Alan a little dismayed.
‘Ah no, Eoin, you can’t just give up rugby,’ he told him.
‘I’m not giving it up,’ Eoin replied. ‘I just want to take a break – everyone else in the year is getting a break from the boring day to day of school. Why can’t I? And anyway they never pick TY lads on the Senior Cup team. Especially scrawny little ones.’
‘But… but you’re the best player we’ve had in the school EVER – well, at least since Dixie.’
‘That’s rubbish, Alan, and you know it. I’m still a kid and rugby’s a lot harder and tougher when you get to the SCT.’
‘Can’t you just keep up training with them?’
‘No. I want to take a break – with the tours and everything I’ve been playing non-stop for about two years. If I’m as good as you think I am I’ll be able to take it up again, surely.’
Alan frowned. ‘But…’
Eoin grinned back at him as they crossed the road towards the area known as The Rock. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’ve worked out loads of great tactics and moves for me and have no one to try them out on?’
Alan smiled back. A keen analyst of rugby, he had indeed been spending a lot of time coming up with various manoeuvres Eoin could experiment with during matches. One or two had proved highly successful.
‘Well, you had no complaints when I won that Lions series for you – and the Four Nations,’ Alan replied.
Eoin laughed. ‘Ah, now Alan, you’ve got to be joking. I’m grateful for that song you wrote, and working out what we had to do in the last match of the Four Nations, but you can’t say you ‘won’ those things for me.’
Alan grinned, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s just I’m going to miss the rugby, especially after doing a course on it over the summer.’
They pulled aside the bushes to get through to the quietest part of the school grounds, where Eoin often went for some peace.
‘Well, nobody’s stopping you staying involved in rugby – but how are you on soccer?’ asked Eoin. ‘I’m thinking of giving that a go if they won’t let me start a Gaelic team. I’d say I could easily find ten or fifteen lads who’d be up for playing a few games.’
Chapter 5
Eoin leaned back against the Rock, a huge boulder beside the stream that ran along the outer wall of Castlerock College.
‘It is good to be back in this old place, though, isn’t it?’ he said to Alan.
‘I suppose so, but it’s a bit of weird year without proper classes. Yoga’s a bit of crack, and I’ve asked can I do a rugby coaching course as part of my program.’
‘Nice one, they’ll probably have you back here as a teacher when you’re finished Uni so,’ Eoin said with a grin.
‘Dylan looks a bit uncomfortable with playing basketball,’ said Alan with a grin, ‘I don’t think he’s quite built for it.’
‘Alright, take it easy, just because you grew four centimetres over the summer. Dylan will always be a titch, he’s nearly the same height as his mother.’
‘Maybe I could give him a lift, like a line-out jumper?’ wondered Alan.
Eoin closed his eyes and lay back on the rock, enjoying a moment’s rest in a busy day. He was almost instantly interrupted by Alan.
‘Ah, Brian, you gave me a fright,’ Alan said. ‘Though, I suppose that is what ghosts are supposed to do.’
Eoin opened his eyes and jumped off the rock, delighted at the arrival.
‘Brian!’ he called, ‘I haven’t seen you since the day of the final in Croke Park. Where have you been?’
‘Oh, around and about,’ the new arrival replied. ‘I was down at Lansdowne Road for a while, checking out the workmen fixing up the stadium. And then I came out here to see what was happening.’
‘And found nothing much I suppose?’ said Alan, with a grin.
‘I’m not sure about that,’ said Brian, who was the ghost of a rugby player who died after being injured playing in Lansdowne Road almost a hundred years ago. He had proved to be a great friend to Eoin over several years in school, especially for giving him sound advice about rugby.
‘There seems a bit of a buzz around the place,’ Brian added. ‘I heard a couple of people talking about you and the Lions…’
Eoin blushed. ‘Ah, it wasn’t really the Lions – they called them the Cubs. But yeah, it was a bit of a laugh.’
Brian frowned. ‘Well, I’m not sure there will be much laughing. I only ever seem to appear when there’s trouble brewing, not that I’m much able to help. Just be careful lads – and keep your eye out for anything that’s a bit different.’
‘Different?’ asked Alan. ‘Sure, everything is different this year – we’re doing classes in basketball, cooking and yoga. How different can you get?’
Brian looked puzzled, and Eoin laughed before explaining what happened in Transition Year in schools these days.
Brian looked even more puzzled when he finished talking.
‘And they call that school?’ he asked. ‘My old school’s idea of a break from the books was Thursday morning when we had a half hour run around the rugby field, no matter what the weather.’
