Rugby Rebel, page 2
Eoin felt like exploding, but he had found that it was usually better to walk away any time he felt like that. This was one of those occasions.
‘OK, no worries, Rory, but it’s obvious I’m not going to get much sleep here,’ snapped Eoin as he stormed out the door.
Eoin set off down the stairs at a jog, but he stopped short when he saw Mr Carey, the rugby coach, coming up towards him.
‘Be careful there, Madden,’ the teacher said. ‘You could have sent me flying.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ he replied.
‘I was on my way up to see you. How do you feel about training with the JCT squad this year?’
‘Eh … well, OK, I suppose,’ stammered Eoin.
‘Devin Synnott – he’s the J’s captain – told me he wants you on the team. I’m not sure about that. You’re very young and still a bit raw, but I’m prepared to give you a go until Christmas. They can probably spare you on the Under 14s but you might have to play a few extra games. As you’ve no major exams this year, that shouldn’t be a problem. Are you OK with that?’
Although Eoin had known Devin wanted him to train with the Js, he was still a bit taken aback by Mr Carey’s approach. He hadn’t expected to be called up to train with them so soon and wasn’t at all sure about this development.
‘Of course, yes, OK,’ said Eoin. ‘When do they train?’
‘We start tomorrow for two hours after school, then it’s an hour every day and two on Saturday mornings unless you’ve a match. Sunday is your own. We’ll probably start the pre-school sessions after Christmas.’
Eoin’s mouth opened, but he didn’t know what to say. He just nodded and said thanks before continuing down the stairs and out the front door.
He jogged away to his favourite place in Castlerock, the secluded corner of the woods where a tiny stream bubbled its way down to the sea. There was a large rock he liked to sit on and think; it provided a rare oasis of peace in the bustling boarding school.
The Rock was empty, as it always was. Eoin had never seen anyone down this part of the school, except of course his ghostly friends Brian and Dave, who seemed to be drawn to the place. Eoin wondered about that – was there something about the site that the ghosts liked? It certainly had a very different atmosphere to the rest of the school.
It was a warm evening and Eoin was tired after the exertions and excitement of the day. He sat down on his favourite rock and closed his eyes. It was good to get such time alone. He thought back to the last time he had been there, and …
‘Crack!’
He was brought back to reality by a loud noise that sounded almost like a gunshot.
‘Crack!’
There it was again, even nearer this time. He was sure it was a gunshot this time.
Eoin ran out of the tiny wooded area, terrified. He looked around, but couldn’t work out what had caused the noise. It seemed to come from the side of the school. He turned towards the front of the old, grey school building and ran towards it as fast as his legs would let him.
Once he got to the doorway he paused and looked back, but there was no sign of the gunman. Eoin gulped down breaths, trying to calm himself down after the scary experience. Did I imagine that? he thought. Would Mr McCaffrey think I’m telling lies?
Eoin decided to keep it to himself, and trudged nervously upstairs.
Chapter 5
. . . . . . . .
IF the first night in the dorm was exciting, the same couldn’t really be said for the first day of classes. It might have been a little bit interesting to find out who each of their new teachers would be, but it wasn’t long before the novelty was lost on the boys, especially when so many of the teachers were keen on getting down to work immediately.
‘Remember, this is second year, the start of your Junior Cert cycle,’ said Mr McAllister, the Irish teacher. ‘I’ll have to check out how you’ve all been doing over the last year. We’ll have a little test on Friday.’
The class groaned. They might be back at school, but for many their minds were still at home or away on holiday. It would be hard to focus on an exam in week one – but maybe that was Mr McAllister’s idea.
The first day dragged like a wet Sunday afternoon in February. But Eoin was happy that it did, because he was more than a little nervous about the Js’ training session – and about telling the rest of his team-mates that he wouldn’t be seeing much of them this year.
After the last class was over, Eoin gathered his rugby gear and sauntered out the classroom door.
‘Wait up, Eoin, where you off to?’ asked Rory.
‘I’ve got rugby,’ he replied.
Rory looked puzzled. ‘But they said we wouldn’t be starting up till next week?’
‘Mr Carey wants me to train with the Js,’ he muttered.
The rest of his pals stopped and stared.
‘You can’t be! You’re only in second year – second years never train with the Js,’ said Alan.
‘No, it’s not that rare,’ lied Eoin. ‘And anyway, nothing might come of it. They’ve a half-decent side this year, I think.’
‘But what about the 14s?’ asked Dylan, ‘We’ll be useless without you!’
‘Ah come off it, Richie Duffy can slot in for me, and I can probably play a lot of the games anyway. I better run, you know what Carey can be like if you’re late.’
Eoin trotted over to the changing room, and followed the rest of the players inside. He recognised many of them, but no one said anything to him. He looked around desperately for Devin Synnott, the captain, who didn’t seem to be about.
They’re not a very friendly bunch, are they? he thought to himself.
He put on his kit and wandered outside, where Devin was talking to Mr Carey. Devin was the star of the Js panel, and a year ahead of Eoin.
‘Ah, Eoin, thanks for coming. I was just working out with Mr Carey what we’d do with you. We’ve a big squad this year, but we don’t have much cover at out-half if Ronan goes down. We’re going to play a trial today so we’ll slot you in at inside centre for the first half and switch you with Paudie for the second. Is that OK?’
Eoin nodded and suddenly felt extra nervous. He was big enough for his age, but these guys just looked much bigger than his old team-mates and the other schools they’d played against. He’d have to work on building himself up.
He joined the B selection and slipped on one of the yellow bibs that Mr Carey had dumped on the ground. He introduced himself to the out-half, Paudie, and the scrum-half, Gav, but they just looked at him and shrugged. He wandered into position for the kick-off.
As the trial progressed, Eoin got more into the game, although Paudie didn’t seem too interested in passing the ball to him so he had to seek it out for himself. The standard was a bit higher than Eoin was used to, but not so much that he felt out of place. He got a couple of chances to run, and got his passes away well too.
‘Good display, Madden,’ said Mr Carey at half-time. ‘Switch with Woods and let’s see what you can do at 10.’
Paudie Woods had a face like thunder when he passed Eoin. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, ‘OK, kid, I want plenty of ball this half, and don’t try anything smart.’
The A selection had led by 10 points at half-time, and extended that by another converted try early in the second. They were a comfortably better team than the Bs, as you would expect, but there were a few players on the second string who were trying hard to impress.
One of them was Gav, the scrum-half who seemed to be a mate of Paudie’s, and who appeared to be having a dilemma. He didn’t want Eoin to do well, but if he started throwing wild passes out to Eoin at out-half he himself would look bad, so he decided he’d let Paudie sort out his own problem.
Eoin hadn’t seen much of the ball, and the game was rambling to an inevitable conclusion when Gav came up with one moment of brilliance, chipping the ball behind the As’ defence and taking it beautifully on the bounce before hareing into the 22. He was taken down by the full-back but as he turned to release the ball, Eoin came charging up behind him and caught it cleanly, before he sidestepped the A team centre and dived in under the posts.
It was the only moment of magic in the whole game. Mr Carey seemed more enthused by it after the final whistle than by the comfortable win for the A team.
‘Nice move, Gav! Well backed-up, Eoin,’ grinned Devin, as they shook hands at the end. ‘That’ll give Mr Carey a few headaches!’
Chapter 6
. . . . . . . .
EOIN was happy with how he played – he was sure he had been better than Paudie Woods – but he found it less enjoyable than playing with his friends and knew he wouldn’t be able to take charge of games in the way he used to. The Under 14s were struggling without him, and all their games seemed to clash with JCT training or matches.
The class bully, Richie Duffy, was furious that Eoin has been singled out for promotion as the star of the team – even though with Eoin gone it meant he could play out-half once again. But Eoin was more concerned that Rory and Dylan, particularly, were starting to resent his absence.
‘Look, I’m sorry, guys!’ he tried to explain as they lounged about in the doorway. ‘I’m not too pushed about playing Js this year, but I can’t say that to Carey. And it’s just not in me to play badly.’
‘But can’t you just fake an injury and ask to play a few games on the 14s while you recover?’ asked Rory.
‘Will you listen to yourself?’ laughed Eoin. ‘How could I be injured for one team and play on another?’
‘Well …’
‘Look, I’m probably not even going to get much chance to play so they might work out that it’s better for me to get some game time on the 14s. But I’m not going to wimp out just because you guys think you need me.’
‘Eoin’s right,’ said Alan. ‘You’re going to have stop complaining about it – it’s like you’re already writing the team off because Eoin’s not playing. Sure you might as well give up rugby completely.’
‘Well, I might,’ grumbled Rory.
‘Listen, I haven’t played alongside Eoin since his very first game in sixth class,’ Alan replied. ‘But every week I go out and try to get better and maybe someday I’ll get off the 3rds, and then maybe I’ll burst through the 2nds onto the Js next year. That’s the thing about rugby, about any sport – you’ve got to dream.’
The rest of the guys laughed at Alan, who was easily the worst player in the whole year.
‘Ah, you’re right, Al,’ said Rory. ‘It’s just that it’s not nearly as much crack when you’re losing all the time.’
Dylan shrugged and looked at Eoin. ‘What’s the chances of me or Rory getting called up for that JCT squad?’ he asked.
‘I dunno.’ Eoin replied, ‘They have a couple of decent left-wingers, but I’d say Carey will keep his eye on you. The two guys who play scrum-half are excellent though. It will be hard to break in there … sorry,’ he told Rory.
‘No need to apologise, I know who they are – and you’re right,’ Rory replied. ‘My day will come.’
‘Anyway, what else is happening? I’m getting bored with sleep-school-rugby-sleep,’ said Eoin.
‘Not much,’ said Alan. ‘Though I met Mr Finn and he was still talking about the trip to Belgium. He was wondering where you were going to bring us this year.’
Eoin groaned. ‘Oh no, I hope he doesn’t want us to enter the Young Historian again. It was great to win it, but there was too much stress involved. I’ve enough on my plate with the rugby too.’
‘Fair enough, it’s a huge amount of work. But he told me to tell you he would see you on Friday – he’s bringing us out for the morning on a tour to Kilmainham Jail.’
‘You’d better be careful they don’t keep you, Dyl,’ laughed Rory, who got a rugby boot in the shoulder for his trouble.
‘Owww, that hurt,’ whined Rory.
‘Well keep your nasty digs to yourself then,’ snarled Dylan as he stormed out. ‘That wasn’t funny.’
Eoin glared at Rory. ‘What did you bring that up for? Dylan is NOT his father. He’s a good lad and it’s not his fault his father’s in prison. Don’t keep going on about it or you’ll have to deal with dodging flying boots from me too.’
Chapter 7
. . . . . . . .
MR FINN had taught history for forty years at Castlerock, and he still helped out in his retirement. He was an old, great friend of Eoin’s grandfather and had been very kind to Eoin in his first year at the school.
He stood at the top of the classroom where the boys were abuzz with the novelty of getting out of school for a few precious hours.
‘OK, boys, settle down for a minute,’ he started. ‘I just want to tell you about the place we are visiting today. It’s the famous old prison where the 1916 rebel leaders were executed, and you will see and hear a lot of interesting things about Irish history when you are there. I want you all on your best behaviour and to remember you are representing Castlerock.
‘We will be leaving in the coach in ten minutes and it should take us no more than half an hour to get there. If anyone wants to use the bathroom, go now. And if any one of the rest of you has any questions, please ask them now.’
None of the boys were in a hurry to find out any more about Kilmainham Jail than was strictly necessary, so Mr Finn decided to fire a question back at them.
‘OK, then, can anyone tell me which schools rugby player was executed in another prison on the north side of Dublin?’
He stared down at row after row of blank faces.
‘A hint: he played for Belvedere.’
Still nothing.
‘OK, one last hint, he had a famous song written about him.’
‘Eh, was it Jesse James?’ asked Pearse Hickey.
‘No,’ sighed Mr Finn. ‘Although he wasn’t executed in Kilmainham, I’m sure the tour guide could tell you all about this man if you tell him how interested you all are in rugby. Listen carefully, because you’ll be studying this period for your exams next year.’
The bus ride across the city was slower than Mr Finn had expected. The traffic clogged up the streets and Eoin watched as cyclists, and even pedestrians, went sailing past.
They eventually reached the old prison, which hadn’t held anyone since 1924. Its grey, grimy stone walls were anything but welcoming, and the carving over the main door of five snakes bound in chains signalled its old role as a place where wrong-doers would be locked out of the public’s way.
Eoin’s interest in history had been stoked by his contest win the previous year and he knew all about the decade of rebellion and bloodshed that led up to Irish independence. He had read about the 1916 Rising and was intrigued that they would be visiting where they rebels met their deaths.
The old prison was even less inviting inside than it had been on the outside, and the boys were glad they had worn their coats. The guide warned them to watch their step as the flagstones on the floor were uneven in places.
He also told them that Kilmainham was designed as a more modern, humane prison than the others at the time it was built, but Eoin couldn’t imagine what they were thinking by installing such big barred windows. They might have allowed in more air and light, but they also let in more wind and rain, and there was a lot of that in Dublin.
‘Grim place, isn’t it?’ said Dylan, staring at his feet.
‘Yeah,’ replied Eoin. ‘I’d hate to spend even one night here.’
Dylan looked up at him. ‘Yeah, can you imagine spending a few years locked up?’
Eoin looked at his pal and realised just what he was thinking; Dylan’s father was in prison for serious crimes, one of which was the kidnap of Eoin and Caoimhe, Dylan’s sister, at the previous year’s schools’ cup final.
‘I’m sure modern prisons are a bit more comfortable. But I suppose losing your freedom must be terrible,’ replied Eoin.
The boys followed at the back of the tour party, listening to tales of the prison’s past. The tour finished outside in what the guide called the Stone Breakers’ Yard. Surrounded by high, stone walls, in one corner stood a small, black cross. The guide led the boys over towards it, but kept a respectful distance.
‘This is where the executions took place. In one week in May 1916, two or three each day, fourteen men were led here and shot.’ He explained how one, James Connolly, had to be propped up in a chair due to his c and illness. And he explained how these weren’t the only men whose lives had ended there.
Standing in the cold prison yard as the guide spoke to them really brought the history alive for the boys – Eoin felt he could almost imagine how it would have felt to stand, waiting for the firing squad … they looked at each other nervously.
‘Capital punishment – the death penalty – was the sentence for many crimes two hundred years ago, but we don’t execute people any more in this country. During the various rebellions this was where many men spent their last night on earth, from the Fenians, to the War of Independence to the Civil War,’ he told them.
‘These boys play rugby in school,’ Mr Finn told the guide. ‘Could you tell them about another rugby player who was executed in those years, just a few miles up the road?’
‘Of course, and I presume you mean Kevin Barry?’ he replied. ‘Kevin Barry was a medical student at UCD who took part in a raid on a bread van bringing supplies to the British Army in 1920. It went wrong and he was caught and executed in the gallows room in Mountjoy Jail.
‘The most famous picture of him is of him wearing a rugby shirt – he went to Belvedere College.’
‘Thank you very much,’ said Mr Finn. ‘That was a most informative tour and I’m sure it has stirred up even more interest in our history among the boys.’
The boys were quiet as they left – even Dylan wasn’t chatting and jumping about; Irish history suddenly felt very recent and real to them all.
Chapter 8
. . . . . . . .
MR Carey came to the common room to tell Eoin that he had been picked on the replacements bench for the JCT’s first friendly on Wednesday.
