Rugby Rebel, page 6
Eoin was put at full back and made a couple of tackles and one good catch under a garryowen, but that was all he saw of the play in twenty minutes on the field.
Devin sought him out after training, laying his arm across Eoin’s shoulder and telling him to stay focused, that his time was coming.
‘Thanks,’ Eoin shrugged, ‘but I’d probably be better off playing the rest of the season on the 14s.’
‘No you wouldn’t,’ insisted Devin. ‘This is a lot tougher, better training, more competitive games. You don’t realise it now, but you’re becoming a better player every day. Stick at it, you’ll get your chance. I’m certain of it.’
The following weekend Eoin and Dylan went home to Ormondstown. Because they had both turned fourteen their parents decided they could travel on the bus, as long as they stayed together. It was quite an adventure for the pair – their new independence was very exciting.
‘Any plans for the weekend?’ Dylan asked.
‘Eat, sleep and watch some TV that doesn’t involve sharing the remote with sixty other people,’ Eoin laughed.
‘Yeah, I’m wrecked. Need some home cooking and nothing much else. Catch you around the town maybe?’
‘Yeah, maybe a bag of chips tomorrow, say six o’clock?’
Eoin’s dad was there at the bus-stop, and he dropped Dylan home too. Caoimhe waved at them from the window.
Eoin had the lazy weekend he had hoped for, tucking into shepherd’s pie and roast beef and enjoying the simple pleasures of being home with his mum and dad. He called around to see Dixie, too, and naturally asked his grandfather had he heard of Kevin Barry.
‘Sure I did, indeed. Your grandmother used to sing a ballad about him. “Just a lad of eighteen summers…”’ he sang.
‘I’m doing a project about him,’ Eoin said. ‘And as you were so useful last year…’
‘Ha! Now, don’t say that. Your hard work won that competition for you. But to be honest, I don’t know much about him. He played a bit of rugby, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, for Belvo,’ Eoin replied. ‘He was from Carlow originally.’
‘Ah, yes.’ said Dixie, ‘I met a man once who knew him from down there. Said he was a quiet fellow, a serious type.’
‘Still is,’ said Eoin, before he realised what he had said.
Dixie looked at Eoin strangely.
‘I mean, I mean … he still was when he was up in Dublin,’ said Eoin. ‘I found a book about him that said that too.’
‘Well, that book should help you write your project then,’ said Dixie. ‘They were terrible times he lived through. He wouldn’t have been much older than yourself when he joined the rebels. Some people thought Ireland wouldn’t win its independence without a fight, others preferred to do it through politics. In the end it took a bit of both, but it took many years to heal the scars of those times. A lot of mothers buried their sons – on all sides.’
Eoin told his grandad about the rugby season so far, and how he had spent more time watching the games than playing in them.
‘It’s funny,’ said his grandad, ‘when I played there was no such thing as replacements. Back then they brought them in for injuries only. Nowadays it seems as if it’s a twenty-three man game. I get a bit confused watching on television sometimes.’
Eoin laughed ‘But don’t get disheartened,’ continued his grandfather. ‘I’m sure your coach knows what’s best for the team, which means he’ll have you right in his sights. Keep working at your skills and you’ll be in a good position when you are called upon.’
Eoin thanked his grandad for the advice and made his farewells. ‘I have to go meet Dylan,’ he explained. ‘But I’ll see you before we go back to Castlerock.’
Chapter 20
. . . . . . . . .
EOIN jogged down to Schillaci’s, where Dylan was already tucking into a bag of chips.
‘Here, Eoin, I’ve got loads and I won’t finish them. I’ll share them with you,’ he offered.
‘Thanks, Dyl. I don’t think I could eat them either. I’ve done nothing but eat since I got home.’
‘Same here,’ answered Dylan. ‘Mam thinks I’ve lost a load of weight. I wouldn’t be surprised with what they serve up to us most days in school.’
‘Ah, it’s not that bad,’ said Eoin.
‘C’mere,’ said Dylan, ‘I laughed meself sick this morning over you.’
‘Why?’ wondered Eoin.
‘Well, you know Caoimhe is mad into making scrapbooks? She has one for Disney characters, and one for pop stars? Well she’s only gone and started one for – Eoin Madden!’
‘Whaaaaat?’ said, Eoin, blushing, ‘that’s a bit weird.’
‘I know, I know,’ laughed Dylan. ‘She said she was starting it for my rugby career – well my one game in the Aviva anyway – but I got a look at it yesterday and she’s been putting in all your scores and reports – and she’s got nothing on the Under 14s!’
‘That’s very nice of her. I never bothered to do that myself,’ Eoin said.
‘Well, she wants you to call up and sign the cover for her. She’s terrified you’re going to get famous and never come back to Ormondstown. You’re the only celebrity she knows.’
Eoin laughed and snatched the bag containing the remainder of the chips from Dylan’s hands.
‘You snooze, you lose,’ he grinned, taking off down the street at a pace he knew Dylan’s shorter legs couldn’t match.
Eoin zigzagged around the passers-by before hiding behind the statue of a long-dead patriot while Dylan caught up. He spent the time guzzling the last of the chips.
‘Eoin … you brat … don’t do that … again,’ puffed Dylan when he finally arrived.
‘If you hadn’t eaten so many chips you’d have caught me,’ laughed Eoin. ‘Now, where’s this celebrity autograph hunter?’
Dylan turned the key to open the door of his house and announced his presence with a ‘Hi, Mam, I’m home’.
Caoimhe came downstairs first, clutching a large book.
‘Hiya, Eoin,’ she mumbled, ‘would you mind signing my scrapbook?’
‘Of course I wouldn’t!’ said Eoin, ‘Can I have a look at it?’
‘Eh, well … OK,’ Caoimhe replied.
Eoin flicked through the pages. There were a lot of newspaper cuttings on the dramatic end to the Begley Cup final last year, and the even more dramatic happenings outside the playing arena on Lansdowne Road. There were also short reports on this season’s Junior Cup games, and an embarrassing team photo that Eoin didn’t even remembered posing for.
‘Yeeuch,’ he said, ‘I look really gimpy out there on the end of the line. Lucky it was printed so small. And look, they got my name wrong. “Owen Maddren”. Who’s that?’
Dylan laughed. ‘Come on there, big head. They’ll get your name right as soon as you do something to make them notice.’
Eoin grinned and thanked Caoimhe for keeping the cuttings.
‘Can I get a copy of some of those off you?’ he asked. ‘I’ll wait till the end of the season when we’ve won the cup.’
Dylan threw a sock at Eoin and the pair collapsed into another playful brawl on the couch.
Mrs Coonan came in with a plate of still-warm scones and the trio tucked in. ‘Thanks Mrs C,’ said Eoin, ‘We don’t get scones as good as this in Castlerock.’
‘Well I’ll be sending Dylan up with a plastic lunchbox full of them for ye. They’ll last a few days before they get stale. I’m worried about him – are they feeding you up there at all?’
‘Yes, they are,’ explained Eoin, ‘It’s just because Dylan does so much running around at training that he’s so thin.’
Mrs Coonan laughed. ‘Well Eoin, I hope you’re keeping an eye on Dylan and are making sure he does his school work!’
Dylan grinned lamely, ‘Don’t worry about that, Mam. You keep sending up the scones and I’ll keep getting the As’
Eoin looked at his watch and stood up. ‘Thanks Mrs C, that was lovely, but I have to be getting back. See you tomorrow, Dyl. We’ll get the half two bus, OK?’
Chapter 21
. . . . . . . . .
WHEN they got back to Castlerock there were just three more days before the Junior Cup semi-final, and Eoin was getting very nervous. Nobody wanted to talk about anything else around the school, even the teachers. It had been more than ten years since Castlerock had even been in the final, so none of the pupils had ever experienced that thrill.
‘I wish it was over,’ he told Alan as they walked between classes. ‘I don’t even know if I’m on the bench. Mr Carey is being very quiet about that. We have a run-out today and hopefully he’ll let us know afterwards. I suppose if I’m not in the squad then at least I’ll get a good night’s sleep. At the moment I’m not even getting that.’
Alan paused. ‘Look, it would be great if you get in the team, but it’s no insult not to be picked. These guys are a year or more older than you. Even the small amount that you’ve done will be so useful for our year next season.’
‘That’s funny,’ said Eoin. ‘Dixie told me something similar. Are you guys comparing notes?’
Alan laughed. ‘C’mon we have History next, hope you have some progress to report on for the project.’
Eoin shrugged his shoulders and grinned.
In the classroom he was required to give a bit more detail however, and he told Mr Dunne that his researches had gone well and he had lots of information about the short life of Kevin Barry.
‘That’s fine, but you need to find out some more about what drove him to join the rebels and to give up his life in the way he did,’ the teacher said.
Mr Dunne told the boys they had one week to finish their research work and they would have to have the project completed after the Easter holidays.
Alan groaned, and whispered to Eoin that he ‘hadn’t done a tap’ on his project yet.
‘How’s yours coming along?’ he asked after class. ‘Any chance you could give me a hand?’
Eoin shrugged and laughed.
‘OK, Alan, I’m training every day, studying the rest of the time and sleeping when I get a chance. I have a huge match coming up, maybe two. And I have my own project to do! If you have any ideas for when I can find the time to help you then I’d love to hear them. Because if you do then I intend to use that time to sleep some more.’
Alan smiled. ‘Ah yes, I suppose when you put it like that …’
The training session was brief, just a run around and a few key moves repeated to make sure everyone knew their role. St Benedict’s were a powerful force in schools rugby and the outside world was starting to pay attention to the game, with regular articles appearing in the newspapers.
‘Right, men,’ announced Mr Carey as the players completed their warm-down. ‘Gather around.’
More than thirty boys each took one step forward. At this stage in the season the starting fifteen pretty much picked itself, but there were four or five other players in the same boat as Eoin, waiting to see if they’d make the match-day squad. Eoin was so nervous that his tummy felt very wobbly indeed.
‘We have the most talented bunch of Js in all the time I’ve been here, but this week’s game will be the first real test you will face. Benedict’s are a tough bunch, very physical, and they will try to win the battle in the first ten minutes when they will go in hard for every tackle. We need to be cleverer than them, and try to withstand the pressure and tire them out. And then we need to play to our strengths, which means fast ball from the half-backs and letting our back-line run when the time is right.
‘I’ve talked to Devin about our selection, and we’ve made plans for a livelier bench than the St Ultan’s game. We’ve got Eoin back and I’m bringing back Darren McGrath as well to cover the wingers. They’ll come in for Paudie and Keelan. Any questions?’
Eoin lowered his head, desperate to ensure he didn’t catch Paudie’s eye. Devin came forward and said a few words too, but none of the boys felt any need to ask questions. They knew what they had to do.
Chapter 22
. . . . . . . . .
EOIN knew he needed to be distracted from all the well-wishers and the junior school kids who just wanted to come up and stare at any member of the JCT. He pulled his grey hoody over his head, and slipped a notebook and biro into his pocket before exiting the dorm as quietly as possible. As soon as he left the building he broke into a canter, crossing the playing fields to his secret glade.
The light was already starting to fade, but Kevin was where he usually was to be found, scrabbling around at the base of the Rock.
‘Hello, Kevin,’ Eoin began. ‘Have you found what you’re looking for yet?’
Kevin stood up and shook the grass and earth from his ghostly clothes. His old rugby shirt looked like it had spent an hour under a ruck.
‘No, I haven’t,’ he sighed, ‘and I still don’t even know what I’m looking for either.’
‘Can I help?’ asked Eoin. ‘I have about an hour and we can chat while we’re digging. I need to ask you about what made you join the rebels.’
‘Righto,’ replied Kevin, glad to share the burden of the digging. ‘You take that area to the left and I’ll keep going over here. Now, let me see …’
Once Kevin got started he talked freely about his days at school and how he had come around to the rebels’ way of thinking.
‘Where my mother came from in Carlow they were always talking of the 1798 rebellion that happened in the area. I used to go down there every summer and the songs and stories of the old battles would always come out whenever there was a get-together in the house. There was no television or radio then, which I believe keeps you youngsters busy for many hours a day. So we sat around and heard these heroic tales of men and women who took up arms for Ireland.
‘Then the 1916 Rising came and it was brought right home – almost to our door in Fleet Street. The school I was attending, St Mary’s, closed down that year and I was sent up to Belvedere College. Every day I walked past the GPO and drew inspiration from those men.
‘One of the seven leaders of the Rising, Joseph Plunkett, was a past pupil of the school and his was a name you heard quite a lot around the place. They started playing hurling there and I joined up – my pal Eugene Davy played the game with me. He was a great rugby player too – your friend Brian Hanrahan told me he played with him at Lansdowne and watched him play for Ireland. That would have filled me with pride.
‘We played on the JCT together, but I didn’t get to play in the final in 1917. They left me on the bench, sadly. I had scored a brilliant try – if I say so myself – in the semi-final at Lansdowne Road so they gave us all a winners’ medal.
‘I was getting very interested in politics around then, and later that year I joined the Irish Volunteers. I didn’t get up to much, just cycling around delivering messages between the different battalions. I kept up the sport, though – it was great camaraderie and kept me fit, and I played senior my last year in Belvedere.’
Eoin continued digging away at the earth, pausing to make notes as Kevin went on with his life story.
‘I did well at the books, and won a scholarship to University College to study medicine. But I wasn’t much of a student to be honest. I enjoyed the dancing and the social life around the college a little bit too much – one day I fell off my bike four times cycling home after having a bit too much fun. I played a bit of rugby too, and joined up with the Old Belvedere club when that was founded for the former students.
‘I kept up my activities with the rebels, of course, and our company was very successful at raiding factories and depots to get weapons and ammunition. I was made section commander and one day I was given a special job to do. We needed more weapons if we were to have a chance of taking on the Empire, and we learned that there would be a band of soldiers guarding a bread lorry taking supplies to the barracks.
‘It was a routine operation, we thought – I planned to be back in UCD to do an exam a few hours later – but something went wrong and a shot was fired. That led to more firing but my gun jammed twice. I dived for cover under the bread lorry but my comrades all escaped and I was dragged out and captured.’
Eoin scribbled away as Kevin paused his excavations.
‘Well, they had a trial of sorts for me, but sure I knew I was done for from the minute they captured me. Three of their soldiers lay dead and I knew they’d be wanting revenge for that. I felt sorry for them … They were all around my age. But I believed they should never have been in my country and so I had no option but to see them as my enemy.’
Kevin wiped his brow and stared off into the distance.
‘They said they’d let me off if I gave up my comrades, but a man who gives up his fellows isn’t much of a man in my way of thinking. So six weeks later they took me out of my cell one Monday morning, and then, well … you know the rest,’ he sighed.
Eoin stopped digging and flicked a bead of sweat from his face. ‘Thanks, Kevin, I know that must have been hard to bring that up from so long ago.’
They silently returned to their work, but after a short time Eoin looked at his watch.
‘I just have five minutes more Kevin. Then I’ll have to call it a night. It’s nearly dark anyway, I can hardly see what I’m …’
Eoin stopped digging. His fingernails had hit something hard and he shook his hand to relieve the pain. He bent closer, and started to brush the clay away from where he had hit. He reached in again, and caught hold of a piece of metal. He pulled, and it came up with his hand.
Chapter 23
. . . . . . . . .
‘WHAT have you got there, lad?’ asked Kevin.
‘It’s a big key, I think,’ replied Eoin. ‘It’s covered in muck.’
