Rugby Runner

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Rugby Runner Page 5

by Siggins, Gerard;


  ‘That’s his name!’ said Eoin. ‘He came to visit me at home.’

  ‘Really,’ said Alan, ‘You never mentioned that.’

  ‘I forgot it to be honest, the rugby has me distracted. I woke up one night and he was there, looking for something. He was about to tell me why he was here when Dad turned on the light.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem dangerous,’ said Brian, ‘but he’s certainly upset about something.’

  ‘Well, if he comes back let him know the fella from Ormondstown was here, will you?’

  ‘I will,’ nodded Brian.

  ‘We better get back to our run,’ said Eoin, ‘I have to be in top condition this weekend.’

  Chapter 16

  Eoin, Alan and Rory got a lift to Belfield on Saturday morning from Mr Carey. The Castlerock coach was keen to meet the Leinster back-room staff and got the boys there three hours before their game was due to kick off. Killian had come from home and was keen to catch up.

  ‘I’ve never been so nervous in my life before,’ he admitted. ‘This is even worse than London.’

  ‘I know,’ agreed Eoin. ‘That just seemed so new and there was no real pressure. This time everyone expects us to win and the World Cup means we’re all terrified of making a mistake and missing out.’

  ‘Who’s missing out?’ came a familiar voice.

  ‘Dylan!’ they all echoed.

  ‘Yeah, my email worked!’ he grinned. ‘The coach rang me last night and asked me to travel up. I’m not in the team, but it’ll good to be around them again and who knows what will happen if I get a chance.’

  Ted had kept the Leinster selection under wraps all week, but when he gathered his squad together in the dressing room he read out what was undoubtedly the best team he had available.

  ‘From the back, we have Howard, Pedlow, O’Reilly, Horan, McGrath, Madden and Nicholson. And the forwards, from the front, are Nolan, Nolan, Nolan, Muldowney, Farrelly, O’Sullivan, Gill and Bermingham. The organisers have decided we can bring on up to seven replacements from the whole 45 in the squad – so everyone stay loose.’

  ‘He’s dropped McCord,’ hissed Rory, far more interested in the omission of the second row than his own.

  Sure enough, the Dodder Woods bully was turning purple – and was glowering at JD Muldowney who had taken ‘his’ place.

  ‘Can I have a word, Ted?’ McCord interrupted.

  ‘After the game,’ snapped the coach.

  ‘But…’

  ‘AFTER the game,’ Ted repeated, before turning his back on McCord to talk to Eoin.

  McCord sat down, deflated, while everyone else busied themselves and tried to avoid eye contact with him.

  Ted quietly ran through his plans with Eoin, and how he saw the replacements panning out. He admitted that he hadn’t been sure what to do at scrum-half, where Rory and Páidí Reeves were also contending for a starting place, but had opted for Killian.

  ‘We’ll hit them hard and early, and try to get a good lead up. Their pack is big and strong, but we can beat them if you get the backs moving.’

  Eoin nodded and finished off his pre-game routine, tying his left boot before his right and turning his right sock down before his left. Grandad had told him he had similar superstitions, so Eoin had taken them up in his honour. He sometimes got confused about the order, but he didn’t take them too seriously.

  Ted gave his final pre-match instructions to the team, which were followed to the letter, with Sam Rainey, the Ulster scrum-half, floored by a crunching hit as he took the ball from the first ruck of the game. As Eoin waited for Sam to gather himself to resume, he caught the eye of Paddy O’Hare. To his amusement, his opposite number winked at him. Eoin grinned back, happy that they would all be great friends no matter the result.

  Sam lost a bit of confidence from that early hit, and his passing suffered over the next few minutes, allowing Leinster that extra bit of time to intercept, breach the Ulster defence and send Shane Pedlow over for the opening score. Eoin’s conversion extended Leinster’s lead.

  The out-half added three more points in the first-half, slotting over a penalty from outside the twenty-two and winning a thumbs-up from the coach. Eoin noticed that just as Ted had given him the signal he had been tapped on the back by a man wearing a suit – and that the coach then moved away to talk to him.

  Ted wasn’t on the touchline when the half-time whistle blew and his assistants looked a little confused for about twenty seconds until the coach arrived, flustered.

  ‘Sorry about that, the Leinster chief executive wanted a word with me…’

  Ted went through his usual team talk, and suggested some ways of tightening up their play.

  ‘I’m going to make one substitution now. They’ve got a big scrum and I think we need a bit more power in ours, so I’m going to take off JD and bring on Marcus.’

  Eoin’s face fell, as did most of the rest of the team. JD was playing a blinder.

  ‘OK, out you go, and keep the scoreboard tilting our way.’

  Mention of the scoreboard reminded Eoin to tell the rest of the team that points difference would decide the title, so they had to win by eleven points. Ted’s eyes widened and he checked his competition rules booklet.

  ‘Eoin’s right, so keep going right to the end,’ he told the team, before taking Eoin aside again.

  ‘That’s impressive, Eoin, I wasn’t aware of that and I should have been.’

  Eoin told him about his pal Alan, and suggested he be made team stats man, which Ted laughed at, but then nodded and said he’d make sure he got a medal if he was the difference between winning and losing.

  Chapter 17

  The introduction of McCord could have proved disastrous. He misread the line-out calls, knocked-on every time he got near the ball, and was yellow carded for using his boot too close to an opponent’s head; as the second row jogged to where he had to sit until his ten minutes was up, Ted turned the other way.

  During a break in play Eoin was distracted by a huge cheer from the adjoining pitch where the other interpro was being played at the same time. He spotted Alan on the sideline and waved at him, pointing towards the cheers.

  Alan understood and jogged off to find out what was going on. He returned with a big grin on his face and his thumbs up. Eoin shrugged. Did he mean Munster were winning, or Connacht? Alan drew a large ‘C’ in the air.

  Eoin snorted, ‘Typical Leinster fan, wants anyone to win but the Reds,’ he thought to himself, before realising which shirt he was wearing.

  The Leinster pack came under huge pressure while McCord was off the field and they eventually cracked. They lost scrum after scrum, but held out with great effort until Sam Rainey slipped through the gap to cross in the corner, bringing the score to 10-5 with ten minutes left.

  While the conversion was being taken, and Ted was bringing a new front row on and replacing Killian with Rory, Eoin took the players aside and explained the score difference rule. He told them how they needed to put in much greater effort in the short time that was left.

  ‘You’re playing for an Irish cap, remember,’ he told them. ‘This may be the only time most of us will ever get so close to one. So don’t spend your life regretting that you didn’t put your all into ten short minutes.’

  Luckily, Paddy was off target with the extra-pointer and Leinster kept their five-point lead.

  ‘If he’d got that we’d need to get eight points to win – which would have meant two scores, which might be too much for us,’ Eoin thought as the team got into position for the game to resume. ‘Now it’s a try and conversion, or two penalties.’

  Straight from kick off the Leinster forwards barrelled into the opposition with new fire. Panic began to set in with Ulster and a stray hand conceded a penalty just inside the 22, but out on the wing.

  ‘What do you think, Eoin,’ asked Rory. ‘I’ve seen you get much harder ones.’

  ‘I know,’ groaned Eoin. ‘I’ll have to go for it.’

  The o
ut-half teed up the ball and took a deep breath. He sized up the kick and swung his leg in rehearsal. He heard another cheer for the neighbouring pitch as he made his run, but put it out of his mind as he concentrated on getting a clean kick in.

  Smack! The ball tumbled over itself as it climbed, and as it dropped he was relieved to see both the touch judges raising their flags – 13-5, still three points needed.

  By now nearly everyone watching and playing was aware of Alan’s calculations, and the Ulster boys were desperate not to make the mistake that would give away a tournament-clinching penalty. Rory took Eoin to one side and cupped his hand to speak into his ear.

  ‘These guys are terrified of giving away a penno. They’re backing off tackles. I’m going to try to make a few breaks – will you give me back-up?’

  Eoin nodded. Killian was a good, solid scrum-half who delivered the ball quickly and cleanly, but he just didn’t have the same attitude as Rory. The Castlerock No 9 was always looking for an opportunity to cause trouble for the opposition and had a good sense for the changes in mood that came throughout a game.

  As Leinster crept up the field, every metre was hard fought. Eoin watched Rory closely, alert to whatever he might be up to. Time was ticking away and because there was no stadium clock, Eoin kept asking the referee how much was left.

  ‘Three minutes,’ he replied. ‘One minute less than when you last asked.’

  ‘Sorry, ref,’ Eoin grinned. ‘Just getting a bit nervous.’

  The Blues were stuck just inside the Ulster half and getting increasingly frantic in their play.

  ‘Take it easy, lads,’ Eoin called out. ‘We’ve all the time we need.’

  Rory turned and grinned at him over his shoulder.

  As the ball emerged from the ruck the little scrum-half shaped to fling the ball out wide and the Ulster defence moved to make their stand. But Rory hadn’t let the ball go, and swivelling on his heel he darted past the wing forward and sidestepped Paddy O’Hare who had been wrong-footed by the move.

  Rory tucked the ball under his arm and charged as fast as he could. He zeroed on the goalposts where the only obstacle was the Ulster full-back. ‘Where are you, Eoin?’ he roared, turning to pass as the last line of defence closed in.

  And Eoin was there, as he said he would be, ready to collect the pass, race past the No 15 and touch down under the posts.

  The Leinster captain was mobbed by his team but hurried them back to their positions so he could knock over the conversion before facing Ulster’s final assault. The Blues held firm however, and there was a huge roar as the whistle sounded for the last time.

  There was a strange echo, too, before Eoin realised it had come from the other pitch. Both sides shook hands and some of the Leinster team danced a little jig.

  ‘When do we get the trophy,’ asked Rory, as he took the cheers of his team-mates.

  ‘Eh… I’m not sure you will,’ gasped Alan, who had just rushed onto the field. He pointed over at the Munster versus Connacht game. ‘Connacht are winning… by miles.’

  Chapter 18

  ‘Oh no!’ groaned Eoin. ‘But they were miles behind us, weren’t they?’

  The boys rushed over to the touchline to watch the closing moments.

  ‘It’s 46-3’ said Alan, I think that means they’re five points ahead of you.

  He scribbled on his piece of paper which now read ‘Ulster +22, Leinster +31, Connacht +36.’

  A spectator told them there had been a long break for injury as a Munster winger had broken a leg, so there were still a few minutes left.

  Eoin noticed that Dylan had come on as replacement and he gave him a supportive cheer when he made a good tackle.

  Dylan looked over and gave them a thumbs up.

  The Connacht out-half had signalled for his right winger to go on a run, and he chipped the ball across the field for him to collect. But Dylan had spotted what he was up to and had moved across to cover. He sped in before the ball bounced and snatched it out of the winger’s hands.

  Eoin grinned, and urged his pal on. He had seventy metres to run – and the shortest legs on the field – but that wasn’t going to stop Dylan. Eoin knew he hadn’t played for weeks, but he had been working hard on his running every day and Eoin could almost see the extra pace surging through his little legs. He so wanted his pal to do well, and it would be a nice bonus for Leinster too.

  Eoin roared Dylan on as he careered along the touchline, all the while keeping clear of the Connacht defence that had gathered in pursuit. With one last effort, as three boys in green shirts charged towards him, Dylan flung himself into the corner with the ball stretched out in front of him.

  ‘Frrrrrrrrppp!’ went the referee’s whistle as he lifted his arm straight into the air. The beaten Munster team patted their sole hero on the back as the conversion was taken, but the ball sailed out wide to the left.

  ‘What does that mean, Alan?’ gasped Eoin, staring at his friend.

  Alan made some more scribbles, and checked the figures again before he spoke.

  ‘It’s a tie,’ he gulped. ‘Leinster +31, Connacht +31’.

  Ted wandered across to where the boys were standing, and chuckled as Alan showed him the numbers.

  ‘I’d have taken that a week ago when Connacht beat us. I suppose we’ll have to get the chainsaw out for the trophy. I wonder will the Leinster bigwigs mind having a bit of scrap metal in their glass case?’

  The tournament organisers called all the teams and spectators together and confirmed that Connacht and Leinster had finished dead level at the top of the table, and as there was no other way of breaking the tie they would share the trophy.

  Standing together, Eoin and Joe Kelly awkwardly received the trophy from the IRFU President whose speech thanked them all for playing with such commitment and skill, and wished them well for the forthcoming World Cup.

  ‘And you’ll need it,’ he grinned. ‘The draw was made this morning and I can reveal that your first game is against ….The All Blacks!’

  A ripple of laughter went around the ground, but none of the boys moved. No one had been selected yet, and they didn’t want to be seen to react to something that might have nothing to do with them.

  The President also introduced them to Neil, who would be coaching the Under 16 World Cup team, and told them that the selection committee would be meeting that evening and would send out emails to the lucky thirty-two players as soon as they had picked the squad.

  Dylan, Eoin and Rory walked back to the dressing rooms together.

  ‘You do realise you’ve won the trophy for Leinster,’ Eoin ribbed Dylan.

  Dylan’s mouth opened wide.

  ‘Oh no, I never thought that’s what would happen,’ he replied, horrified. ‘If I’d known that I would have dropped the ball.’

  Eoin grinned. ‘We’ll have to make sure you get a bit of the shrapnel when they cut that cup in half.’

  Chapter 19

  The emails came whizzing into their in-boxes on Monday morning. Mr McCaffrey had allowed the three Castlerock boys who played for Leinster to use the computer room that lunchtime to check their accounts.

  Sure enough, Rory, Eoin and Charlie were all delighted to be selected for Ireland, and replied accepting their place in the mini World Cup squad.

  Mr Finn called into the common room later to congratulate Eoin.

  ‘I must give Dixie a call too,’ he smiled. ‘It’s a great day for the Madden family as a whole.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll call after school,’ said Eoin. ‘We’ve lots of work piled on us, it being the first day back.’

  The word about the great honour that had been bestowed on the trio spread quickly around the school. Eoin’s back was sore from being slapped across it so often, and he got even more embarrassed as each teacher made a point of calling for a round of applause for them before each of the afternoon classes.

  After school he walked back to their room with Dylan.

  ‘It’s all a bit mad, isn�
�t it?’ Eoin laughed. ‘Three years ago I’d never played the game and now I’m playing for Ireland.’

  ‘Fair play to you Eoin,’ his friend said. ‘It’s a pity I was out for almost all the interpros. I would have liked to give that a good go.’

  ‘You definitely would have been on,’ said Eoin, trying to commiserate. ‘Our wingers aren’t great – the Connacht lad is strong, but he hasn’t got the pace you would have brought.’

  Dylan shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe they’ll call me up if there’s a few injuries.’

  Eoin shook his head. ‘Well … Ted told me they were sending emails to the stand-by guys too.’

  Dylan stared at him. ‘Really? I didn’t bother checking because I thought I’d no chance.’

  Eoin laughed. ‘You’re some sap, Dyl. Here, we’ll drop over to the computer room, there might be someone there.’

  Fifth and Sixth Year boys were allowed use the computers after school and they were given a key to get in and out of the room. Eoin popped his head in the door and found Devin Synnott working at a screen. Devin had been captain of the winning Junior Cup team the year before.

  ‘Hi, lads, what has you up here with the geeks?’ he asked.

  ‘Can I check my email?’ asked Dylan. ‘I’ll be quick.’

  ‘Work away, I’m nearly done anyway.’

  Dylan logged on to his computer and waited for the mails to arrive. Eoin noticed that his hand was shaking a little.

  There was only one email since he’d last logged on, and it bore just four words: ‘Irish Rugby Football Union.’

  ‘Yippee!’ laughed Eoin, as his friend hurried to open the file.

  ‘Dear Mr Coonan,’ it began. ‘You have been selected as a stand-by player for the Ireland Under 16 squad to take part in the World Rugby U16 Cup in Dublin. Please read the attached document on the need to maintain your fitness and match practice and reply to this email address stating whether you are available or not.’

 

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