Rugby Spirit

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Rugby Spirit Page 9

by Gerard Siggins


  Dixie sighed and stared out the window.

  ‘I even got visitors from the IRFU trying to talk me out of it. They thought I was a future Irish captain, they told me.

  ‘I burnt all my rugby kit, my boots, even my school team photographs – which I regret most of all. And I wouldn’t let Kevin play the game, imagine that?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I don’t think he would have been any good at it,’ Eoin smiled.

  ‘True,’ agreed Dixie, ‘but it was selfish of me to deny him the opportunity of playing a game that had given me such a lot. And taken away a lot from me, too, I suppose.’

  ‘I don’t think Dad minds,’ said Eoin. ‘He’s becoming a keen supporter, but I don’t think he has any regrets that he never played.’

  ‘That’s why I was so keen that you go to Castlerock too,’ Dixie explained. ‘I knew you would take to rugby, and I confess that I’ve been watching a lot of the sport again this winter, trying to catch up with the changes. It is a very different game to the one I said goodbye to back in 1969.

  ‘I really hope I can get back to full health by the end of next week,’ Dixie grinned. ‘I wouldn’t want to miss the chance of seeing the first Madden at Lansdowne Road in more than forty years.’

  Eoin’s face fell for a second, but he quickly composed himself, ‘I’d love that, Grandad; I really hope you can make it.’

  They talked for a while longer about sport and school, before Eoin heard a cough behind him, and his father appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Hello, Dad, I hope Eoin’s not tiring you too much?’ Kevin asked. ‘Andy Finn is here too and he’d love a quick word. He says he has to get back to Dublin before dark so he won’t stay long.’

  Eoin stood and watched as the two old pals, torn apart by tragedy and separated by half a lifetime of regret, renewed their friendship.

  ‘God, Dixie, you’re looking fantastic. I had heard you weren’t well, but they were obviously mistaken …’ joked Mr Finn.

  Dixie laughed again, and the pair began to bridge the lost years.

  Kevin gave the old men twenty minutes alone together before he called a halt, and hugs and handshakes ended the emotional afternoon.

  ‘I hope this hasn’t been too much for you today, Dad?’ Kevin asked, after the teacher and pupil left.

  ‘Not at all, not at all,’ smiled his father. ‘It has been an absolute tonic.’

  And Dixie was right. The visit of Eoin and Andy had perked him up so much that the next time a nurse checked his vital signs it was apparent the old man was well on the road to recovery.

  CHAPTER 23

  As they started on their journey back to Dublin, Eoin and Mr Finn were in great form, as both had been enormously heartened by the visit to Dixie.

  ‘What a fantastic man Dixie is,’ Mr Finn kept saying. ‘It is the main regret of my life that I didn’t keep up our friendship. We never fell out, but he just removed himself totally from Castlerock. Then he left Dublin and we never met again. Even when your dad was at the school he never came to visit.’

  Eoin felt freer now to talk about Dixie’s career, and Mr Finn filled him in on many of the gaps. He confirmed that Dixie had been on the verge of a glorious career in a green shirt, and that the IRFU bigwigs had come to try to coax him back to the game. Eoin told the teacher about how Dixie had so regretted burning his photographs, and Mr Finn shook his head slowly.

  ‘Grief is a terrible thing Eoin, I can’t blame Dixie for not wanting to see an oval ball again. Like everyone else I was very sorry that he never got a chance to play for Ireland, but my real regret in the end was for our friendship. That was far more important to me.

  ‘I missed playing with him too, and to be honest rugby didn’t have the same appeal for me for much longer either. I gave up at the end of the following season after we lost the senior cup final to Lansdowne.’

  The mention of one of Dublin’s oldest clubs reminded Eoin of something.

  ‘Did you ever hear of a player called Hanrahan who played for Lansdowne?’ he asked the teacher.

  Mr Finn glanced across at Eoin, with a strange look on his face.

  ‘I did indeed, how ever did you hear about him?’

  Eoin thought quickly. ‘I … I was reading about him in the library,’ he lied.

  ‘And what did you read?’ quizzed Mr Finn.

  ‘That he was killed in Lansdowne Road,’ Eoin replied.

  ‘Yes, he was. Another very sad story. Brian Fitzgerald Hanrahan,’ Mr Finn sighed. ‘He was a Tipperary man, just like you. Long before my time, but people spoke very highly about him as a player. The strange thing is, the last time I heard his name spoken was just after your grandmother was killed.’

  Eoin stared back at his teacher, unsure where this conversation might lead.

  ‘It was about a week after the funeral, and I was around at Dixie’s house. He was in an awful state, completely swamped by the grief of it all. A knock came to the door and I went to open it. There were two men at the door, wearing long dark coats.

  ‘I invited them in and introduced them to Dixie. One of them was the IRFU president, but the other man, who was much older, did all the talking. He said his name was Charlie Hanrahan, and that he had seen Dixie in action on many occasions.

  ‘He said he wanted to sympathise with Richard on his terrible loss, and to offer the union’s support in any and every way. Dixie wasn’t happy to see them at first, but I made them tea and they all came into the kitchen.

  ‘Mr Hanrahan told Dixie that the whole rugby community joined him in mourning his loss, and would be standing with him for the rest of his days. He told him that he, too, had suffered a terrible tragedy through the game and that it was his fellow players who kept him going through the grief.

  ‘He went on to tell us the story of his brother Brian, who died after suffering a terrible injury out on the field in Lansdowne Road. Charlie himself was in Limerick that day, playing for Dolphin, and didn’t hear about the accident until he got home to Cork that night. A friend drove him up to Dublin where he arrived barely in time to say goodbye to his little brother.

  ‘Charlie told us that he never wanted to play again, and pulled out of the Ireland team to play Wales the following weekend. Brian had been picked for Leinster to play Munster in a junior interpro on that very same day, would you believe. Charlie said he couldn’t bear to even look at a ball for weeks afterwards.

  ‘But his friendships in rugby kept him going, and he eventually took his place in the front row and played for Ireland twenty times over the next few seasons. “I don’t doubt that I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for my pals,” he told Dixie.’

  ‘They didn’t stay long, but strongly pressed Dixie on how glittering a future he had in rugby. They even suggested that he would captain Ireland one day …’

  ‘And that’s why he never played again, is it?’ asked Eoin.

  ‘Well, I can’t be sure, but that night Dixie cried harder than he ever cried before. I had to stay in the house with him I was so concerned about him. He just couldn’t see any sort of future for himself without Irene, and playing rugby definitely wasn’t going to help.

  ‘I called over a couple of days later and found him out the back, burning his rugby gear in a big oil drum. He just looked at me and turned away.

  ‘The next day I called he was gone. I heard after a while that he had asked the bank for a transfer and moved to County Tipperary. And that’s the last time I saw him, until this afternoon. I’ll never forget the look of pain in his eyes as he stoked that bonfire. He was lost, totally lost.’

  Eoin remained silent for several minutes, and Mr Finn stared far ahead, trying to concentrate on the road ahead, but finding his mind racing back over the decades to the anguish of his dearest friend.

  CHAPTER 24

  That night, as he was going to bed, Eoin took care to undress in the bathroom. He didn’t want Rory – or any of his room-mates, really – seeing the green slimy bandage that lay under his shirt. He t
ook the poultice off carefully, and hid it in an empty crisp bag before dumping it in the waste basket. He rubbed his hand along his rib-cage. There was no longer even the slightest twinge.

  As he lay in bed, he stared at the ceiling and went over the many new things he had learned that day. He felt an enormous sadness for his grandad – and his own dad – for their terrible loss. He felt slightly ashamed that he had never really noticed the absence of his second grandmother, and had never thought to ask why she wasn’t there on Christmas morning or birthdays.

  He thought about Brian too, and how his help had transformed him as a player. Wasn’t it strange the way the Hanrahan story had weaved its way into his family history and had returned many years later? He desperately wanted to see Brian again.

  The following morning he bumped into Mr Carey on his way to class.

  ‘Madden, how are those ribs? What did the doc say?’

  ‘Well, sir, he said I probably wouldn’t be ready for the final, but that I could check it out next week,’ he fibbed.

  ‘Well get Miss O’Dea to book you an appointment for Tuesday morning. If you get the go-ahead it will give you three days to train.’

  Eoin spent much of the weekend out jogging, stretching the muscles that had become lazy and underused during his long spell out of action. He ran down to the stream to stock up on the comfrey herb, making up his own mixture locked in the top-floor loo on a quiet Sunday morning.

  As he applied the poultice, a knock came to the door. Almost spilling the green sludge, Eoin asked ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘It’s Alan,’ came the reply, ‘what on earth are you doing up here?’

  ‘I could ask you the same thing – are you following me?’ said Eoin, opening the door.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose I am,’ Alan replied. ‘I was a bit worried about you. You were talking in your sleep last night …’

  Eoin went a deep shade of red. ‘Really? Oh God, what was I saying?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue. You seemed to be talking about ghosts or something. It was very weird.’

  Eoin went an even deeper shade, almost purple. ‘That’s mad; it must have been something I ate last night.’

  ‘What exactly are you doing skulking around the top corridor?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Oh, well to tell you the truth I was just putting on this bandage,’ showing Alan the green poultice. ‘I didn’t want Duffy’s “eyes and ears” to know. It’s an old wives’ cure for cracked ribs or something. It seems to be working, too.’

  ‘Brilliant – do you think there’s still a chance you could make the team?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure of it now. I’ve conned Carey into getting another X-Ray done on Tuesday and I’ll be back in the running then …’

  On Monday evening, Alan and Eoin walked out of the dining hall after an unexciting dinner of chicken and pasta. A crowd was gathered around the noticeboard.

  ‘Who is this A. N. Other guy?’ a junior school pupil asked.

  ‘Idiot! – Can’t you read? It means “another”. That means the place still hasn’t been decided,’ some one else replied.

  Alan wormed his way to the front of the crowd.

  ‘It’s the team for the 13A final,’ he called back to Eoin. ‘And it looks like Mr Carey is going to wait for you.’

  The team sheet carried fourteen names, but the strange name – traditionally used by uncertain selectors – was written beside No.12.

  Eoin smiled, and headed off to change for another training run.

  On Wednesday morning, he was again driven down to the hospital by Miss O’Dea, who gave him the fare for his Dart back to the school. Dr Shukla was very welcoming, and his face was puzzled when he returned with the X-Rays after a long delay.

  ‘This is very strange, Eoin, I’ve had to go back to check the machine wasn’t out of order,’ he said.

  ‘Is there something wrong,’ Eoin said, looking worried.

  ‘No, not at all. Your X-Rays are perfect. It is just that I would have expected there to be some sign of the previous injury, but this looks as if nothing at all has happened to your ribs since the day you were born. It is quite uncanny, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before …’

  Eoin smiled. ‘Does that mean I’ll be OK to play rugby next weekend?’

  ‘You’ll be OK to go out and play rugby today if you wish,’ grinned Dr Shukla.

  Eoin was bouncing as he arrived at the train station. He wanted to get back to school to tell Mr Carey as soon as possible. But just as he went to pay, he remembered Brian and how much he wanted to talk to him.

  ‘Lansdowne Road,’ he spluttered to the ticket attendant.

  The train pulled up in the shadow of the stadium a few minutes later, and Eoin made his usual unannounced entry to the arena. He wandered around the tunnels and walked to the top of the stand, but Brian was nowhere to be seen. He even braved a trip to the VIP lounge and the First Aid room, but still the long-dead rugby player’s spirit failed to make an appearance.

  Eoin had been more than an hour at the stadium when he finally gave up, shrugging his shoulders as he sneaked out the side gate.

  Back at school, he sought out Mr Carey and told him the news from Dr Shukla.

  Carey grinned, and patted him on the back. ‘That’s fantastic, Madden, I’ll see you for training at six.’

  CHAPTER 25

  The day before the game, another notice was pinned to the board outside the dining hall during breakfast. There, underneath the details for spectators who wanted to travel to the game, was an amended team-sheet. And there, beside ‘No.12’ was the name ‘E. Madden’.

  ‘Brilliant!’ called out Alan. ‘You’re in the starting fifteen!’

  Eoin smiled, and accepted the many pats that were rained on his back. He jumped back, however, when he saw a fist emerge between the cluster of friends, and crash into his ribs.

  ‘Oi, that hurt,’ he cried, turning towards the fist, which was on the end of the arm owned by Richie Duffy. The out-half bully was smirking.

  ‘Hope the ribs are up to it, Madden,’ he snapped. ‘It’s a big game for a little boy from Tipperagua.’

  ‘The ribs are fine, Duffy, it was the other side that was cracked,’ he chuckled.

  The bully turned away, furious, and the rest of the boys joined in with Eoin’s laughter.

  Shortly before one o’clock the headmaster came over the PA to announce that there wouldn’t be any classes in the afternoon and he hoped to see everyone at Lansdowne Road the next day. Mr McCaffrey also asked the cup final squad to come to his office after the final class.

  Eoin joined the crowd as the boys marched up to the headmaster’s study. It was a large room, with a long table used for meetings, upon which lay a mountain of tasty treats.

  ‘All right, boys,’ Mr McCaffrey announced, ‘I know this isn’t the healthiest approach to an important sporting event, but Mr Carey says you have done all the hard work and pizza and burgers won’t do you much harm – in moderation. So do tuck in, but take it easy.’

  The boys eyed up the foodstuffs they had been forbidden for months, and drooled. Eoin’s pre-match nerves were starting to rumble, so he wasn’t feeling very hungry, but hepicked up a slice of pizza to be polite.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said as Mr McCaffrey came over to him.

  ‘De-de-lisssshus,’ gurgled Charlie Johnston through a mouthful of burger and bun.

  ‘I hear you’ve been in the wars, Mr Madden,’ the headmaster said, ‘I presume you are fighting fit for the morrow?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I had a rib injury, but it healed up quickly and I’ll be fine.’

  ‘That’s quite a relief, I hear, to Mr Carey. He’s terribly impressed with the progress you have made in such a short period of time. Is it true you never played rugby before you came to Castlerock? Less than six months and you’re Mr Carey’s main match-winner…’

  ‘Well …’ Eoin mumbled, uncomfortable at the praise, which seemed to annoy Charlie, ‘… we have loads of great pla
yers and I’ve picked it up quickly from Mr Carey and Mr Finn.’

  ‘Mr Finn?’ said the headmaster, ‘I thought he gave up coaching long ago?’

  ‘No, well, yes, but …’ said Eoin, flustered, ‘It’s his book, I found it very helpful.’

  ‘Oh, that old thing. Didn’t know it was still in print. He forced us all to read it when it came out.’

  To Eoin’s great relief, the headmaster moved on to the next group of boys. Charlie looked at him with a serious expression.

  ‘“The main match-winner”? Where did he get that from?’

  ‘Well it wasn’t from me!’ Eoin said.

  ‘Huh, you backs, always get the most attention when the real work is done in the forwards. I hope you guys appreciate all we do when you’re collecting your medals tomorrow.’

  After lunch Mr Carey got the boys to change into tracksuits and took them for a run around the school grounds.

  ‘Let’s get that pizza out of your systems before tomorrow. Brian O’Driscoll wouldn’t eat such a thing before a big game.’

  It was a subdued training session, with no real spark shown by any of the players. Mr Carey told them not to worry, that all the work had been done and they would be the best team on the field tomorrow. All they had to do was remember their plans and the scores would come.

  Eoin wandered back to the school at the back of the group, and Mr Carey caught up with him.

  ‘Everything all right, Madden?’ he asked, looking straight into Eoin’s eyes.

  ‘I’m fine, sir, just a bit nervous. How many people will be there?’

  ‘Get that out of your head, son, once the whistle blows you won’t see or hear anyone except the black and blue shirts of St Osgur’s. To be honest, I doubt if any of the Leinster supporters will come along until the last ten minutes, so you’ll only have to worry about the mammies, daddies and little sisters shrieking in the crowd.’

 

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