Feile Fever

by Joe O'Brien

  Todd smiled as if he had known it was only a matter of time before that question would arise.

  ‘It’s my club jersey from home, mate,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s mad looking!’ chuckled Paddy. ‘I’d be freezing in that!’

  ‘He’s from Australia,’ laughed Splinter. ‘They don’t have to worry about the cold down there!’

  All the other lads laughed and Paddy went a bit red.

  ‘I know that. I was only saying that I’d be freezing if I had to wear it here.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to wear it,’ said Splinter, ‘cos it’s Todd’s jersey.’

  Jimmy shook his head at his son, and interrupted the two boys before things got out of hand. He knew well that Splinter and Paddy got on each other’s nerves at the best of times, and he didn’t want them putting Todd off the team on his first training session.

  Todd didn’t mind at all. He thought it was a laugh.

  Once they were all out on the pitch, Mick instructed Jimmy to set out a few cones.

  ‘I’m going to break them up into a couple of groups, Jimmy,’ he said.

  Jimmy, like the good assistant he was, nodded.

  ‘The first group,’ continued Mick, ‘I want you to get them working on picking up the ball without breaking their stride.’

  ‘Nice one,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘You can feed the ball to them. Nice and fast now, Jimmy. Make them work hard, and sprint them back around to the back after they’ve fisted the ball to you.’

  ‘And the others?’ asked Jimmy.

  Mick had to think for a second. Jimmy could tell that there were a good few things that Mick had on his mind for the boys to practise; the poor start to the division had Mick’s thinking cap working extra hard.

  ‘Em…I think we’ll get them to work on their weaker foot. Right kickers can pass the ball to the opposite end with their left and lefties do the opposite.’

  ‘Sound, Mick. I’ll stick with the first group and keep an eye on the others.’

  Jimmy was great. He knew exactly what Mick had in mind when he saw him call Danny and Todd over to him. Mick was going to see just how good the boy from down under was.

  Mick started off by throwing a few balls in for Danny and Todd to contest.

  Todd was bigger and stronger than Danny, but Danny was no ordinary player. Mick had selected him, not because he was his son, nor even because he was the team captain, but because Danny was probably the best player Mick had and he needed to see how Todd would compete with that.

  Todd impressed him very quickly.

  He won some balls, though Danny, through pure talent as he was inferior in size, won some as well. But Mick saw at once that Todd was tough, brave and up for a good hustle. Mick liked these qualities in a player.

  ‘Have a breather, lads,’ said Mick after a couple of throws, ‘I’m going to kick the ball along the pitch and get yiz to compete for it.’

  Danny nodded and then grinned at Todd. Todd smiled back in a kind of respectful way.

  Mick kicked the ball.

  All the other players stopped in their tracks; Jimmy let them as this was something that nobody wanted to miss.

  Danny was a little faster than the Aussie and got to the ball before Todd, but just as Danny had clipped the ball up into his hands, Todd, in a moment of madness, forgot that he was supposed to be playing GAA and not Aussie Rules – CRASH! Todd stormed through Danny – legs, arms, everything – he used every limb and muscle to knock Danny flying through the air. Poor Danny let the ball go – he’d been on the receiving end of many bad tackles before, but this one was different. It was like being hit by a rhino.

  Jimmy ran over to Danny who was having difficulty catching his breath.

  ‘Ya headcase!’ shouted Kevin Kinsella.

  ‘Kevin!’ yelled Mick, and he made a Shut it! gesture at the player.

  Mick left Jimmy to look after Danny and walked over to Todd who was looking ashamed, and a bit nervous. Mick didn’t want a scene. He knew that Todd wasn’t like Sean ‘Dirty’ Dempsey who he’d had to expel from the team last year. Todd was just used to playing his own sport – Aussie rules. Mick knew that Aussie rules allowed much more contact in play, so he understood that there was no bad intent on Todd’s part.

  ‘Don’t worry, Todd,’ said Mick as he patted him on the shoulder.

  ‘Sorry, coach,’ Todd apologised, then he turned around and put his hand out to Danny.

  Danny was fine. No injuries, thankfully. Todd had just knocked the wind out of him.

  Danny shook Todd’s hand then looked at Mick.

  ‘I think we’ve a bit of work to do with this one, Da!’ he laughed.

  Todd laughed too.

  ‘Sorry Danny, mate. I’m up for it, if you give me a chance.’

  Danny threw his arm around Todd.

  ‘Don’t worry Todd. We’ll make a GAA player out of you yet.’

  Mick told Danny and Todd to join in with Jimmy’s groups. He knew, all joking aside, that Danny was right. He had a lot of work to do with Todd if he was going to keep him on the field without getting a red card.

  After training, Todd went around to Danny’s house to get a form from Mick.

  Danny, Splinter and Jonathon sat outside on the wall with Todd as Mick went in to get the form.

  ‘Here we go, Todd,’ said Mick coming out with the form, ‘just get your mam and dad to sign it and get it back tome as soon as possible. I don’t think we’ll have it through for the next league game, but we’ll definitely be okay for the Féile.’

  Todd was a bit confused. What’s a Fay le? he thought. I’ll ask Danny to bring me up to speed about it.

  Glancing down at the form, Todd asked Mick if just his mam’s signature would be all right.

  ‘Is your da dead?’ asked Splinter. The moment he’d spoken Splinter couldn’t believe those words actually crossed his lips. He was thinking them, but he hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

  ‘Shut up, Splinter,’ said Danny, looking quickly at Todd to see if he was upset.

  Todd smiled.

  ‘No, mate. My parents are separated and I’m over here with just my mum.’

  Mick jumped in before Splinter said something else to embarrass him.

  ‘Ah! That’s fine, Todd. Your mammy’s signature will do. No worries.’

  Just then Larry drove up the road to collect Jonathon.

  Perfect timing! thought Mick.

  Larry shouted out to Mick as Jonathon opened his door,

  ‘Is the game still on this weekend?’

  ‘It is indeed!’ answered Mick, waving to his brother.

  ‘I’ll see you then!’

  ‘Come to the match on Saturday, Todd,’ said Mick as he turned to walk back into the house. ‘It will be good for you to see us in action.’

  ‘Okay, coach,’ said Todd.

  Mick peeped out through the curtain after he made himself a nice cup of tea.

  Nice one Danny! he thought as he watched his son show Todd a few GAA moves on the road.

  Splinter had gone in, but Danny was putting in extra effort with Todd, and that made Mick very proud.

  He knew Todd needed all the help he could get if he was going to be ready in time for the Féile on 23 May.

  Chapter Seven

  Littlestown Crokes v Rockmount

  Todd had arranged to meet up at Danny’s house on Saturday before the match. By the time he arrived, Mick and Danny had already been out to the Little Croker to repaint the lines and hang the nets.

  ‘Todd!’ said Danny, opening the door to his friend, ‘Come on in.’

  ‘Ah, Todd,’ greeted Mick, ‘Have you got that form for me, son?’

  Todd reached into his tracksuit pocket and pulled out the crinkled form and handed it to Mick.

  Mick glanced over the form quickly, just to make sure that everything was in order.

  ‘Clifford Road?’ said Mick. ‘Is that where you’re staying?’

  Todd nodded.

 
; ‘We’re staying with my mum’s Aunt Peggy.’

  Mick smiled.

  ‘It’s about a twenty-minute walk from here. Yeah! I know it.’ Mick turned to Danny and smiled. ‘Your mammy and I used to rent a house there for a while after we got married, Danny.’

  Sometimes Mick would mention little memories like that about Danny’s mam. Danny liked to hear them; he couldn’t really remember his mam, so things like this made her seem more real to him.

  Whenever something like this happened to Mick, he would always be in great form afterwards, and this made Danny happy too.

  Mick was whistling now as he ran up the stairs.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute, lads. Get the bags out to the door, Danny.’

  ‘Does your mum come to the games?’ Todd asked Danny as they picked up the bags.

  From the look on Danny’s face, Todd knew instantly that something was wrong.

  ‘Sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to be nosy,’ said Todd.

  ‘You’re grand, Todd. It’s fine. My mam died when I was a baby.’

  Todd felt awful now. He’d half expected Danny to say that his mam and dad were separated too, and in that split second that Danny had paused before answering, Todd had hoped that they were separated. At least then he would have that in common with Danny.

  Mick came running back down the stairs, still whistling.

  ‘Are the bags not out yet?’ he laughed. ‘Step aside, lads. Let Super Coach take care of them.’

  Danny and Todd laughed at Mick.

  Everything’s all right! thought Todd. I haven’t hurt Danny’s feelings.

  That was important to Todd. Danny was beginning to become a good mate, and Todd knew deep down that he needed a good mate.

  Over at the Little Croker, Todd hovered outside the dressing room while Mick was giving his players their pre-match talk. He felt a little awkward – he was the new guy, and it didn’t seem right just yet for him to be involved in dressing room preparations.

  Mick was almost finished drilling his players.

  ‘This is the last league game before the Féile kicks off in two weeks, boys. Do your best, lads and try and enjoy the game.’

  ‘No game next week, Mick?’ asked Doyler.

  Mick shook his head. Then he said,

  ‘Actually … listen up, boys. We’re going to have a short game ourselves next Saturday – normal match time. It will keep us sharp.’

  Mick was thinking that Todd needed to get a match behind him before the Féile competition. This would be a great opportunity for that. Then looking around the room, he noticed for the first time that Todd was missing.

  ‘Where’s Todd?’ he asked Jimmy.

  Jimmy shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘He’s outside,’ answered Alan Whelan, Crokes’ centre half back.

  Mick opened the dressing room door.

  ‘In you come, Todd,’ instructed the coach. ‘Don’t be hanging around out there. You’re one of the team now.’

  Todd shuffled his way past Mick, and squeezed himself in between Danny and Splinter who had pushed aside to make room for him.

  Suddenly Mick’s phone rang. Normally Mick would never take a phone call in the dressing room, during a match or even when he was training his players, but he’d left his phone on this time, because Todd wasn’t the only player missing from the dressing room – Jonathon was also absent.

  Larry’s name flashed on Mick’s phone.

  ‘Where are yiz?’ Mick asked anxiously.

  Jimmy looked worried for a few seconds until he heard Mick say,

  ‘Right! I’ll meet yiz at the pitch. Is he in his shorts and boots? Nice one. Hurry up, Larry!’

  Mick hung up.

  ‘They’re almost here – got delayed,’ he said.

  * * *

  As Mick and Jimmy followed the team over to the Little Croker they could see Larry and Jonathon belting up the grassy bank towards them.

  Jimmy handed the number eight jersey to Jonathon.

  ‘Here J,’ he said. ‘Come on. I’ll do a little warm up with you.’

  Mick scowled Larry.

  ‘Don’t blame me!’ said Larry holding his hands up. ‘We’re always early, and we would have been today if those two hadn’t decided to tag along.’

  Two heads appeared over the horizon of the hill – two girls’ heads. Strolling along, linking each other and giggling, were Lowry and Trinity. This was the first time they had ever come to see the Crokes in action.

  * * *

  Rockmount GFC had been out on the pitch for almost ten minutes already, and they were starting to get impatient.

  Mick ran over to their manager to apologise and then he did the same to the referee. Mick’s team was always out on the pitch on time, and Mick holding out for Jonathon’s arrival had not made him popular.

  Danny Wilde stood in front of his opponent and, for the first time ever, he found himself distracted before the throw in. Instead of his usual eye-balling to put the other player off, Danny found himself staring over at Trinity.

  ‘Danny!’ whispered Jonathon.

  Danny turned to his cousin.

  Jonathon just nodded towards Rockmount’s midfielder, as if to get Danny to concentrate.

  ‘What are they doing here?’ asked Danny.

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ said Jonathon. ‘Don’t mind them. The ref’s going to throw in now.’

  Jonathon was right, Danny needed to concentrate, so with a great effort he turned away from the sidelines and looked at the other team. The referee threw the ball in, Danny jumped and, yet again, managed to win the throw in.

  He fisted the ball down to Jonathon, but Rockmount’s number nine beat him to it, and kicked it along the ground to his number eleven who sweetly clipped it up and fisted it powerfully over to number ten, the right half forward.

  Number ten was Rockmount’s star player. Danny recognised him from the Dublin Development Squad – his name was Dennis Dolly, and having seen him in action, Danny knew he was going to be trouble for the Crokes.

  Dolly turned Karl O’Toole, Crokes’ left half back, with ease and went on a solo. He was fast – very fast. Not that dissimilar to Danny.

  The crowd was going wild over at the Rockmount side.

  ‘Go on Dolly – fleece them!’

  And Dolly did just that, twisting and turning around Alan Whelan, then sending a perfect left-footer shot over for a point.

  Rockmount were already in the lead!

  You could sense the tension from the Crokes’ line. Jimmy had already started on biting at his fingernails – well what was left of them from the last match – and Larry had already untied Heffo from the training bag and gone for a walk up the line so that he wouldn’t have to watch.

  ‘Come on, lads!’ roared Mick. ‘Get stuck in!’

  Danny snapped into super mode. He had two motives that were geared up for one out come – victory.

  The two motives – Trinity and Dolly.

  There was no way Danny was going to be humiliated by letting his team be slaughtered in the very first game that Trinity Dawson came to see, and neither was he going to give Dennis Dolly the opportunity to brag to the rest of the Dublin development squad that his team was better than Danny’s.

  Danny played a stormer in the first half. He rallied his players together and really lifted their game.

  The Crokes’ supporters really got behind Danny, they cheered, screamed out his name and yelled for the team. And on the sidelines, Todd watched a master in action and was humbled – and determined to learn to become a GAA player like Danny Wilde.

  Danny scored two points and set Splinter and Doyler up for two more each.

  Even little John Watson, who had well and truly been thrown in at the deep end at centre half forward, scored a lovely point after Danny threw a shimmy around Rockmount’s centre half back, releasing Watson free to shoot.

  Rockmount’s weaknesses quickly unfolded. Their one and only strength was indeed Dennis Dolly. Once Mick Wilde
realised this, he yelled constantly at the Crokes to keep the play away from Rockmount’s gifted number ten.

  That tactic worked as Rockmount only scored one more point in the first half.

  As the referee blew his half-time whistle, Crokes were winning comfortably by a score of 0-7 to 0-2.

  ‘Get the oranges out, Jimmy,’ smiled Mick, who was very happy with his team’s first half performance.

  All the players drained every drop of juice from their well-deserved oranges and then crowded in close to listen to Mick.

  ‘Nice one, lads,’ praised Mick. ‘That’s great playing out there. They’re a one-trick pony,’ he continued, referring to Dennis Dolly.

  ‘Keep him out of the game boys and you’ll stay on top for this one,’ added Larry.

  Jimmy chewed on his lower lip. There goes Larry again, he thought. Stuff this! I’m going to say something as well!

  ‘Yeah!’ said Jimmy and nothing else came out.

  All the players started tittering.

  Poor Splinter was mortified. Is Da losing the plot? he thought.

  Mick just looked at Jimmy, expecting something else, but nothing came – not a word.

  Although Jimmy had great intentions to say something, he hadn’t enough time to work out what to say.

  The referee blew his whistle for the second half.

  ‘Right, lads,’ said Mick. ‘Back out there, and don’t drop your guards. Keep the ball away from you know who. We don’t want him getting back into the game.’

  Everyone ran back onto the pitch, except Danny who was standing as if mesmerised, looking over at Todd laughing with Trinity and Lowry. Danny didn’t care about Todd being friendly with Lowry, but Trinity was leaning into Todd, laughing at what he was saying, and that bothered Danny.

  ‘Danny!’ yelled Mick to snap his son out of his trance.

  Danny jumped.

  ‘The game!’ said Mick with a shocked look on his face.

  Danny ran out to the centre of the field.

  ‘I’ll jump for this Danny. Is that okay?’ asked Jonathon, but Danny didn’t answer. He was still staring over at Todd and Trinity.

  The ball was thrown in and Jonathon jumped high and strong, but he was beaten to it. Rockmount’s number eight caught it easily and kicked it long up field.