Feile Fever

by Joe O'Brien

  Jimmy ran over to Mick’s side.

  ‘What’s wrong with Danny?’ fretted Jimmy.

  Mick looked over his shoulder and nodded towards Todd.

  ‘I think Romeo there is getting a bit too close to Lowry’s friend for Danny’s liking.’

  ‘Ah, Jaysis, Mick!’ said Jimmy. ‘We can’t have that. We need Danny. I’ll have a word.’

  ‘Leave it, Jimmy,’ said Mick. ‘I’ll have a chat with Danny myself. Just go over and try and get Todd to look at the game. He’s supposed to be learning about GAA, after all, not trying to get young Trinity’s telephone number.’

  Jimmy walked slowly along the line, peering at Todd out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want to barge over and embarrass Todd. He thought he’d wait a moment or two and see if Todd would notice him and maybe give the two girls the brush-off.

  As Jimmy tried to get his attention, he couldn’t help overhearing Todd telling Trinity something very interesting,

  ‘Yep! My mum and dad are separated quite a while now,’ began Todd.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Trinity. ‘Did they not get on with each other?’

  ‘Nah! It wasn’t really like that,’ said Todd. He paused and then continued,

  ‘I suppose you could say we were all victims of my dad’s success.’

  ‘Really?’ said Trinity. ‘What does he do?’

  Todd paused again before saying,

  ‘Oh, he’s a top Aussie Rules coach. He travels around a lot and I guess he and Mum just grew apart.’

  Trinity was impressed, and so was Jimmy.

  ‘He used to play professionally when he was younger,’ added Todd.

  ‘Do you miss him?’ asked Trinity.

  ‘Kind of, but we keep in touch on the phone a lot, and send e-mails and stuff.’

  Suddenly Jimmy heard Mick calling him. He ran back up to Mick and began to tell him everything he’d heard, but although it was interesting stuff, at the moment, Mick was more concerned about the fact that his team seemed to be losing their grip on the game.

  In those few moments that Jimmy had been listening to Todd talking about his dad, Rockmount had scored a point. To make things worse, Danny’s lack of concentration was damaging the rest of the team’s form. With Danny off-form, Dennis Dolly was back in the game, and he was going to make the Crokes pay for his first-half exile. Dolly won every ball that his team mates played over to him, knocking over point after point and sending in long, precise passes to his full forward line.

  There were only a couple of minutes left on the clock and Crokes had a narrow lead of only one point with a score of 0-8 to 0-7.

  Mick hollered words of encouragement to his team to hang on, but hang on they couldn’t and Rockmount stole a draw from the Crokes with an equalising point scored by none other than Dennis Dolly!

  Mick asked Jimmy to gather all the players in the dressing room, while he and Danny took down the nets. Jimmy just nodded. He knew that Mick was anxious to have a little chat with the team captain.

  Mick waited until everyone had left the pitch before he brought up the tender subject of Trinity Dawson.

  ‘What happened out there, Danny?’ asked Mick.

  Danny looked down. Mick had never seen his son this low after a game. Of course the Crokes had lost games before, but Mick knew that this wasn’t only about losing the game. He didn’t want to jump straight into the conversation about Trinity though, he’d prefer to let Danny open up by himself.

  ‘It’s nothing, Da,’ said Danny as they rolled up the net.

  ‘It didn’t look like nothing to me. Something was bothering you out there, Danny. I’ve never seen you distracted like that before.’

  ‘I know. I just had a bad game,’ muttered Danny.

  ‘Did somebody do or say something to put you off?’ asked Mick, trying to get Danny to come clean. Mick knew what was bothering his son, but he also knew that girl business for a teenager was serious business and it had to be dealt with carefully.

  Danny didn’t answer straight away. Mick thought he was going to get it all out in the open.

  ‘I’m grand,’ said Danny. ‘Just an off-day.’

  ‘It wasn’t anything to do with Trinity being here, was it?’ asked Mick.

  Danny went red.

  ‘Trinity!’ he gasped, ‘No way, Da. Not a chance. I mean … was Trinity here? I didn’t even see her!’ pretended Danny.

  Mick could see that he’d embarrassed Danny, so he decided to leave it at that.

  ‘Sorry, son. Just a thought,’ he said.

  By the time Mick and Danny joined the others in the dressing rooms, the whole team was excitedly discussing Todd’s dad, the famous Aussie Rules coach. Todd wasn’t in the dressing room; there was no sign of him at all.

  ‘Hey, Danny!’ said Darren Ward, Crokes’ right half back, as he was tying his shoe. ‘Did you hear about Todd’s da?’

  Mick looked at Jimmy accusingly. Jimmy immediately buried his head in one of the training bags to hide from Mick.

  ‘Where’s that pump, I thought it was in here. One of the balls is soft. Now where is it?’ fumbled Jimmy.

  Mick smiled. He couldn’t but love Jimmy, even if he did have a big mouth from time to time.

  ‘What about Todd’s da?’ Danny asked Darren.

  Just then, Todd walked in through the door.

  ‘There’s Todd now!’ said Darren. ‘Hey! Todd! Nice one about your da. That’s animal, man!’

  Todd looked a bit bewildered.

  ‘What’s it like having a da who was a pro Aussie player, and is now a top coach?’ smiled Kevin Kinsella, Crokes’ left corner full back.

  Todd laughed a little, but it was a nervous laugh and he went a bit red too.

  ‘Is that right Todd?’ asked Danny.

  ‘Eh … Aw … Yeah, Danny. Crikey! It’s no big deal, boys.’

  Danny walked over to Todd and patted him on the shoulder.

  ‘Savage, Todd,’ smiled Danny. ‘No wonder you’re a good player.’

  Then Danny sat down and started to get himself changed.

  Mick was pleased with Danny.

  Maybe this Trinity business won’t be such a problem after all! thought Mick.

  Chapter Eight

  An Important Meeting

  Later that night, Danny came home from Splinter’s house to find Mick flapping around the house in search of a pen.

  Mick was on his phone.

  ‘Danny!’ he called, ‘Where are all the pens?’

  Danny ran upstairs and took a pen from his schoolbag and handed it to Mick.

  Mick rushed off into the kitchen, and started jotting down notes on the back of an envelope.

  The next twenty minutes were quite mysterious as Mick made and received several phone calls. Finally he called Danny into the kitchen and asked him for his help.

  As a result, Danny went into school on Monday morning with a mission – a mission for Mick; Mick had received an important phone call and it required the urgent attention of Principal Dunstan.

  Danny arrived at school early, and went straight to the principal’s office at the end of the first and second year’s corridor. He knocked on the door.

  There was no reply.

  Danny knocked again. Where is he? he thought. The Grim Reaper is always in his office.

  Thankfully, Danny didn’t say those words aloud as Principal Dunstan came tiptoeing along the corridor and stood behind Danny without Danny even hearing him approach.

  ‘You’re looking for me, Mr Wilde?’ he asked.

  ‘Aaagh!’ screamed Danny nearly jumping out of his skin, ‘I didn’t hear you.’

  The principal just smiled, satisfied with the boy’s surprise. It had taken him many years of practice to master the art of sneaking up on pupils. Oh, yes! Principal Dunstan had caught many a pupil up to mischief with this skill of his.

  He let Danny into his office.

  Although Danny was coming to the end of his first year in secondary school this was his firs
t time in the office. Danny looked all around the room as Mr Dunstan twiddled with his computer. Being old-fashioned, he didn’t actually know how to use the computer very well, but every morning he switched it on just for the sake of doing so.

  After a while of button-twiddling, the principal’s head reappeared from behind the computer monitor.

  ‘Now, Danny. What’s the trouble?’

  ‘Nothing!’ replied Danny.

  The principal looked at him in surprise.

  Danny tried again,

  ‘I mean…my da…’ he stuttered. He wished that Mick had come in to talk to the Grim Reaper himself. Danny wasn’t comfortable at all in this one-to-one conversation and, to make things worse, he kept thinking of how he had showed Mr Dunstan up last week in the interactive games room in Croke Park.

  ‘Is your father okay?’

  ‘Savage! … I mean, he’s fine …’ answered Danny. ‘He was wondering if he could … Well not just him, but the club – our club – Littlestown Crokes, our GAA club…He was wondering if we could sort of have a loan of your school hall on Thursday night after training … my da wants to call an important meeting with all the players’ parents.’

  Danny took a big breath of relief. There! He had managed to get it all out!

  Principal Dunstan smiled. He appreciated the effort Danny was making for his football club.

  ‘Certainly Danny,’ he agreed, ‘but he’ll have to bring the hall back to the school when he’s finished with it. Is that okay?’

  Danny just looked at him for a few seconds.

  What’s he on about?

  Then he realised that Principal Dunstan was actually being humorous.

  Savage, thought Danny, but weird! The Grim Reaper’s not supposed to be funny.

  Principal Dunstan raised his eyebrows in anticipation of an answer from Danny.

  ‘Great. I’ll tell my da. That’s super. Thanks very much. He’ll be over the moon.’

  * * *

  Mick had a great turnout for his meeting in the school hall. He had asked all of his players on Tuesday night to ask their parents to attend his meeting after training on Thursday and most of them came along. Some of the other managers from the club were there too, as well as all of Mick’s players. This meeting concerned everyone.

  Mick sat at a table at the top of the hall with Jimmy sitting to the right of him and Maurice Clarke, the club’s president sat on his left. Danny and the rest of the team all sat together at the back of the hall.

  Mick began to speak once it appeared that everyone was settled in their seats.

  ‘Thanks everyone for coming tonight. I think I know you all. For anyone I don’t know, and who doesn’t know me, I’m Mick Wilde, the manager of the under-14’s team. This is Jimmy Murphy, my assistant and to my left is our club president, Maurice Clarke. I’m sure you all know Maurice,’ smiled Mick. ‘Now, I have some good news to announce. The boys have probably mentioned the Féile. They all seem pretty excited about it – that’s probably the reason why most of you are here – and I’m delighted they’re looking forward to it so much. The main reason I called everyone here tonight is that I’m going to need your help and support if what I have to propose is going to work out …’

  Mick went on to tell everyone that Cherrydale, one of the two teams who were supposed to host the under-14’s Division 1 County Féile could no longer do so due to pitch vandalism problems.

  ‘We’ve been asked if we want to step in. I know Cherrydale’s manager very well,’ smiled Mick, ‘and he’d be thrilled if we took over the hosting from them.’

  Everyone looked at each other. Littlestown to host the Féile? The boys from the team could hardly sit still they were so excited. Splinter started cheering and had to be hushed by Jimmy who stood up and frowned at him.

  A man put his hand up. It was Paddy Timmons’ father, Charlie.

  ‘I think that’s great news, Mick,’ said Charlie Timmons, ‘but we don’t have much time to get ready for this. The Féile’s only a little over a week away.’

  ‘Well! I think if we all pull together as we’ve done in the past for whatever reason, we certainly can do ourselves proud,’ answered Mick.

  Both Jimmy and Maurice, the club president nodded in agreement and support of Mick’s answer.

  Another hand went up.

  It was Dolores Darcy, mother of Liam Darcy, the Crokes’ goalkeeper.

  ‘Howya, Mick!’ greeted Mrs Darcy.

  ‘Ah! Howya, Dolores, I didn’t see you there behind Johnny Kinsella’s big head!’ laughed Mick.

  Everyone joined in, especially Johnny Kinsella, Kevin Kinsella’s dad. He and Mick were good pals.

  Dolores Darcy took a few minutes to calm herself before she could ask Mick her question.

  ‘Sorry, Mick,’ she said. ‘You had me in stitches there. I was wondering how are we going to do this when we don’t have anywhere for these people? We don’t have a clubhouse, Mick. Sure that’s why we’re all sitting here in the school hall now. Surely we’re not going run the whole show from here, are we?’

  Mick smiled.

  ‘Good question, Dolores. No, we’re not, that wouldn’t work. To be honest, I don’t really know. That’s one of the reasons why I asked everyone here tonight, to see if we can work something out together.’

  Another hand went up. Mick was starting to feel the pressure already.

  It was Alan Whelan’s father, Gerry.

  ‘Do you have any idea, Mick, when we’re getting the new clubhouse and dressing rooms. I thought we were supposed to have them this year?’

  Now things were getting a little side tracked. This wasn’t what Mick wanted. He needed everyone to come up with solutions as to how they were going to co-host the County Féile, and that as yet wasn’t happening.

  Maurice Clarke, the club manager, picked up on this and stepped in.

  ‘Sorry Mick,’ apologised Maurice. ‘Could I answer that one?’

  Mick was delighted.

  ‘Hello everyone. As Mick kindly introduced me earlier. I’m Maurice Clarke, the club president. Just to answer that question from … is it Mr Whelan? No plans have changed for the new build. The grants are all through and we’ve been in discussion for some time now with various builders and have finally appointed a contractor to carry out the works. We’re hoping to get going on the project before the end of the year or maybe start early next year and we’re all very excited about the whole thing!’

  Everyone seemed happy with Maurice’s answer. Splinter was so delighted with the idea of the new dressing rooms that he started punching Jonathon and Danny and had to be hushed again.

  Another hand went up from the very back row of seats.

  Mick couldn’t make out the person’s face.

  The man stood up, so Mick could see him better.

  It was Larry! Mick hadn’t noticed Larry arriving, but he was thrilled that his brother had made the effort. Things between Mick and Larry were great now since they sorted out their differences at the end of last season.

  ‘Larry!’ smiled Mick. He was dying to know what Larry was going to ask.

  First, Larry introduced himself to everyone; he was used to that, being a barrister.

  ‘I’m Larry Wilde. Mick’s brother. My son Jonathon plays on the team.’

  Jonathon was scarlet. Get to the point dad, before you bore them to death!

  Larry continued,

  ‘It seems to me, looking at the turnout here tonight, that everyone who has some form of attachment to the club – whether their child plays for Mick’s team or they’re managers or whatever – you all obviously care a lot about each other.’

  ‘Have you any questions Larry?’ Jimmy blurted out.

  Mick scowled Jimmy. He knew that Jimmy wasn’t getting on too well with Larry, but this wasn’t the right moment for that nonsense.

  ‘Not really!’ answered Larry. ‘I have a suggestion if that’s alright?’

  ‘Go ahead, Larry,’ encouraged Mick.

  �
�Well, I think that you have all the ingredients to co-host this Féile with great success.’

  Everyone listened attentively.

  ‘You have commitment, passion, pride, support. The only thing you don’t have is a large room for refreshments and maybe a couple more dressing rooms for the teams.’

  ‘That’s a big problem,’ laughed Charlie Timmons. ‘You can’t expect everyone to eat sandwiches and drink tea on the pitch. What if it rains?’

  Larry paused for a second or two, and then he smiled.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that! I have a golfing friend who owns a marquee rental company. He owes me a favour. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending you a large marquee for a refreshments tent, and maybe a smaller one too, if you like. You’d be under canvas in case it rains, and you could set out tables and chairs and so on. I think that would sort that problem out for you!’

  Mick nearly jumped out of his chair. He turned to Maurice Clarke. Maurice nodded, with a smile as big as a Cheshire cat.

  ‘Ah! Larry. That’ll be great!’ said Mick.

  ‘I don’t know about permits or whatever you might need to erect them in the park,’ said Larry.

  ‘I’ll take care of that,’ said Maurice.

  ‘Will your friend throw the sandwiches and teas in, as well?’ laughed Dolores Darcy.

  Larry shook his head. He wasn’t sure whether Dolores was actually being serious or not.

  ‘Ah, well! That’s that, girls,’ said Dolores. ‘Don’t make any plans for going out next Friday night. It looks like we’ll be making the sambos for this Féile.’

  Everyone laughed.

  That was that! Everyone agreed to help out now that Larry had solved the one and only obstacle that stood in their way.

  Larry the hero! thought Mick. He was very proud of his brother.

  * * *

  As the school hall emptied out, Mick noticed Todd walking over towards him with a woman.

  ‘Coach!’ said Todd. ‘This is my mum, Sarah.’

  That name sent Mick’s mind wandering. Danny’s mother had also been called Sarah.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Mick,’ said Sarah. She had an Irish accent, with a hint of Australian to it.