The Legends

by Robert E. Connolly

  Despite his current growth Margaret had decided that it was improbable that Brian would grow taller than six feet but she suspected that his final height would be within an inch or two of that mark. Whatever about his height or physical structure, Margaret had no doubt that he would be a fine looking man, nor did she doubt that his kindness and good nature were a permanent part of his character.

  As usual, Brian greeted Margaret with a big kiss on the cheek while Gráinne furiously wagged her tail. Since he had grown taller and stronger, Brian had developed the habit of picking the old woman up as he hugged her tightly…but not too tightly. As Margaret gloried in the greeting she could not help to marvel at the combination of factors, parents perhaps three thousand years old and intelligent and loving foster parents in a modern rural environment, which produced this wonderful young man.

  Since the day was fine, Margaret directed Brian to her garden table and hurried inside to produce the milk and cookies that had become a tradition. Gráinne too, anticipating her treat, sat patiently next to Brian facing the door from which Margaret would soon emerge.

  After they settled in their chairs, Margaret commented on how well Brian looked and asked him how school was going.

  “Couldn’t be better,” Brian replied, the remnants of his first drink of milk clinging to the sides of his mouth. “Actually I enjoy my classes more than grade school because the teachers treat us more like grownups. Of course the work is harder but I guess all those study hours my mom and dad make me put up with are paying off in the long run. I guess it is easier to concentrate when you know what the teachers are talking about.”

  “And what is your favorite subject?” Margaret asked.

  It certainly didn’t take Brian long to answer that question, “History, definitely.”

  “That was my favorite subject as well,” Margaret said. “Although back when I studying years and years ago, there was a lot less history to learn about.”

  “Ah Mrs. O’Neill,” Brian replied with a smile, “you aren’t that old, and besides I’m sure you had to study about the ancient Celts and that is my favorite bit so far.”

  “Yes,” she said in mock seriousness, “I think I did come after the ancient Celts. And what is your teacher like?”

  Brian replied, “I have a really neat teacher called Miss Byrne and when she tells us things, it is really like listening to a story. Plus we all talk about why things happened so it is more than just memorizing dates and events like in grade school. That makes it much more interesting.”

  “And do you talk about things as well?” Margaret asked trying to hide her surprise.

  Brian, thinking about his class participation, blushed slightly. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” he said definitely. “Not all the time, but once in a while anyway.”

  Margaret smiled placing her hand across her young friend’s arm, “Of course. You must also give the other students a chance to speak.”

  “Exactly,” Brian replied with a broad smile. He knew that Mrs. O’Neill realized exactly how shy he was and that speaking up in class was something he was reluctant to do. A bit more seriously he continued, “But I do add the odd comment here and there.”

  Margaret responded, “That is very good to hear because participating in class is an important part of the learning process and it sounds like your Miss Byrne knows all about that. What type of things do you talk about?”

  Brian thought about that for a moment before answering, “Oh you know all kinds of things. The first time I said anything a few weeks back I was really scared that I might say something wrong or that the other kids would laugh at me but after a while I realized that everyone says things that are wrong and everyone laughs when that happens so it is nothing to worry about. That first time, though, I think I was right and so no one laughed.”

  “And what did you talk about?” Margaret asked.

  “You know,” Brian replied scratching his head, “that is a funny one. Miss Byrne was talking about the ancient Celts, you know three thousand years ago and she asked if anyone could tell what life was like for those people. Well, no one seemed to have any ideas and I don’t know what came over me but the next thing I knew my hand was up in the air. I thought Miss Byrne was going to die of the shock of it because I hadn’t said anything before that.”

  “So what made you put your hand up,” Margaret prompted.

  Brian answered, “Now that’s the funny bit. For some reason I actually knew the answer. I don’t know how, but it seemed that I knew what life was like for the ancient Celts… at least some of it. I know that Miss Byrne wanted us to use our imagination in trying to figure out what life was like and I guess she thought that was what I was doing. But the thing is, I had never given it much thought and I would never have said a word if imagination was all there was to it. It was like I opened my mouth and out it came, without me hardly thinking about it.”

  Margaret suddenly remembered her visions those many years ago before Brian came into her life. She could see herself holding the tiny baby with the extraordinarily perceptive eyes. If the boy’s background was what she and Evelyn suspected, however improbable, Margaret wondered exactly how many of those perceptions were indelibly etched in his subconscious. While those thoughts were still being teased out in her mind, Margaret realized that the conversation had stopped and Brian was looking at her with some concern.

  Quickly recovering, she said, “I was just thinking about what you said and life among the ancient Celts. What kind of things did you tell the class about?”

  Brian thought back to his classroom experience, “Now that I think about it, what I told the class about was what someone might see or smell or hear if they ended up in a Celtic house three thousand years ago. Even though we read about other things later, I didn’t say anything about how they grew crops or made bread or made jewelry out of gold or fought battles because those things didn’t occur to me. All I could think about was seeing, hearing and especially smelling. I think the other students enjoyed that bit because can you imagine the smell of a place that was always full of smoke and where no one took a bath, at least in the winter. Some of the others were still talking about the smell for days after and we all got a great laugh out of it.”

  “Well, whatever you might think of it,” Margaret responded, “it seems to me that you must have a very good imagination.”

  “Maybe so,” Brian said thoughtfully, “but the thing is it didn’t seem like I was talking from what I imagined. It seemed like I was talking from what I remembered and that is what made it seem so real. Don’t you think that is strange Mrs. O’Neill?”

  “Indeed I do, Brian. Indeed I do,” Margaret answered. “But the important thing is that you participated and shared what you thought with the class and, in that way, everyone learned something. I think that is what Miss Byrne wanted to happen.”

  “I think you are right, Mrs. O’Neill,” Brian said with some conviction.

  “So have you had anything else to say in the class?” Margaret asked.

  “Well,” he replied slowly, “I am still a little shy about saying anything but it isn’t as bad as it was before the first time. I do say something now and again but I have never been so positive about what I was saying as I was that first time. It’s ok though because I am not as afraid to say something that is wrong, now that I have said something that was right.”

  “Now that’s a very good attitude,” Margaret replied rubbing the boy’s forearm. “Now tell me, how are your friends the O’Donnells.”

  “Kate and Libby? Of course they are doing fine. When I am not playing sports or working out, I sometimes hang out with their gang and they don’t seem to mind. Kate is very popular at school. Of course she is very pretty and with Libby around there is always lots of fun and stuff. There are a few other regulars like Charlie Pembroke who I guess is Kate’s best friend.”

  “Oh, yes, Charlie the soccer player is that right?” Margaret asked.

  Brian’s tell tale blush neede
d little interpretation. “Yes, she is probably the best player on the girls’ team, both under sixteen and seniors. She is mostly left-footed, which other girls aren’t used to and she is also very fast so she is fun to watch. I think she is probably better than her brother Chad, although you wouldn’t want to mention that to him.”

  Margaret smiled at her young friend’s attempt at nonchalance. “Tell me this. How is your friend Chad?”

  This time Brian smiled and shook his head. “Well you know, Chad is Chad. At least he doesn’t call me “my small friend” any more. But he still thinks he is a much better soccer player than he really is. In fairness he has scored a few goals in practice matches and when that happens, there is no living with him because he relives every detail with anyone who will listen. Fortunately Kate and Charlie are pretty good at straightening him out.”

  “Well maybe that is just his way of trying to be popular and make friends,” Margaret offered.

  Brian thought about that for a moment before replying, “Maybe so. Chad is not that easy to figure out. I think he kinda likes Kate because he talks about her often enough. But then sometimes he pretends like she isn’t there and spends loads of time talking to another girl called Siobhán. Now that doesn’t bother Kate in the slightest but I know her well enough to know that trying to make her jealous isn’t going to make Kate like him any better. Who knows, maybe it is Siobhán he is interested in after all. You never know with Chad.”

  “So do you… ah… hang out with Chad?” Margaret asked.

  “Not really,” Brian replied, “except when I am with the gang and he happens to be along. The thing is he is into all sorts of things like television, video games and music and I couldn’t be bothered with all that. I would rather be working on my soccer or hurling or running with Gráinne or even just working out with the weights my dad gave me last Christmas. We are just interested in different things.”

  “I can understand that,” Margaret replied. “But you know he is also new to the area and he didn’t go to the local grade school here so he could be a bit lonely even though he might not show it. I think you should be especially nice to him, just in case, after all, you are teammates.”

  “You know me,” Brian said with a smile. “I try to be nice to everyone. Even though it can be a little tough with Chad, I will do my best.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Margaret said, again marveling at the wonderful young man who had actually said he loved her and called Margaret his granny.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The success of St. Killians’ Soccer Team, led by their young superstar, created a predictable interest in the program. In prior years the team would consider itself lucky if more than a dozen supporters stood near the touch lines watching the matches and most of them would have been related to the players. As the word of the team’s success spread that number grew so significantly that spectators were now three and four deep along the lines and, in their efforts to see the action, were making it difficult for the linesmen.

  Although unexpected expenditures were the last thing that the principal needed, Brian Freeman ordered the erection of temporary stands at the school’s field to keep supporters and curious on-lookers from spilling out onto the pitch. In truth, he had little choice and now Mr. Freeman’s difficulty was replacing the expenditure in his already tight budget. He even seriously considered passing a basket like they do in the church. On a positive note, as his vice-principal Pauline Dwyer pointed out, the publicity would certainly do the school no harm. He did, however, draw the line at a request by the media that they should be provided with an elevated platform at the top of the bleachers, equipped with tables and chairs, from which they could report on the action.

  While most of the supporters were attracted by the team’s recent results there were a few who had backed the team from the first match. Charlie Pembroke, an excellent soccer player in her own right, had always attended her brother’s matches. Because her loyalty was not usually reciprocated by Chad supporting her efforts, and because she had better things to do with her time, Charlie decided that she might attend, if it was convenient. But then Brian O’Sullivan appeared on the scene and her curiosity overcame her annoyance with Chad.

  Since she didn’t want to appear to be too interested, she talked Kate and Libby O’Donnell, Siobhán Tierney, Maeve O’Brien and a couple of other girls into joining her. Charlie knew Siobhán had a thing for her brother, so that was no problem, but Kate and Libby and never seen a soccer match and hadn’t the slightest interest in the sport so that was a bit more difficult. Ultimately, she convinced Libby that Brian would really love it if she supported the team, knowing full well that where Libby went, Kate was sure to follow. After that first match, however, Kate was a willing participant. And as for Libby, she was always the first supporter at the field and when the stands were erected, she claimed the best seats, the top two rows in the center of the pitch, for the girls.

  As a result, the other girls could make their way at their own pace assured that the seats would be waiting for them. Of course it didn’t take long for the other students to recognize that those particular seats were reserved, even if Libby was not there to make the point. As for Libby, she was not the slightest bit bothered by the fact that she had to sit alone for at least a half-hour before the match, because Brian always came over and spoke to her and just before the kick-off he waved up to her in the stands.

  One crisp cold autumn afternoon the girls sat huddled together in their accustomed seats. Although there was still a bit of warmth in bright sunshine, the chill in the air reminded everyone that winter was not far off. On the pitch, the referee blew his whistle and the match began.

  Charlie watched the match intently, a true student of the game, while the other girls chatted about any number of things. When they first started attending, Charlie was annoyed with her friends because she couldn’t understand how anyone would make the effort to brave the elements and then not watch the match. After a few matches, however, she didn’t mind because she was perfectly willing to trade the girls’ company for their total lack of appreciation for soccer. Occasionally, however, she was surprised.

  “It's hard to believe, Charlie” Kate said quietly on one such occasion, “that the fellow in the middle of the pitch, is our Brian. It’s like, like he’s totally in charge, no question about it.”

  Charlie smiled without taking her eyes off the match, “For a boy who wouldn’t say boo off the pitch something must happen to him when he crosses the line. Look at him directing traffic, even telling the seniors where they should go.”

  Hearing the last remark, Maeve leaned over and said, “I’d like to tell a few seniors where they should go as well.” Both Kate and Charlie shook their heads in unison.

  Just then Brian anticipated a lane opening up and his pass was perfectly timed to meet the onrushing striker who found himself with a clear path to the goal. As the crowd roared, he took two touches but just as he was ready to shoot, he lifted his head at the last moment and his strong shot passed well over the bar. The crowd groaned while the striker banged himself on the forehead, fully aware of his mistake. When he looked up to Brian to apologize for blowing a perfect opportunity, he was greeted with an encouraging smile and handclap as the young midfielder back peddled into position for the goal kick.

  “See that,” Charlie said encouraged by Kate’s interest in what was occurring on the pitch. “Brian saw that passing lane open even before it was there and the pass could not have been more perfect. But then that shot… terrible… you just can’t lift your head or the ball will go high every time.”

  The technical comment was a bit beyond Kate’s comprehension, but she had her own observation, “Did you see how that senior, Stephen, looked at our Brian like he was begging forgiveness for messing up the shot and then there is Brian telling him it was alright. Who would have thought it?”

  Not to be left out, Libby added, “You know what I heard. I heard some of the older boys saying the Bri.
. Bri.. is a legend. What do you think that means? I thought legends were old or dead.”

  Kate turned to her sister and replied, “It’s like slang Libby. It means he is a better player than everyone else, not that he is old or dead.”

  “He is good, isn’t he?” Libby said happily.

  “Oh he’s good all right. And will you look at his body,” Maeve said. “Look at the definition in his legs and then there is his rear end. Did you ever see anything so beautiful?”

  All the girls smiled at the remark, even Kate, but she quickly replied, “What are you like Maeve? Will you ever get off the stage? People will hear you.”

  “Just what I would expect out of you,” Maeve replied with mischievous grin not the slightest bit concerned that she might be overheard, “but I dare you to say it isn’t true.”

  Kate said nothing but rolled her eyes, which sent everyone into a fit of giggles.

  Charlie looked over at her friends and said, “You know girls, there is a fairly good match going on out there, if you would care to look.”

  Just then Brian launched a perfect pass from nearly the center circle toward the right flag. Chad Pembroke was playing the wing and he gathered the ball in stride and headed toward the corner. Chad lost his opportunity for a quick cross as the defender scurried back into position. Still in possession, Chad faced the defender faked to the left and attempted to dribble around his opponent. Unfortunately, he was quickly dispossessed and his plea to the referee for a foul was totally ignored. He stood for a moment with a shocked look on his face but when he realized that no one was paying any attention he hustled back to defense. In the stands, Charlie shook her head and covered her eyes.

  Siobhán, however, was quick to come to Chad’s defense. “Did you see that Charlie? Chad was hacked. Why didn’t the ref blow the whistle?”

  If she expected sympathy from the player’s sister, Siobhán was mistaken. “Actually,” Charlie replied, “Chad should have crossed the ball immediately because he had two teammates in the box but either he wasn’t good enough to do that or he decided to put on a show and he definitely wasn’t good enough to do that. In the end, he ran into the defender not the other way around. That would never be called a foul and I am a little embarrassed for his whining about it.”