Rostipp won the scrum, and used their physical advantage to advance up the field play by play, metre by metre. Eoin looked across to Dylan, who shrugged his shoulders. Castlerock were getting pulverized, they needed to get the ball out of the forward battle and hope they got a bit of luck.
Their need for a bit of luck increased as Rostipp’s pressure led to a rolling maul which rolled right up to the Castlerock line with embarrassing ease. The No. 8 peeled off the back and touched down for the opening score.
‘We’re getting murdered up front, and the ref ’s too soft on them,’ grumbled Rory.
‘Forget the ref, there’s nothing we can do about that,’ snapped Eoin. ‘Let’s get the ball away from the forwards as much as we can and tackle everything that moves. If we keep them frustrated they’ll give away penalties and I’ll bet they fade in the last ten.’
Eoin knew that was easier said than done, but he also knew it was important to change things before Castlerock were swamped. The Rostipp back line was slow, but they tackled hard too and Eoin grew frustrated trying to break through their defence. The game became bogged down in the middle of the field and when the teams left for the half-time some spectators began whistling in complaint at the boredom.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ grinned Eoin as he and Dylan walked off. ‘We’ll have the crowd asleep by the last ten minutes – and then we’ll strike.’
Chapter 43
The second half continued as the first had ended, and Rostipp’s players did start to get annoyed. Whatever their coach had said to them at half-time wasn’t working, and they began to make silly errors. Eoin punished them from the kicking tee, so by half way through the second period Castlerock had brought the margin down to a single point, with the score standing at 7-6.
‘This is working,’ Dylan muttered as Eoin took a breather while Rostipp made a couple of substitutions.
‘Maybe,’ replied Eoin. ‘But our guys have taken an awful lot of punishment. We need to just keep going. Carey needs to bring on two new props though. The O’Sullivan brothers are strong and fit, just what we need right now.’ Dylan signalled to the coach, who seemed to agree because the substitution was made at the next break in play.
Jimmy and Archie were not the best props in the squad, but they were the bravest, most willing tacklers and their arrival proved a shock to Rostipp. In every attack the O’Sullivans were first to the ball-carrier and their power meant they floored the Rostippers.
Castlerock began to get more confidence in the scrum too, and when they won one against the head there was a huge roar from their supporters. With the Rostipp defence on the wrong foot, Rory went on a run that evaded three tacklers and took Castlerock into the 22.
Eoin put his hand on the ball at the back of the ruck and looked around. He spotted a gap down the side of the ruck and went for it, bringing the ball to ten metres from the posts.
He whispered into Rory’s ear: ‘I’m dropping back, give it to my right,’ before rushing back behind the centres. Rory zipped the ball back as Eoin had asked and the out-half had the extra tenth of a second he needed. He swung his boot back and connected perfectly just as the ball met the ground. It flew high and straight, soaring high above the posts underneath which the referee raised his left arm and blew his whistle.
Eoin got a few pats on the back for his three-pointer but hurried his team-mates back into their positions. The game still hung on a knife edge and he knew Rostipp had enough talent and power to get a winning score.
The Tipperary side were shocked at the scoreboard reverse and came back strongly – but Castlerock held firm. Dylan battled as hard as anyone else, putting his tiny body on the line.
With time running out Rostipp grew increasingly desperate and began taking risky moves. Eoin had always been aware of the chances of an interception, but he chose his moment perfectly. Roger Savage was tackled just outside the Castlerock 22 but without immediate support he looked to offload while off balance. Eoin swooped and snatched the ball from the air, dodged a tackle and set off down the field.
The full-back moved to tackle him, but Eoin saw Dylan coming up fast behind him and slipped him the ball. The winger was off free and made a dash for the posts alone, but as he reached them he turned and fired the ball back to Eoin.
‘But… the record,’ gasped Eoin.
‘Score!’ insisted Dylan, and Eoin touched the ball down.
The pair were instantly buried by a mountain of Castlerock team-mates – and one or two excited supporters – but Eoin shook them all off and prepared to take the conversion.
‘No pressure lad, this is the last kick,’ grinned the ref. ‘Just get it over and we can all go home.’
Eoin grinned back at him and took a glance towards the stand where his mum, dad and Dixie waved back at him. He looked up at the sky, savouring the moment, before he took aim and slotted the ball neatly between the uprights.
Again he became submerged in sweaty team-mates and collected a full set of hugs before the squad made its way in front of the grandstand. The stadium announcer called out the names of the beaten side who collected their medals before he began reading out the Castlerock team-sheet.
Eoin collected his shiny slice of metal and watched his team-mates collect theirs one by one before the replacements came up. ‘O’Sullivan, O’Sullivan, Phelan, Adams, Memery…’ went the announcer, building up to the climax when he would announce ‘… and the victorious captain, Dylan Coonan.’
But there was an extra name, which came just before Dylan’s: ‘analyst Alan Handy’ the announcer called, to loud cheers from the crowd and complete bewilderment from Alan who was not expecting to be honoured. Eoin cheered as Alan – his face by now bright red – collected his medal and hung it around his neck.
That left just one more presentation, and Dylan stepped forward and lifted the silver trophy high above his head, thrusting it into the air four times while the Castlerock supporters cheered. They continued showing their appreciation as Dylan led his players on a lap of honour, with each player getting a few seconds to carry the cup.
‘What were you doing giving away that try at the end,’ asked Eoin, as he jogged alongside his friend.
‘Ah, sure as you said it’s a team game. And I’m delighted to have played my part in our team winning it. You deserved the try more than anyone, and I would have felt terrible taking the record away from Dixie, who was a better player than I’ll ever be.’
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded,’ grinned Eoin, ‘but thanks, anyway. It was a lovely thing to do.’
Chapter 44
The winning Junior Cup team didn’t have long to rest on their laurels, as they were all reminded the following morning just how close the state exams were.
‘Now we’re all very grateful for your extraordinary victory yesterday,’ beamed Mr McCaffrey as the squad enjoyed a special breakfast in the staff dining room. ‘And your names will go down in the annals of Castlerock.
‘However, your parents and guardians have sent you here not just to play rugby football, but also to secure a good education – which means performing as well in the Junior Cert as you have in the Junior Cup.
‘And as you have sacrificed plenty of study time to sport over recent weeks, I expect to see you all redouble your efforts in the run into the exams.’
Dylan winked at Eoin. ‘No problem to you Eoin, I know you’ve been doing some sneaky study on the side.’
Eoin winced. ‘I wish. No, it’s hard work from here on – except for next Saturday of course.’
With Aviva Stadium out of commission, Ireland’s Six Nations fixture against England had been switched to the GAA stadium at Croke Park, and Eoin had some precious extra tickets for the game. As a thank you for what it called his heroism, the IRFU had invited Eoin to bring his entire family, friends and team-mates for lunch and to watch the game from a private box.
Even Richie Duffy was being friendly, although Eoin had already decided that he would be taking every member
of the squad along. He had a few spare seats, and decided to invite some of his fellow members of the Ireland squad too.
It was raining on the morning of the game, but Eoin still went out for his jog around the grounds before breakfast. It has been a couple of weeks since he had taken a detour to The Rock, but today he felt the need for a short breather. Slipping into the little haven he was struck by how bright it was, and how loud the tiny stream sounded as the water bubbled over the rocks. But in every other way it was peaceful, with no sign of life – or of after-life.
Eoin relaxed, taking a rare moment to himself to reflect on what he was going to do that day. He wondered about the ghosts who used to visit him there, but he had sense or feeling that they were not around anymore. If that was so, he would miss them, especially Brian, but he knew too that they needed their peace.
Chapter 45
Croke Park was much bigger than Aviva Stadium, but the IRFU had no problem selling the extra seats, even at short notice. The roar that greeted the teams sent a shiver up Eoin’s spine, and he turned and grinned at Dixie sitting beside him in the viewing box.
‘This is an amazing ground, isn’t it?’ said his grandfather. ‘I would have loved to have played here.’
The game was a tense, tight affair, as was expected with both sides looking to complete a rare Grand Slam after each had won their previous four games. At half-time he slipped back into the area of the box where there were refreshments for the guests. He asked for a cola and chatted about the game to Paddy and Sam.
‘The referee’s brutal,’ complained Paddy, whose father Simon laughed.
‘Every referee is brutal according to you,’ he chuckled. ‘I think he’s doing a decent job.’
Eoin nodded and reminded his pal how he had complained about all the officials in all the tournaments they had ever played in.
As they were chatting, a knock came to the door of the box, and the steward who answered called out Eoin’s name.
Standing outside in the hallway was Neil.
‘How are you Eoin,’ he grinned. ‘Enjoying the hospitality of the Union I hope?’
‘We are indeed,’ replied Eoin. ‘It’s a lovely day so far – just need the result to go our way and it will be perfect.’
Neil paused and looked up and down the corridor.
‘I was wondering… have you seen Brian lately?’ he asked, looking at the floor.
Eoin shrugged. ‘I’ve been looking but there’s no sign of him in his usual haunts. I haven’t been able to get into the Aviva of course.’
‘Yes, I understand. Although I heard today they’ve almost completed the work and it will be open again for the soccer internationals in June.’
‘That’s great news,’ said Eoin. ‘But I hope we don’t have to wait that long to see Brian.’
‘True. I must confess I’ve been thinking about it a lot since you told me. It’s a huge part of my family’s story… I hope I get to see him soon.’
Eoin said goodbye and slipped back into the box where he went around to check that all his guests were having fun.
For the second-half he sat with Alan and Dylan, and the trio enjoyed spotting the tactical moves develop and anticipating what might happen next. Alan had his notebook with him and scribbled notes at every opportunity.
‘I’m not sure there’s enough work as an analyst,’ he announced at one stage. ‘So, I might do a coaching course instead.’
Dylan and Eoin chuckled, but made sure to agree with their pal. ‘You’d be a brilliant coach,’ enthused Dylan.
They cheered as Ireland took the lead with their fourth penalty goal but England hit back immediately with a well-worked try. With five minutes left they still held the advantage, although Ireland were attacking inside their 22.
A line-out was being formed in the far corner of the ground, close to the terraces on Hill Sixteen, when Eoin spotted a familiar red, black and gold jersey among the replacements who were running along the touchline to follow the play.
‘There’s Brian!’ he gasped, pointing him out to Dylan and Alan, before checking that nobody else had heard him.
‘What’s he up to?’ asked Alan.
‘Is there another guy over there with him?’ asked Dylan.
Eoin stared closely and reckoned Dylan was right. Another player in old fashioned long shorts and a green jumper was standing alongside Brian. They seemed to be pointing at the players and making suggestions about the game, although nobody seemed to be listening.
Ireland took a long throw from the line-out, and the powerful centre picked up the loose ball and crashed through a couple of tackles before he was brought down close to the line. Eoin and his friends – and most of the 82,000 spectators – were on their feet roaring as the ruck was contested. After a few seconds, the ball squirted out on the Irish side and was gathered by the scrum-half. He had half a second to decide but opted to dive straight for the tiny gap in the enormous defence.
He made it, grounding the ball before he was crushed by a mountain of players, but rose again moments later with a huge grin on his face. Eoin hugged Dylan as everyone dressed in green in the ground danced a jig of delight.
The final whistle soon blew and more joy spread across the stadium. Being the last game of the season, a trophy presentation was required and a team of workers soon assembled the platform in the middle of the pitch.
As the Castlerock boys watched, another man came to the door of their box and asked for Eoin. It was the IRFU official he had first told about the damage to the Aviva Stadium.
‘Eoin, my boss told me to come over here and give you these,’ he started, handing him three plastic badges hanging from green ribbons. ‘This is a historic occasion and it has gone off without a hitch, even the result was right. You played a huge part in ensuring this was the case, and these badges will get you on to the pitch below for the celebrations. Go down there and meet your heroes, and enjoy the fun.’
Eoin’s eyes widened, and after he had thanked the man, he rushed back to tell Dylan and Alan he wanted them to come with him. The boys could barely keep from screaming with delight as they passed through the various checkpoints waving the precious passes.
Out on the field, they were in time to see the Six Nations trophy being handed over, and the fireworks exploding into the night sky. The first flash lit up the field and he spotted Neil standing on the touchline in his IRFU tracksuit.
‘Hey Neil, how did you get out here?’ laughed Alan.
‘Ah, they were keeping me in reserve in case the head coach got food poisoning’ he replied, with a big grin on his face. ‘I see you got some top notch passes there.’
The boys wandered around, but kept away from the players who were enjoying their deserved victory. Eoin spotted Brian again, and ran back to find Neil.
‘Come with me quickly,’ he said, ushering him down towards the Hill end. ‘Can you see anything?’ he asked Neil, as he pointed to where Brian seemed to be playing football with the other figure.
‘Not a thing. Is Brian down here?’
Eoin called out to his ghostly pal, who stopped and turned.
‘Eoin, how are you? That was some finish to the game, wasn’t it?’
‘It was,’ he agreed. ‘It was an amazing win.’
He explained to Brian that the man standing ten metres away was the Under 16 coach, and that he really wanted to meet him.
Brian shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t really get to choose who I meet,’ he explained. ‘You were the first for many years, although I know some of your chums were able to see me too. Who is this man, Neil?’
Eoin called Neil over, and introduced them to each other, but frustratingly they were unable to connect.
‘I can’t see anything Eoin,’ sighed Neil.
‘I can see him though,’ said Brian. ‘And the other 80,000 people staring down at us right now. Why does he want to see me?’
Eoin looked Brian in the eye. ‘Because he’s your great, great nephew,’ he told him.
‘We’ve a lot to talk about,’ said Neil, staring at the long-dead rugby player. ‘Let’s go find a quiet corner.’
The pair walked away side by side, leaving Eoin, Alan and Dylan open-mouthed at what they had just witnessed. Eoin realised the man who had been kicking ball with Brian was still there, and asked him how he had got there.
‘I’m a ghost too,’ he grinned. ‘I recognised a kindred spirit in Brian – and his Tipperary accent too. I hear a bit of one in you too, where are you from?’
‘Ormondstown,’ Eoin told him, ‘in the north of the county.’
‘Ah, I’m from down the other end, near Kilkenny,’ he replied. ‘Grangemockler it’s called.’
‘And what are you doing here?’ asked Eoin.
‘Ah, well I’ve something else in common with Brian, I suppose,’ replied the man. ‘This is the place I died too – they even named a stand after me here. My name is Hogan, Michael Hogan. But that’s another story.’
Author’s Note
Sheepishly, I must confess that I co-wrote (with Malachy Clerkin) the history of Lansdowne Road that Eoin gets for Christmas (Lansdowne Road: The Stadium; the matches; the greatest days, Malachy Clerkin and Gerard Siggins, The O’Brien Press). And as Alan and Eoin discover, there were indeed two small streams that once ran underneath what is now Aviva Stadium. However, the new stadium was built to the highest standards and there is no chance of a sink hole developing, such as I wrote in this novel.
The book also tells more of the life of Henry Dunlop, the interesting man whose vision and drive ensured we have a wonderful sports ground beside the River Dodder.
Rugby Heroes Page 11