Rugby Spirit (2 page)

H
is first day as a pupil of Castlerock College passed quickly for Eoin. It was funny having a different teacher for each subject, and they all singled him out for attention as ‘the new boy’, but they all seemed very nice as they settled into the new school year.

He stuck close by the rest of his room-mates,
exchanging
no more than the odd ‘hi’ with the rest of the class.

The last class of the day was History, and Eoin was already starting to yawn before the teacher even walked into the classroom. He wasn’t used to these longer schooldays, and he was itching for some fresh air and a bit of a run-around.

‘My, my, there’s a healthy set of tonsils,’ announced the teacher who had suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Eoin went bright red.

‘I assure you that you won’t be yawning by the end of my highly-stimulating class,’ the teacher smiled. ‘And
you, of course, must be young Madden.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he confirmed, for the eighth time that day.

Eoin smiled thinly at the man, who was tiny and seemed
very
old indeed.

Richie Duffy raised his head and turned back to stare at Eoin. He looked puzzled.

‘I must say, it is a great honour to be teaching a second member of such an illustrious family,’ said the teacher.

Richie looked even more bewildered.

‘Do you young gentlemen know that I once played scrum-half to the greatest out-half this school has ever seen?,’ the teacher asked the room.

‘Yes, sir,’ the class chorused. ‘You tell us this story
every
year.’

‘Well, you may not know this yet, but the grandson of the great Richard “Dixie” Madden is sitting among you.’

The class turned as one and stared at Eoin, who felt his red face get hotter and feared it must now look almost purple.

‘Wow,’ said a couple of boys. ‘That’s really cool.’

‘Tell us about him, Eoin,’ said Kevin, sensing a chance to delay having to open the books at the Tudor
Plantation
.

Eoin wanted the desk to open and swallow him up.
He felt his face turn from red to white.

‘OK, gentlemen, settle down,’ said the teacher, sensing Eoin’s discomfort. ‘There’ll be plenty of chances to hear all about the Senior Cup Team of 1964. For now, let us turn to page one of your reader and that loveable rogue Henry the Eighth. If you behave yourselves I’ll tell you all about the bits they wouldn’t put in the sixth-class textbook.’

Eoin greatly enjoyed Mr Finn’s colourful History class, a subject he hadn’t previously had any interest in at all.

As the class ended, the teacher asked him to stay back for a moment.

‘I just wanted to apologise for putting you on the spot like that. I should have known better. I haven’t seen Dixie for a few years now, but my guess is that he has never told you of his exploits on the rugby-football field. He was always very reticent about blowing his own trumpet. A very modest man, very private …’ his voice trailed away. ‘Now, off to Mr Carey with you. He’s a great coach and will bring to the fore any rugby genes you’ve inherited. Best of luck and, again, my apologies.’

Eoin dumped his books in his desk and, grabbing his kitbag, dashed out to the sports ground where some of his class were already tossing the ball around.

An enormous man with a clipboard was standing outside the changing room, ticking off the names as the boys ran out.

‘…. Duffy, Handy, O’Leary, Swarbrigg, Hardiman, Vincent … That seems to be everyone.’

Eoin dashed past him into the changing room.

‘Hello! Who are you and why are you late?’ asked the coach.

‘I’m Eoin Madden, sir. I’m sorry, but Mr Finn kept me back and—’

‘—Well Mr Madden,’ interrupted the coach. ‘That’s not a great start is it? In trouble with the teachers on day one, and now late for rugby practice. If a player is late for my practices he is automatically dropped down to the team below. Of course that doesn’t really apply as you’re starting on the 13Cs anyway. Just don’t be late
ever
again.’

Eoin opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it.

‘Yes, sir,’ he replied as he turned into the dressing room to change into his green and white kit.

By the time he ran out onto the field Mr Carey had already divided the boys into three groups of about twenty. He pointed Eoin in the direction of the third group, the largest, which included Alan and Rory and seemed to have more boys wearing glasses than he had
ever seen on any sports team.

‘Glad to have such rugby pedigree on our humble team,’ joked Alan as Eoin joined the 13Cs.

‘All right, settle down,’ roared Mr Carey. ‘And
welcome
back to you all, and a special welcome to our new 13C star, Mr Madden.’

Eoin glared at Richie Duffy, who he saw sniggering in the first group.

‘OK, as it’s the first day back we’ll have a practice match between the As and Bs after we do our warm-up. I hope you all worked a bit on your handling skills in the summer. I’ll take a look at the 13Cs and see if there’s any bit of talent here I haven’t noticed before.’

After the boys warmed up Mr Carey directed the 13Cs to the second pitch and asked a sixth year to
referee
the 13A v 13B game.

‘Now gentlemen, you have to remember that we’re not playing mini-rugby anymore. This is the real thing, or as near the real thing as most of you will ever get. The Cs will be playing one game a week, and I expect all of you to turn out for every training session. This school is going to win a Leinster cup in the next few years, and although it’s highly unlikely that any of you lot will be on the team, it’s important that you work hard at your game to give the school greater strength in depth.’

‘Encouraging, isn’t he?’ whispered Eoin to Alan. 

‘All right, let’s divide you up into forwards and backs,’ said Mr Carey, directing the boys into two groups. Eoin was pointed towards Alan and Rory.

‘What does this mean, guys?’ he asked.

‘You’re in the backs with us,’ replied Rory. ‘It’s a lot easier than being up front with forwards with your head wedged between two bums.’

‘Right, forwards – off you go to Mr Doyle over there. He’ll run you through your paces. The rest of you, come with me.’

M
r Carey gathered the 13C backs together in the lower end of the rugby field.

‘Right lads, we’re going to line up two sets of backs and practise a few running and passing drills. Nothing fancy, keep it simple.’

He handed out green and orange bibs, quickly
allotted
the players their positions, and they all scurried off into place.

‘Madden, you go full-back.’

Eoin hesitated, wishing Alan hadn’t started his rugby lesson with the forwards the night before.

‘Where’s that, sir?’

‘Gosh, you’re a bit raw, aren’t you,’ said Mr Carey. ‘You’re at the back there, right in the middle. We’ll just use half the pitch so stand on the half-way line to start with.’

The teacher tossed the ball to Rory, the scrum-half,
who passed it to the out-half who moved it on to the inside centre. The ball travelled out along the back line to the winger, before it came all the way back again. After two or three turns the ball was passed over to Eoin’s team who did the same exercise.

When the ball first came to Eoin he was surprised how easy it was to catch hold of it and pass it on. The awkward shape came comfortably into your arms if you didn’t snatch at it. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all.

A couple of the boys fumbled their passes or dropped the ball, but Eoin was delighted that he had so far
managed
to do everything right.

‘Right, I want the orange bibs team to do it now, with the green team defending. Just touch tackling now, nothing too rough,’ said Mr Carey.

The ball went along the line again, with the players having to pass the ball as soon as one of the green team touched him. Eoin was fast on his feet and was able to stop most attacks in their tracks.

‘OK now, let’s change it around,’ shouted the coach, ‘I want to see a bit more commitment from you guys.’

The green team out-half, a nervous-looking boy called Edward Robinson came under pressure from his opposite number and hurled the ball hard and high over his right shoulder. The inside centre had to leap in the
air to try to reach the ball, but only succeeded in
tapping
it even higher, in the direction of the full-back.

Eoin sensed the orange players charging towards him, but with a powerful kick of his heels he leapt high into the air. He was so excited by the action that he just couldn’t stop what happened next.

He reached for the ball, far above the outstretched arms of the other boys, and held tight as it came into his hands. He descended to earth, where he looked at the bewildered faces of the boys in orange. With a quick sidestep he dodged around the opposition before he kicked the ball out of his hands towards the goalposts.

The game stopped, with players on both sides staring open-mouthed as the ball floated high over the crossbar.

‘Oh no, what was that?’ asked Alan, through gritted teeth.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Mr Carey, with far greater volume. ‘This isn’t Croke Bloody Park!’

Eoin felt two feet tall, and shrank even further when he heard the guffawing from the touchline, where the 13As and Bs were watching.

‘Moooooooo,’ went Richie Duffy, as the rest of his gang followed up with more farmyard noises.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I forgot where I was for a moment,’ Eoin blurted.

Carey stopped for a moment, staring at Eoin.

‘OK, son, just remember this is rugby. We have a bit of work to do with you yet.’

He turned towards the oinking spectators on the touchline.

‘All right you lot, the show’s over. Get back to work. Extra laps for the last man I see.’

The coach turned back to the Cs.

‘You boys can knock off for the day. I’m quite impressed – there’s hope for some of you. Madden, come to see me after homework.’

Eoin grimaced again, as his first day at Castlerock just seemed to get worse and worse.

In the changing room he was silent, refusing to respond to Rory’s gentle ribbing. Alan hung back
afterwards
.

‘You OK, Eoin? That was a bit mad what you did, but it was pretty impressive too. Cheer up, it will be easier from now on.’

Eoin shrugged, keeping his thoughts to himself as the pair walked back to school.

Homework was easy enough, with just a small amount of written work for the first day back. All through the study period, however, Eoin kept thinking about his leap for the high ball and how dopey he had been.

‘Still,’ he laughed to himself, ‘that was some point. That would have brought the house down if I’d done it for Ormondstown in the county final!’

E
oin stood up and yawned.

‘Better get this over with,’ he grinned at Alan, who wished him luck.

He scurried down the stairs to the ground floor, where the staff room was situated next to the
headmaster’s
office. He knocked once, and the door opened immediately.

‘Good evening, Mr Madden,’ said the rugby coach, who towered over him. ‘Let’s take a walk.’

Mr Carey led the way out the main door and out towards the rugby field. He stopped at the nearest touchline.

‘We got off on the wrong foot today, so let’s leave that behind us. As you know, my name is Brendan Carey, and I’m in charge of coaching rugby for all the sides up to the Junior Cup team. I won’t be seeing much more of the 13Cs to be honest, but then again neither will you,
I expect.’

Eoin gulped, ‘Well … I enjoyed playing with them, they’re a nice bunch of lads.’

‘Look, Madden, I’m a firm believer in great rugby players being born, not made. The great players that came through here? I spotted them all on their very first day. Even in your, eh,
moment of madness
today you showed extraordinary ability at two very important aspects of the game, catching and kicking. Once you settle in and learn the game I’ll put you up to the Bs. I fully expect you to be on the 13As by Christmas.’

Eoin stared at his shoes. ‘Well, sir, as you might have guessed, that was the first time I ever played rugby. I don’t know how I could be any good.’

‘Listen, Madden,’ replied the coach, ‘like everyone else here I’ve heard all the stories about your grandfather. If great rugby players are born, well, you certainly have a head start on anyone else. However, we have a bit of schooling to do with you on the ins and outs of the game.’ He took a small, green book from his pocket. ‘This is a bit out of date, none of the experimental laws are in it – actually, I think it still says it’s four points for a try and that went out about twenty years ago – but it will give you the basics.’

He handed the book to Eoin who looked at the tatty
cover.
Rugby for Young Players: a guide by Andrew Finn
.

‘Your History teacher, Mr Finn, wrote it,’ explained the coach. ‘He was a fine player in his day.’

Eoin thanked Mr Carey and promised he would look after it.

‘You can hang onto if you like. These days we get boxes of DVDs, folders and action packs sent out by the IRFU every season. But I think Mr Finn’s book is a great primer for a lad new to the game. Right then, off you go, and I’ll see you at training on Wednesday.’

The coach turned and walked to his car, which was parked on the kerb. Eoin smiled as he realised it was the same make and model as his dad’s. Maybe there were families and people just like him in Dublin after all.

Clutching the little green book, Eoin took the stairs two at a time on his way to the dorm.

Eoin pressed his fingers against his grandfather’s name and whispered ‘thanks’ as he opened the door.

‘OK, bud,’ said Alan as he entered. ‘How did it go?’

‘Well…’ started Eoin. ‘I’m still not sure. I thought I was going to get a lashing, but instead he told me I was a pretty good player. In the end he gave me a book!’

Alan’s eyes widened. ‘You jammy sucker,’ he chuckled. ‘Bandy Carey can be very tough on anyone he doesn’t like. It looks like your luck is holding.’

‘Yeah, but I suppose he did give me some extra study,’ Eoin said as he tossed the little green book on the bed. ‘How about you fill me in a bit on what the backs do, Alan? It might have been more useful today than that forwards stuff.’

‘Yeah, I was thinking that when you were doing your Henry Shefflin stuff …’

‘Henry Shefflin? He’s a hurler! Does anyone up here know anything about Gaelic games? It was
football
I was playing down in Ormondstown. And I wasn’t a bad footballer, either.’

‘Well,’ said Alan, ‘You better forget all that stuff till next summer. This is rugby town and you’re about to become a fully paid-up citizen. I’ll draw you the way the backs line up again,’ he said, reaching for another copybook.

‘So, 15 is the full-back, where you were playing today. Guys who play there have to be able to catch the high balls and have a good boot to kick the ball clear. Then comes the three-quarters line,’ he said, drawing a line between the numbers 14, 13, 12 and 11. The outside ones are usually the speed merchants, the left wing and right wing, while the ones in the middle are called the centres – see here they’re called inside centre and
outside
centre.

‘The inside centre is called that because he’s just inside when the out-half passes the ball back.

‘That pair at 9 and 10 are called the half-backs,’ he said, drawing another line. ‘They are the link between the backs and the forwards, and teams pretty much run the game from there.

‘The No.9 is the scrum-half, usually a small, nippy player. He’s the one who puts the ball into the scrum and then collects it when it comes out his side. It’s the same after line-outs, too. He’s got to be quick and tough to dodge the big forwards who come charging at him.’

‘Oh yeah, that’s what Peter Stringer does for Munster, isn’t it?’ asked Eoin.

Alan grinned, ‘Yeah, but he’s not the main man
anymore
. A great player though.’

He turned back to the diagram. ‘And then there’s the No.10, the out-half. He is the play-maker on the
team. As long as the scrum-half gets the ball back to him quickly, he can make all the calls on whether he kicks, runs or passes. If you have a good out-half you’re well on your way to a winning team. Ireland and Munster had Ronan O’Gara these past few years and look how well they did.’

Eoin nodded, recognising O’Gara’s name.

‘You saw the way Carey got us to sling the ball along the line today. That can be spectacular in a game. Just getting the ball out, beating their backs and with luck getting it out to our fastest runner on the wing, who can fly over for a try. That’s the theory anyway.’

‘So what position do you think he’ll get me to play?’ asked Eoin.

‘I don’t know, you’d make a pretty good full-back, but with your size and good hands you’d be a good centre too. Maybe even an out-half when you get the hang of it.’

Eoin yawned. ‘Sorry, I’m not yawning at you. It’s just been a long day.’

‘Me too,’ said Alan, ‘I’m whacked.’

Eoin eventually hopped into bed before the rest of his room-mates had even come back upstairs. He opened the first page of the little green book and read the title once again. Before he had even got to
the word ‘Finn’ his eyes were shut and his first school day was over.