full back and made a couple of tackles and one good catch under a garryowen, but that was all he saw of the play in twenty minutes on the field.
Devin sought him out after training, laying his arm across Eoin’s shoulder and telling him to stay focused, that his time was coming.
‘Thanks,’ Eoin shrugged, ‘but I’d probably be better off playing the rest of the season on the 14s.’
‘No you wouldn’t,’ insisted Devin. ‘This is a lot tougher, better training, more competitive games. You don’t realise it now, but you’re becoming a better player every day. Stick at it, you’ll get your chance. I’m certain of it.’
The following weekend Eoin and Dylan went home to Ormondstown. Because they had both turned fourteen their parents decided they could travel on the bus, as long as they stayed together. It was quite an adventure for the pair – their new independence was very exciting.
‘Any plans for the weekend?’ Dylan asked.
‘Eat, sleep and watch some TV that doesn’t involve sharing the remote with sixty other people,’ Eoin laughed.
‘Yeah, I’m wrecked. Need some home cooking and nothing much else. Catch you around the town maybe?’
‘Yeah, maybe a bag of chips tomorrow, say six o’clock?’
Eoin’s dad was there at the bus-stop, and he dropped Dylan home too. Caoimhe waved at them from the window.
Eoin had the lazy weekend he had hoped for, tucking into shepherd’s pie and roast beef and enjoying the simple pleasures of being home with his mum and dad. He called around to see Dixie, too, and naturally asked his grandfather had he heard of Kevin Barry.
‘Sure I did, indeed. Your grandmother used to sing a ballad about him. “Just a lad of eighteen summers…”’ he sang.
‘I’m doing a project about him,’ Eoin said. ‘And as you were so useful last year…’
‘Ha! Now, don’t say that. Your hard work won that competition for you. But to be honest, I don’t know much about him. He played a bit of rugby, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, for Belvo,’ Eoin replied. ‘He was from Carlow originally.’
‘Ah, yes.’ said Dixie, ‘I met a man once who knew him from down there. Said he was a quiet fellow, a serious type.’
‘Still is,’ said Eoin, before he realised what he had said.
Dixie looked at Eoin strangely.
‘I mean, I mean … he still was when he was up in Dublin,’ said Eoin. ‘I found a book about him that said that too.’
‘Well, that book should help you write your project then,’ said Dixie. ‘They were terrible times he lived through. He wouldn’t have been much older than yourself when he joined the rebels. Some people thought Ireland wouldn’t win its independence without a fight, others preferred to do it through politics. In the end it took a bit of both, but it took many years to heal the scars of those times. A lot of mothers buried their sons – on all sides.’
Eoin told his grandad about the rugby season so far, and how he had spent more time watching the games than playing in them.
‘It’s funny,’ said his grandad, ‘when I played there was no such thing as replacements. Back then they brought them in for injuries only. Nowadays it seems as if it’s a twenty-three man game. I get a bit confused watching on television sometimes.’
Eoin laughed ‘But don’t get disheartened,’ continued his grandfather. ‘I’m sure your coach knows what’s best for the team, which means he’ll have you right in his sights. Keep working at your skills and you’ll be in a good position when you are called upon.’
Eoin thanked his grandad for the advice and made his farewells. ‘I have to go meet Dylan,’ he explained. ‘But I’ll see you before we go back to Castlerock.’
Chapter 20
. . . . . . . . .
E OIN jogged down to Schillaci’s, where Dylan was already tucking into a bag of chips.
‘Here, Eoin, I’ve got loads and I won’t finish them. I’ll share them with you,’ he offered.
‘Thanks, Dyl. I don’t think I could
Devin sought him out after training, laying his arm across Eoin’s shoulder and telling him to stay focused, that his time was coming.
‘Thanks,’ Eoin shrugged, ‘but I’d probably be better off playing the rest of the season on the 14s.’
‘No you wouldn’t,’ insisted Devin. ‘This is a lot tougher, better training, more competitive games. You don’t realise it now, but you’re becoming a better player every day. Stick at it, you’ll get your chance. I’m certain of it.’
The following weekend Eoin and Dylan went home to Ormondstown. Because they had both turned fourteen their parents decided they could travel on the bus, as long as they stayed together. It was quite an adventure for the pair – their new independence was very exciting.
‘Any plans for the weekend?’ Dylan asked.
‘Eat, sleep and watch some TV that doesn’t involve sharing the remote with sixty other people,’ Eoin laughed.
‘Yeah, I’m wrecked. Need some home cooking and nothing much else. Catch you around the town maybe?’
‘Yeah, maybe a bag of chips tomorrow, say six o’clock?’
Eoin’s dad was there at the bus-stop, and he dropped Dylan home too. Caoimhe waved at them from the window.
Eoin had the lazy weekend he had hoped for, tucking into shepherd’s pie and roast beef and enjoying the simple pleasures of being home with his mum and dad. He called around to see Dixie, too, and naturally asked his grandfather had he heard of Kevin Barry.
‘Sure I did, indeed. Your grandmother used to sing a ballad about him. “Just a lad of eighteen summers…”’ he sang.
‘I’m doing a project about him,’ Eoin said. ‘And as you were so useful last year…’
‘Ha! Now, don’t say that. Your hard work won that competition for you. But to be honest, I don’t know much about him. He played a bit of rugby, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, for Belvo,’ Eoin replied. ‘He was from Carlow originally.’
‘Ah, yes.’ said Dixie, ‘I met a man once who knew him from down there. Said he was a quiet fellow, a serious type.’
‘Still is,’ said Eoin, before he realised what he had said.
Dixie looked at Eoin strangely.
‘I mean, I mean … he still was when he was up in Dublin,’ said Eoin. ‘I found a book about him that said that too.’
‘Well, that book should help you write your project then,’ said Dixie. ‘They were terrible times he lived through. He wouldn’t have been much older than yourself when he joined the rebels. Some people thought Ireland wouldn’t win its independence without a fight, others preferred to do it through politics. In the end it took a bit of both, but it took many years to heal the scars of those times. A lot of mothers buried their sons – on all sides.’
Eoin told his grandad about the rugby season so far, and how he had spent more time watching the games than playing in them.
‘It’s funny,’ said his grandad, ‘when I played there was no such thing as replacements. Back then they brought them in for injuries only. Nowadays it seems as if it’s a twenty-three man game. I get a bit confused watching on television sometimes.’
Eoin laughed ‘But don’t get disheartened,’ continued his grandfather. ‘I’m sure your coach knows what’s best for the team, which means he’ll have you right in his sights. Keep working at your skills and you’ll be in a good position when you are called upon.’
Eoin thanked his grandad for the advice and made his farewells. ‘I have to go meet Dylan,’ he explained. ‘But I’ll see you before we go back to Castlerock.’
Chapter 20
. . . . . . . . .
E OIN jogged down to Schillaci’s, where Dylan was already tucking into a bag of chips.
‘Here, Eoin, I’ve got loads and I won’t finish them. I’ll share them with you,’ he offered.
‘Thanks, Dyl. I don’t think I could
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