The Choice, page 19
‘Yeah, I asked her,’ he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘Seriously?’ I didn’t mean to sound quite so surprised. I had only ever heard Kev talk about Michelle Flynn, never actually talk to her.
‘Yeah,’ he said, and his face went a little red. ‘I was hanging around with her and some of her friends there for a while earlier in the summer. They’re all sound. You’d like them.’
‘You kept that one quiet! I’m not gonna steal your girlfriend, like.’
‘Shut up, she’s not my girlfriend,’ he said, going redder and redder. ‘Well, maybe she is, I dunno. Anyway, I’ll introduce you to her later.’
‘Introduce me?’ I tried not to fall over laughing. ‘Kev, she’s been my next-door neighbour for the last thirteen years, you mad yoke. I think I’ll be all right without the introduction, thanks.’
He went to give me a dig as I burst out laughing again. Colm appeared just in time to save him from any further embarrassment
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked as he pulled me aside for a chat.
‘Excited,’ I said, and it was the truth.
‘That’s what I like to hear. You’re starting at full-back.’
Part of me felt like I had been holding my breath all morning, waiting for Colm to make his decision. I was so relieved.
‘You’re going to have your hands full,’ he said, giving me his instructions. ‘Andrew Devanney is probably going to be in at full-forward and I want you marking him again today. If he’s playing further out the field, you go with him, and I’ll get one of the lads to drop in and cover you. But whatever you do, don’t give him an inch.’
We went back into the dressing room so Colm could announce the team. I didn’t even hear him call out my name. I was lost in concentration, checking everything twice – my jersey, shorts, socks, gloves, boots – to make sure they were perfect, and then checking them again. Boots clack-clacked on the ground as lads started to move around, the energy slowing rising in the room. Colm made us sit down again before we went out, but his team-talk was short.
‘You deserve to be here, lads. You’ve prepared perfectly. You’ve trained hard,’ he reminded us. ‘We play football because we enjoy it, so go out there and enjoy yourselves. If you do that, the rest will take care of itself.’
He looked over to me. ‘As captain, anything you’d like to add before we go out?’
‘I just hope someone has brought a camera,’ I shouted as I stood up, ‘because we’re not leaving here without a photo for that wall. Let’s go, Ballymun!’
It was nearly half-time before I had an opportunity to catch my breath again. From the moment the ball was thrown in, everything happened at triple speed, and if you stopped for a second, you’d be left behind. It felt more like a fight up at the Monos after school, except every punch was landing and nobody was backing down.
We scored.
They scored.
They scored.
We scored.
The Croke Park pitch was every bit as big as it looked, and by half-time, I knew every inch of it. Andrew Devanney never stopped running. More than once, he dropped all the way back into his own half-back line, and I went with him, which made me wonder if he’d been told to just move me around the pitch, drag me out of position, and hope that it would it leave a few gaps for his teammates close to our goal. If that was their plan, it was working for them. He didn’t score from play in the first half, but their other forwards were getting enough space to make chances and take them. All I could do was look on from a distance.
‘I don’t even know where he’s playing,’ I said to Colm at half-time. Christopher’s had started to get on top as the half went on, and we were losing by three points. ‘Are you sure you want me to keep following him around the place?’
‘How many points has he kicked?’ Colm asked.
‘Just those two frees,’ I said as I took another drink from my water bottle.
‘Then you’re doing your job, and you’re doing it well. Keep doing it. We’re still in this.’
But we were being overrun. It felt like we were hanging on by a thread and that every chance Christopher’s had was a chance to kill the game off. They got through on goal twice early in the second half, and twice Martin made big saves to stop them. The attacks kept coming in waves and every tackle was more and more desperate, more and more last-ditch.
If it wasn’t for Taz, we would have been dead and buried. While we were scrambling to plug holes at the back, he was having the game of his life at the other end. He kicked three points in a row – two off his right and one off his left – and as the last of the three sailed between the posts and the Ballymun flags started waving with a little bit more belief, Colm called me back over to the sideline. Christopher’s lead was back down to two again, but we were running out of time.
‘There’s only three or four minutes left here,’ he told me. ‘We’ll get the chances, but we need to stop them from scoring again. No easy points, no stupid frees. Nothing.’
I sprinted back into position and Christopher’s were on the attack again. Colm was right; another point and they’d nearly be out of reach. Their corner-forward got around Seán, our corner-back. We were caught short and the whole pitch opened up for him. I was expecting him to bring it in towards goal to make a better angle for himself or maybe wait for some support to try and turn it into a goal chance. That would really kill the game. But he took the shot on early. I was standing under the posts, watching, waiting in case it dropped, willing it to go wide. And it did.
‘What’s left, ref?’ Kev asked as we got back into position, but before he got an answer, Martin had taken the kickout quickly. Jimmy had peeled out towards the sideline, where nobody was marking him, and Martin hit him on the run with an inch-perfect kick.
The Christopher’s lads were out of position, scrambling to get back behind the ball. Taz had drifted inside and was one-on-one with his marker. Jimmy looked up when he heard him roar and saw his hand in the air. From the halfway line, he launched the ball goalwards, hoping that Taz would be able to wriggle away from his marker to win it.
The two of them grappled and wrestled while the ball came towards them. Colm was roaring from one dugout for a free in; the Christopher’s manager was roaring from the other for a free out. But the referee kept his whistle in his hand while the ball dropped. Taz got out in front of his marker and reached for it with both hands. He got both of his gloves on it, and I knew he’d immediately be thinking of his quickest way towards goal. This was our chance. But as he landed and went to turn, a hand came through from behind and slapped the ball away before he could pull it in to his chest safely.
Time stood still for a moment as the ball broke, bobbling away from Taz and his marker. They both reacted instantly and scrambled towards it, but neither of them got there first.
Kev swooped in, running on from midfield, and burst on to the ball. There was nobody between him and the goal. He took one solo, one hop, and as the keeper raced out to him to close him down and narrow the angle, doing anything he could to smother the chance, Kev put his head down and struck the ball straight through his laces.
From where I was standing, I couldn’t see the net ripple, but I could hear the roar from the Ballymun crowd, and then I saw Kev running back towards midfield, high-fiving and punching the air. A goal. We had gone from two points down to one point ahead, and there couldn’t be more than a minute or two left to play. I wanted to run and celebrate with Kev but there was no time. It would have to wait. We couldn’t let this slip away from us now.
Christopher’s came at us again. They knew this would probably be their last chance, and I knew they would try to get the ball to one player. Andrew Devanney pushed off me and ran out into space, screaming for the ball. I went with him. I had to be careful. I knew that a free was as good as a score to him, and if I gave him that chance, he wouldn’t miss.
He got his hands on the ball and turned, and now I was on the back foot. He could see the posts, the whole pitch opening up in front of him, and I was blind. It was just the two of us, one-on-one.
I waited for him to move back onto his right foot, his strong foot, the foot that he’d want to shoot off. But he didn’t. He shaped to shoot with his left, which caught me by surprise and nearly threw me off balance. That was his plan. As I stumbled, he shifted his weight, and now I was out of the picture. He had a clear sight on goal. He took one last look at the posts to pick his spot and then took the shot.
I was too far away to try to make a tackle. There wasn’t time to do anything else. I threw myself across his path, both arms outstretched, and hoped. The ball cannoned off the palms of my hands and when I lifted my head and looked up, it was rolling away towards the sideline. I had blocked it.
Jimmy scooped up the loose ball with his boot and tried to blast it all the way back to Ballymun; the further, the better. The referee had blown the final whistle before it landed again. It was all over. We were the champions of Dublin.
From that moment on, everything was a blur. I lay where I was on the ground, listening to the cheers from the stand. I wanted to run, to see Mam and Dad and everyone else to give them a hug and to celebrate, but I was too tired to move. That was my first mistake, as Kev, Taz, Jimmy, Martin, Liam and the rest of the team piled on top of me in celebration. Through the bodies, I could hear Kev leading the chant up on the top:
‘Go on, go on, go on the Ballymun.
Go on, go on, go on the Ballymun.’
When I dragged myself out of the bottom of the pile and finally got back to my feet, I grabbed him for a hug and let out a roar that was nothing but happiness.
‘We did it,’ I said, grabbing his face between my hands. ‘We did it.’
I didn’t know where to turn next. I wanted to see everyone, celebrate with everyone. Where was Colm? Before I could go to look for him, there was a tap on my shoulder, and Andrew Devanney was standing there. His eyes were red, and it looked like he had been crying.
‘Good game,’ he said with a bit of a sniff, holding out his hand towards me. ‘You’re a great team.’
I reached out and shook his hand.
‘I’m sorry about what happened before,’ he apologised. ‘I didn’t mean what I said. I shouldn’t have said it.’
‘And I’m sorry for giving you a smack,’ I said, ‘so I think it’s fair to call it quits.’
He smiled at that. ‘Enjoy the celebrations. I’d say Gerry was impressed with you today,’ he added as he turned to leave. ‘Hopefully see you back in the academy soon.’
The academy – I had completely forgotten that Gerry Mangan would be there to watch us. As I ran towards the Hogan Stand, I spotted him over on the sideline, talking to Colm. Whether it was good news or bad, it could wait. Mam had run down from her seat to the front of the stand, shouting and waving to try and get my attention. ‘Philip! Philip!’
I jumped up onto the barrier to give her a hug before she climbed over it and ran onto the pitch herself to get to me.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ she said and she was crying too, except hers were tears of happiness. ‘I love you.’
‘Love you too, Mam. Thanks for everything.’
I could have stayed there for the rest of the day celebrating, but I only had time to give Dad and my sisters a quick hug before Kev pulled me away. ‘Come on, you’ve to go. They’re waiting for you.’
‘Waiting for what?’ I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.
‘You’ve to go up and get the trophy first before they do the medal presentation. They’ve been calling your name and everything.’
‘Oh right, yeah, okay.’ I had completely forgotten. ‘Come on so,’ I said, pushing him in front of me. ‘You’re coming too.’
‘I can’t,’ Kev protested. ‘It’s only the captain for the trophy. I’ll wait and go up with the rest of the team.’
I ignored him and kept pushing him ahead of me towards the steps. ‘Captains,’ I insisted. ‘I wouldn’t even be playing today except that you convinced me to come back. We’re both the captains. We’re both going up to get this trophy together.’
Kev stopped and looked me in the eye, trying to figure out if this was a wind-up. When he saw that I was deadly serious, he took off in a sprint towards the presentation area, leaving me to chase after him. We raced up the steps, taking them two at a time, to collect our medals. The chairman of the Dublin county board was there to make the presentation, and after he said a few words, he asked if either of the captains would like to make a speech. I winked at Kev as I took the microphone out of the chairman’s hand.
‘This is a very short speech,’ I said. ‘It’s only three words long, really … YUP THE FLATS!’ I roared.
With our medals swinging from our necks, we took a handle of the trophy each and lifted it. A stampede broke out behind us as the rest of the lads charged up the steps to get their hands on it and take their turn at lifting it. There was a bit of fuss as the lads sorted themselves out into an orderly queue, and when the chairman’s back was turned, I slipped a second medal off the tray and went back down onto the pitch.
Colm was standing there by himself, watching the celebrations as the lads kissed their medals – Taz took a bite of his to make sure it was real – and then took it in turns to either put the lid of the cup on their heads or to pretend to drink out of it.
‘This one’s for you,’ I said to Colm as I pressed it into the palm of his hand. ‘I hope you haven’t run out of room for it after all these years.’
‘Thank you, Philly,’ he said. I watched him fold the ribbon up neatly and then put it into his pocket. ‘I really appreciate that. You were super out there again today. I don’t know how you kept going. And that block at the end … I don’t know how you managed that.’
‘I don’t know either,’ I admitted.
‘I have another bit of news for you too,’ Colm said. ‘Gerry Mangan said to pass on his best wishes and his congratulations. Actually, I think what he said was, “I know there’s no man of the match award in Féile, but they should have made one for the number three.”’
‘That’s very nice of him. I think I’d have picked Taz myself,’ I said.
Colm smiled. ‘It’s funny you should say that. Taz was the other player he mentioned. He asked me to tell you both that the next academy training session is in three weeks’ time, and he’s looking forward to seeing you both there.’
‘Are you serious? Did he say anything about the fight?’
‘It’s all forgotten,’ Colm said. ‘You didn’t make it easy for yourself, but you’ve definitely earned it. This is only the beginning, though, so make the most of it.’
‘I will. Thanks, Colm.’
‘Now go on and tell your mam and dad,’ he said. ‘They’ll be delighted.’
They were – but there was one person who I knew would be the most delighted of all, and I couldn’t wait to tell him.
‘Can I’ve a look at your phone there quickly, please, Dad? I just want to give John a ring. He’ll be raging that he’s missed all of this.’
Dad passed me his phone and I scrolled down until I found John’s English number and pressed Dial. It was noisy over by the stands, so I held the phone tight to my ear and walked into the middle of the pitch to try to hear it better, but all I could hear was the ringtone. John wasn’t answering. I waited a few minutes, in case he hadn’t heard it ring the first time, and tried him again. Still no answer; he must have been either out or busy. I handed Dad back his phone. I’d try him again later.
After the celebrations had finally simmered down and we had got clean and changed, we all went back to the Kickhams clubhouse for a party. By the time we got there, the place was jammed. People were outside chatting and drinking, and inside, it was nearly impossible to move. It felt like all of Ballymun must have been there.
It was late by the time we got home again, and I decided to try John one more time before I went to bed. This time, the phone only rang for a few seconds before it was answered, but the voice on the end belonged to a man I didn’t recognise.
‘Hello? John?’ I said.
‘This is John’s phone,’ the man said. He was very polite with a posh English accent. ‘Who am I speaking to?’
‘Tell him it’s Philly, his brother. I just wanted to chat to him for a minute before I go to bed.’
The man didn’t respond for a few moments and I wondered if I had been cut off.
‘Can I ask if John’s parents are near you at the moment?’ he said gently. ‘And if so, could I speak to one of them, please?’
‘Stop messing, will you? Just put John on there, please. Tell him we won our match. I’ll only be a second.’
‘If I could speak to either of your parents, please, that would be great,’ he said, persisting. ‘This is Sergeant Richard Taylor of the London Metropolitan Police speaking. I’m afraid I have some bad news.’
27
I don’t know if I’ll ever forget the look on Mam’s face as she sat there silently, listening to what Sergeant Taylor had to say. She didn’t cry at first, or shout or scream. She didn’t do any of the things that I expected someone to do when they’ve been told that a line has been drawn through their life, that there’s now a before and an after, and that their world will never be the same again. Her face was blank, giving no sign of the terrible news she was trying to process. It was as if someone had flicked a switch and her light had gone out.
But the moment she hung up the phone, her tears turned from a trickle to a stream to a river in an instant.
‘What happened?’ I asked, although I didn’t want her to answer. ‘Is John okay?’
She shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
‘What did the police say? Where is he?’
Mam forced the words out. ‘They found him in his room this morning, but it was already too late. They couldn’t wake him up.’
Dad sat down on one side of her and squeezed her hand, and Kellie sat on the other.
