Things have been a bit – yeah, no – strained between Christian and me ever since he got back with his ex-wife, Lauren. I told him straight out that he was Hertz Car Rental even thinking about going there again. But he asked her to marry him irregordless and then, in the first flush of their rediscovered love, she asked him – “tell me honestly, I won’t be angry” – what his friends thought of them getting hitched again and the dude snitched on me like a parrot with a megaphone.
Anyway, I decide it’s time to maybe clear the air, which is portly why I invite the deluded couple and their kids, Ross jnr and Oliver, over for Sunday dinner. I also have – and I think it’s a word – an alterior motive for wanting to see Christian, but I decide to see what the atmos is like before bringing up the subject.
So Sorcha is corving the beef while the rest of us are sitting around the table and Ross jnr is going, “Ross, I’m doing maths grinds two nights a week in the Institute.”
What I’m supposed to do with this information is anyone’s guess.
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I’m there, “Yeah, no, fair focks,” trying to sound like I mean it.
Sorcha’s like, “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re in sixth year! Where have those years gone, Lauren?”
“I know,” Lauren goes. “By the way, I’ll be sending out the Save the Dates before Christmas – for the wedding?”
I’m there, “So it’s still going ahead, is it?” just making conversation.
She’s like, “Why wouldn’t it be going ahead?”
And I’m there, “No reason. I’m just saying I hope there won’t be any hitches between now and then.”
“There won’t be,” Christian goes, staring into her eyes and making me feel like nearly throwing up. “I made the mistake of letting her go once. I’m not about to do it again.”
I always reckoned he could have done better, but I’ve said my piece now and there’s no point in adding anything further, because I won’t be thanked for it.
Christian, I’m asking you to be my assistant coach – and I’m asking as someone who’s always been loyal to you
— Ross
I go, “What date is it happening? It doesn’t clash with the Heineken Cup final, does it?”
Lauren knows fock-all – and cares even less – about rugby, so the question has to be asked.
Christian goes, “No, it’s the second week in July. And it’s happening in Italy.”
Sorcha’s like, “Italy! Oh my God!”
I’m there, “Italy in July? I don’t know, would that not be very hot?”
Lauren goes, “No one is forcing you to come, Ross.”
I’m like, “We’ll look at the diary. Anyway, there’s a reason I asked you to come here today. Brian, Johnny, Leo, why don’t you tell your uncle Christian what you’ve been doing?”
Leo goes, “We’re playing rugby!”
I’m there, “Did you hear that, Ross jnr?” because the kid was hopeless at the game and gave it up to play Joseph in the school musical, at which point – and this was possibly petty of me – I stopped buying him Christmas and birthday presents.
“I’m a tighthead prop,” Brian goes.
And Johnny’s like, “I’m a loosehead.”
And Leo’s there, “And I’m a hooker.”
Christian’s there, “All forwards?” and I can see his disappointment with his own children written all over his face.
“I know,” I go. “How many years have I spent banging on about how you can win matches with average forwards but never with average backs? That quote is getting Tippexed out of my Tactics Book. Anyway, as you’ve probably heard, I’m back at Castlerock College, where it all storted, coaching the First Years – or, as I like to call them, the 2031 Leinster Schools Senior Cup champions. And I wanted to ask you how you would feel about being my assistant coach?”
He goes, “Ross–”
But I’m there, “No, let me finish, Dude. You and I have, like, a telepathic understanding that only an out-half and his outside-centre could share. You have a rugby brain very similar to mine–”
And that’s when he says it.
He’s like, “Ross, I’m coaching Blackrock this year.”
Twenty seconds of silence follow.
I’m there, “Excuse me?”
He goes, “Yeah, no, I was asked to take the first years,” and he says it as casually as that.
I’m there, “In Blackrock? As in, like, Blackrock College?”
And he goes, “Yes, Ross. Blackrock College.”
I’m like, “Well, you can tell them to shove their job – now that a real rugby school has offered you a place on the coaching ticket.”
“I can’t do that,” he goes. “I’m godfather to one of the boys in the squad.”
I’m like, “Godfather? Godfather doesn’t mean shit! It’s a meaningless title.”
Ross jnr goes, “But you’re my godfather, Ross.”
And I’m there, “Point proven. Christian, seriously, you can’t coach Blackrock. We hate Blackrock. What happened to Castlerock Above All Others?”
Sorcha goes, “There’s more to life than school rivalry, Ross.”
I’m there, “Says the girl who didn’t miss a single match during our run to the final in both 1998 and 1999.”
Put that beef back, Christian. You too, Oliver. And get out, the lot of you
— Ross
I turn to Lauren then and I’m like, “I suppose this is your doing, is it?”
She’s there, “Excuse me?”
I’m like, “You put him up to this – just because I said he was mad getting back with you and it would all end in tears again.”
Lauren goes, “Grow up, Ross.”
Sorcha puts the beef down in the middle of the table and goes, “Let’s forget about this and just eat, will we?”
But I’m like, “No, hang on a second, Sorcha. Christian, I’m asking you to be my assistant coach – and I’m asking as someone who’s always been loyal to you.”
“Except for the time you slept with his mother,” Lauren goes.
She has real trouble letting things go.
I’m there, “Dude, if you insist on coaching Blackrock, you can forget about me being your best man. It’d make me a hypocrite.”
He goes, “I never asked you to be my best man,” which hurts – it hurts like hell.
I’m there, “Get out!”
And Sorcha’s like, “Ross, stop this!”
But I’m there, “I’m serious. Put that beef back, Christian. You too, Oliver. And get out, the lot of you.”
And Christian, my best friend since we were basically kids, who soldiered alongside me on the rugby pitch and stood by me through thick and thin and – like Lauren said – me doing the mattress mambo with his mother, is just like, “I’ll happily go, Ross – but that’s us finished.”
