So – yeah, no – I’m in the staffroom and I’m chatting to one or two teachers about the Leinster match against La Rochelle: Miss Casey, who teaches something-or-other, and Miss Nealon, who teaches, I don’t know, something else.
The two ladies are seriously impressed to hear that Harry Byrne is yet another sort of protege of mine and that’s when Fionn decides to play the principal cord.
He drags me outside and he goes, “Ross, you’re not supposed to be in the staffroom.”
I’m there, “I don’t hear any complaints, Dude. I think one or two of your teachers have a crush on the Rossmeister.”
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“Ross, we’ve been through this. You’re not a member of staff.”
“Oh, aren’t I, Fionn?”
“No, you’re not. This school engages your services as a first-year rugby coach on a contract basis. And in that role, you are treading on very thin ice.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning quite a few members of your so-called Elite Rugby Programme failed their Christmas exams.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with me. Like you said, I’m not a teacher.”
He’s like, “Don’t be funny, Ross. They failed their exams because you’ve been keeping them out of class.”
“Oh,” I go, “do you want them to lose to the Blackrock College first years in a match that The Irish Times is already billing as El Middle Class-ico.”
He’s there, “Frankly, I don’t care about your rugby match.”
And I’m like, “That says more about you than it does about me.”
He goes, “Just stay out of the staffroom, Ross. And put some clothes on.”
Because – yeah, no – I’m wearing a pair of admittedly very short shorts and a training top that leaves very little to the imagination in terms of showcasing the old A’s and P’s.
He goes, “And look at that, now you’ve made me late for my announcements,” and off is the direction in which he focks.
I tip back over to the lady teachers and I’m like, “Where was I? I think one or two of you were going to ask me about my own playing career, were you?”
And that’s when Fionn’s voice storts coming through the intercom, killing the passion of the moment for the second time.
He’s like, “Good morning, staff and students,” and then he launches into – like he said – his announcements? It’s all “remember this” and “don’t forget that”, we’re talking the Maths Olympics and the St Claude of Bethany Prayer Circle.
Then, as casual as you like, he goes, “I am, of course, saving the best announcement till last. On behalf of the staff and students of Castlerock College, I want to extend our congratulations to Rhys Reddin from first year, who received a merit award at the Young Scientist of the Year Exhibition for his project, Computational Discovery of Marine Plastic-Degrading Enzymes Enhanced by Deep Eutectic Solvents.”
I suddenly see red. Rhys Reddin is my outside-centre and possibly best player and I’m including my own kids in that.
So I go, “Excuse me, ladies – we’ll pick this up again the next day,” and I throw on my tracksuit top, stick my Rugby Tactics Book under my orm and I head outside to the rugby pitch.
The players are standing around in a huddle, getting ready for me to fill their, I suppose, minds with rugby knowledge. I decide to play it cool at first rather than go in hord.
I’m there, “Hey, Rhys, you missed your big shout in the announcements. Yeah, no, Fionn gave you a mench for winning the Young Scientist of the Year award.”
He goes, “I didn’t win it. I got a merit award.”
I’m there, “A merit award, is it? Fair focks,” but I obviously don’t mean it. “Fair focking focks.”
“Yeah,” he goes, “for my project on the Computational Discovery of Marine Plastic-Degrading Enzymes–”
I’m there, “I didn’t ask for your life story, Dude.”
Dude, just to let you know, there’s still a way back for you – if you apologise to your teammates and then burn your so-called merit award in front of us
— Ross
There’s suddenly silence from the other players. This is a moment and they know it. If you want to call it our Saipan, then feel free.
He goes, “Sorry, is there a problem?”
I can’t believe the confidence of this kid.
I’m there, “You’ve really no idea why I might be annoyed with you?”
He goes, “Er, no.”
I’m like, “Where did you get time to work on that?”
“What,” he goes, “my project on the Computational Discovery of Marine Plastic-Degrading Enzymes–?”
I’m there, “Yeah, don’t keep saying it, Dude. Don’t keep saying it.”
He goes, “I don’t know – evenings, weekends, midterm?”
I’m like, “You mean time you could have dedicated to improving your rugby?”
He’s there, “I don’t find rugby challenging. It’s something I’m naturally good at.”
He’s right. He scored a hat-trick in a friendly against the Gonzaga first years before Christmas. But he’s put it up to me in front of my players and I have no choice but to respond.
I’m there, “And this, what did you say, merit award? What good is that to you?”
He goes, “Well, a company has awarded me a bursary of €100,000 to pay for my third-level fees.”
He has an answer for everything, this kid.
I’m there, “And third level – what’s that going to lead to?”
He goes, “A high six-figure salary, hopefully.”
There’s quite a few sniggers from the other kids, my three included. I know that I have to act to regain their respect. He’s boxed me into a corner here.
I’m there, “Dude, it’s like this – you’re going to have to choose between science and rugby.”
He’s like, “I’m going to choose science then.”
I’m there, “Really? Er, I was sort of banking on you saying rugby there? Do you want to sleep on it?”
He actually storts walking away then.
I’m there, “Dude, just to let you know, there’s still a way back for you – if you apologise to your teammates and then burn your so-called merit award in front of us.”
Over his shoulder, he goes, “No, science is my future. Rugby is just a thing I happen to be brilliant at.”
I’m there, “If you change your mind–” but he’s out of earshot.
All of the players are just staring at me, waiting for me to tell them that it’s going to be all right.
“Yeah, well done,” Brian – my own son – goes. “He was our best player.”
I’m suddenly like that dude Mick McCorthy.
I’m there, “Trust me, goys, this will make us better as a team.”
And then I hear Brian go, “Talking out of his orse.”
