I’m like, “Okay, listen up, everyone,” spinning a rugby ball in my hands and – to be honest? – loving the way my voice sounds right now. “Rugby is a 15-a-side contact sport, the object of which is to ground the ball behind the opponent’s try line in an area that’s known as–”
I wish I could say that I had, like, everyone’s attention? Yeah, no, it’s my first day as Director of Rugby at Castlerock College and my authority is being tested by a group of – yeah, no – 12- and 13-year-old girls.
I’m there, “Can you maybe stop chatting and listen to me – just for 60 seconds? Honestly, you’ll have goosebumps when you hear the next bit. Each team is made up of eight forwards and seven backs. The whole point of the game is to try to get your forwards and backs to go forwards while forcing their forwards and backs to go backwards. Forwards and backs can move backwards and forwards but can only pass backwards, even though they can kick it forwards? Girls, can we possibly put our phones away?”
One of them gives me a challenging stare and goes, “I’m texting my mom. I have, like, a dental appointment this afternoon?”
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I know it’s a lie. I raised a daughter who’s not much older than this crowd. I can tell the difference between chocolate spread and horses**t.
Then one of the girls looks me dead in the eye and goes, ‘Do you think that top actually fits you?’
I go, “Rugby is played with the hands and the feet, although kicking is a specialist skill,” and then, with a cheeky smile, I add, “and some would even say a superpower!”
Three girls in a little huddle to my right stort giggling among themselves.
I’m there, “Sorry, what’s so amusing?” hating myself for sounding like a teacher. “Do you want to share it with the group?”
Then one of the girls looks me dead in the eye and goes, “Do you think that top actually fits you?”
I look down – yeah, no, it’s definitely snugger than it used to be?
I’m there, “This top, as you call it, once belonged to Felipe Contepomi.”
A voice from the group goes, “Who?” and that’s, like, word for word.
I feel like nearly bursting into tears. I’m thinking, what if the dude happened to be walking by and he heard that? Okay, it’s unlikely but the thought of it kills me.
But then I remember that these girls weren’t even born when Felipe was working his magic for Leinster and I possibly should make allowances for that?
I’m there, “Felipe Contepomi was one of the greatest outhalves the game has ever seen – although he was no slouch when he played in the centre either!”
A girl goes, “I think it’s going to rain – can we go back inside?”
I’m there, “No, you can’t.”
“But, like, my hair is going to go all frizzy?”
I end up just shaking my head.
I’m there, “Look, you all want to play rugby, don’t you?”
“I don’t,” another girl goes. “My dad wants me to play.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” I go, remembering my old man throwing the Gilbert full-force at my head to try to improve my reflexes. I had three concussions before anyone had ever heard of the word. “Nothing wrong with that at all.”
“The only reason my dad wanted me to go to Castlerock,” another girl goes, “is because you went here and he said you were one of the best players he ever saw”.
I’m there, “He said that?” a sucker for a compliment.
“I hate him,” she goes. “He’s divorcing my mom.”
“Setting that aside, he thought I was one of the greats, did he?”
“He had an affair with a woman in work.”
“Hey, I’ll still take it. Did he go into specifics in terms of matches he saw me play in?”
“No.”
“I’m guessing he’s talking about the schools cup final of 1999 – although you could pick out any match I played that year. I was on fire.”
Another girl pipes up then. She goes, “My mom said you didn’t want girls going to Castlerock College.”
I’m there, “That’s not true,” even though it is true?
She goes, “Are you calling her a liar?”
I’m there, “No, I’m not calling her a liar. Okay, I was against it? Except I changed my mind.”
“Why,” she goes, “because you were offered this job?”
I run my fingers through my hair. I look down at the ball, then up at the window, then down at the ball, then up at the window again. I run my fingers through my hair one last time, then I run and swing my right getaway stick at the thing
Jesus, these kids make my own daughter look well-behaved.
“Are you Honor O’Carroll-Kelly’s dad?” another girl goes.
I’m there, “Okay, how is that relevant?”
“She, like, bullies my cousin?” she goes. “Her mom rang your wife and she didn’t do anything about it. She said she wasn’t interested in listening to tittle-tattle.”
I decide that’s it. It’s time to take drastic action. I turn my back on them and I stort walking away.
I hear them going, “Er, where’s he going?” and, “Oh my God – such a weirdo!”
Yeah, no, I count out 30 steps, then I turn around, whip the kicking tee out of the pocket of my Cantos and drop it on the ground. Then I get down on one knee and I spot the ball. I stand up again, then I take five steps backwards and four to the left.
I look up and I see that the window of Fionn’s office is open. He’s always been a big believer in, like, fresh air.
“What’s he doing?” all the girls are going. “This is, like, so random!”
I run my fingers through my hair. I look down at the ball, then up at the window, then down at the ball, then up at the window again. I run my fingers through my hair one last time, then I run and swing my right getaway stick at the thing.
The ball takes off like a plane. All of the girls stand there with their mouths wide open as it traces a perfect orc through the air and sails through the open window without even touching the frame.
All I hear then is a chorus of, “Oh! My! God! Did you see that?” and then Fionn is suddenly sticking his head out of the window, going, “Mister O’Carroll Kelly!” because he’s seen me do it a hundred times before and he knows it was no fluke. “You’ve just hit Miss Prentice, the accountancy teacher, in the head! She’s out cold!”
I look at the girls. They’re all staring at me in just, like, awe – and more importantly, they’re suddenly ready to learn from the master.
