HE IS a mother and father, rolled into one. He is a confidante. He is a handyman. He provides a shoulder to lean on. He drives a white van. He is the lost-and-found property office. He offers an escape clause to the forgetful. He is Dixie’s fella, who loves all music but will genuflect to the Beatles and Christy Moore.

He has been moulded by the 1960s and loves to spend time at the bar in Lakelands, home of his beloved Terenure College, and Inishbofin. He is a reformed hooker, going straight, that is to say to the hearts and minds of those with whom he works. He is the good-natured punchline to many a practical joke played by the players.

He is the bagman to the Ireland rugby team, a duty he’s discharged since 1994 by his own recollection. Some day he hopes to become a baggage master. It’s his aspiration. But most of all he is the incomparable Rala.

Here he outlines his role with Ireland in the build-up to a match and for these abstract purposes, the fixture takes place on a Saturday afternoon at the Aviva Stadium (3pm) and the squad are based at Carton House.

SUNDAY

(Prior to the Saturday match)

The first thing I’d do on arrival is to lay out the laundry (clean, fresh training kit, etc) in the corridor outside my room for collection by the players. I would then start preparing for the training session the next day, cleaning, washing and pumping balls for Mark Tainton’s (Ireland kicking coach) inspection. I would get him to test the pressure.

The players would have their main kit bag with them. I might have one or two in the van belonging to players who were flying in and they’d go in the corridor too.

That evening I would assist Ger Carmody (Ireland logistics manager) in writing up the itinerary for the next day, getting it signed off by Declan Kidney. That A3-sized schedule has to be delivered on the double to every room, players and management, and also to the medical and video analysis rooms. It provides detail to the schedule for the next day; it outlines what they are doing, where they should be, the correct training kit to wear in terms of colour coding. Coaches always wear a different colour to the players so they are easily identifiable.

Then I would see Paul, Brian or Arthur in the hotel. I would list our requirements for the next day and the timings involved relating to the hot drinks for the training session like tea, coffee, soup and drinking chocolate. (IRFU nutritionist) Ruth (Wood-Martin) would have an input into that as she decides on bars and supplement drinks.

Ger always tries to give me a bigger than normal room, sometimes two because it has to house so much stuff. I would pick a corner of the room to devote to pre-preparing match items, six days before a game. I name it after who we are playing. We’ll call it Welsh. There’d be oodles of spares: shorts, ties, shoes, belts, cufflinks, jocks, socks. I would have a stud box with three or four different sizes of studs, pliers, laces, gum shields. You try to divide things into sections: pre-match and post-match. There’d be 24 assorted drinking vessels (chip strap and orthodox), which are cleaned by a machine in the hotel.

For me there is an air of excitement to “assembly evening” when the players arrive; time to catch up and listen to the latest yarns. Some are in by six o’clock, some seven, others closer to the deadline. Assembly night is always lateish for me, especially if there are extra chaps coming in. Like last week, with some of the young lads like Peter O’Mahony, Craig Gilroy and Tiernan O’Halloran. I’d quietly keep an eye because it’s new for them. I try to help them along until they settle in after a day or two.

MONDAY

For a training session at 10am, I would be at the pitch an hour earlier. The van resembles a mini-warehouse. It contains 20 (tackle) shields; a one-man scrum machine; Mervyn’s (Murphy, video analyst) ladder; an ice bucket; water; Powerade; a supplement box; a bag of spare training kit (all colours in case someone is wearing the wrong one); jerseys; shorts and socks; a fruit basket (ripe bananas, mandarin oranges and grapes); 18 body suits; bibs; six spare subs’ coats in case players are standing around or sometimes the management use them when it’s freezing; a baby stud box; Rala’s emergency box which has another selection of studs; kicking tees; black markers; mouth wash (Keith Earls); Jamie’s (Heaslip) hand wax; banana cake (Les Kiss); spare whistles; utility poles; white and coloured and umbrellas for the management.

Then there is the music, which is very important. I have a running battle with Jamie (Heaslip) as regards the music. I would be putting on the Fureys and he’d be trying to put on some techno noise. We play Christy Moore, a lot. I love all kinds of music particularly from the 1960s. It’s be blaring out from the van. I would have a few sweets hidden but Rory Best seems to be able to sniff them out at a hundred paces, even when I hide them down the back of a seat. Just as the training is about to begin the music goes off and it wouldn’t go on again until the training has finished.

The weather is a big factor in what you do in terms of putting things out on the pitch in preparation. There’s no point in leaving tackle suits out if it is lashing rain. I would put out the cones, rugby balls, a soccer ball, few hurleys, shields, the ladder and get the table – it must have a table cloth – with the drinks, fruit, tea, coffee soup, drinking chocolate, cups, saucers, milk, spoons.

You try to prepare for all eventualities. I’m there to assist the captain and the management team in whatever capacity I can. The boys will arrive at 9.55am. The music goes off at 10am. I prepare the drinks for masseurs Dave (Bennett) and Willie (Revin) because they run on during the session. As soon as the session finishes I start the packing up and immediately begin preparations for the next one.

It’s back to the hotel and the players’ laundry would be due for collection at 2pm. I’d oversee that process and make sure it’s there for Carton’s Paul Kershaw so we get it back the next day. After lunch there’s bits and pieces to be done.

I work very closely with Declan Meade, Tony and John in our (IRFU) warehouse in Naas. There would be gear going back and forth as guys change sizes. You always get a bit of that no matter what contingencies you might have put in place.

There’d be time for a mid-afternoon cappuccino with Ger. There are so many traditions I have enjoyed through the years and one is the “Tea Club”. John Hayes was chairman. He’d come in of an evening and say what time are we on tonight? It had to be Barry’s tea. You’d have all the bits ready but he’d make the tea and serve you. Darce (Gordon D’Arcy), Rory (Best), Shaggy (Shane Horgan), and (Denis) Leamy would often be there. I miss John big time, as do all the lads.

The itinerary for the next day would be drawn up, signed off by Declan, printed and shoved under doors. I’d have cleaned the balls and got Mark to check them and they’d be back out in the van.

TUESDAY

It’s virtually a carbon copy of the previous days in terms of the training, just a little bit sharper because it is media day and there are interviews to be done. I’d be adding to the match corner in my room. The match balls, eight of them, are introduced at training and they have to be cleaned and marked.

Throughout the week the players are involved in the unholy trinity of darts, table tennis and pool. I tend to let the players off and if I do play get knocked out in the first round of everything.

Declan Meade would send on the gift cases and the yellow box which contains three flags. You are not going to need flags at the Aviva Stadium because they are already there. There’s also a CD of Ireland’s Call. If you were going somewhere like Tonga you’d give them to the home union. But I always have them available. I’d put it in the match corner of my room with the captain’s post-match presentation gifts – pins and ties. You are assembling this as you go along.

WEDNESDAY

It’s what they call a “down day”. Mine would start off in assisting Mark Tainton with the kickers (Ronan O’Gara, Jonathan Sexton et al). They either do the kicking at Carton House or they might go to the Aviva. Mark will tell me. I would prepare the balls. It can be four or five players but always Ronan and Jonathan. I’d pack drinks for them and if the weather was bad, their showering gear and towels. I would bring a few energy bars and a soccer ball. They warm up with that. Practice usually takes two hours.

We go in a people carrier. If it is at Lansdowne Road I might bring some additional match-day stuff and leave it there. The reason I go is to kick the balls back and to look after the drinks. On our return there is a great tradition, “the kickers’ lunch”. There might be chips involved.

Wednesday gives me a great chance to work on stuff. I might have gear coming in from the warehouse or if we were playing away I’d get most of the packing done. I usually go to the films that evening or go out with the management for dinner. I try to catch up on sleep. The door to my room is always open but that’s one when it might be closed for an hour or two.

On the bottom of the itinerary sheets there is a thing called “Rala’s quote of the day”. It’s only occasionally mine. A wee girl in Limerick, Hazel, gave me a few last week. The original reason was to allow the players to contribute. Donncha (O’Callaghan) comes up with a few, so too Taints (Mark Tainton), receptionists; there are lot of contributors. Even if Einstein came up with it, it is still pencilled in under Rala’s quote of the day.

THURSDAY

Every bagman needs to think ahead but on this day in particular. It’s all preparation. We train and move hotels.

You have to do all the things you’d do on other training days, and then load the van with all the gear and set up shop again, so to speak, in another hotel, the Shelbourne.

The laundry arrangements are slightly more complex in that having been collected from one hotel it has to be dropped to another.

I simply could not do my job without the help and co-operation of so many people in the IRFU offices, the warehouse, various hotel staff, the lads in the backroom team and so many others.

You appreciate you’re a small cog in a big wheel. Ger Carmody is brilliant. I would be lost without him.

Stuff starts to come in for the match. I would plan to leave several items like shields, balls and cones in the stadium to save me doing it on match day.

FRIDAY

I get to the stadium about an hour before the players for the captain’s run, which lasts about half an hour. I’ll start getting the changing-room ready for the next day and then help Mark with the kickers. There was a tradition where the doc, Gary O’Driscoll, and his team, would stay behind to kick balls back. The players bring a rucksack with a change, keeping what we call the stadium bags for match days.

It’s one of my favourite times, the eve of match. The jerseys arrive from Andrew Ellis. Declan (Meade) will send in the match shorts and socks. In my spare room I would hang up the match jerseys, the starting set 1-22, take out the creases and hang them on a rail. I would put out the shorts and socks (this is mid to late afternoon) on my bed; neatly. It gets wrecked thereafter. You’d have your stud box, laces, black markers, polish, cloths and brushes. I would have washed the balls again.

You leave two match balls in the stadium after the captain’s run for the opposing team. I collect the two of them on match day. We have eight match balls and they have to be prepared for a final time. I pack spare, spare shorts, and the same with socks. The players collect their match shorts and socks on a Friday night but the real objective for some is to turn my room upside down.

Donncha (O’Callaghan) is always first, Brian (O’Driscoll) the last. On the itinerary it reads: “Gentlemen please collect match shorts and socks at your leisure post dinner.”

I’d be in my room until about 11pm and then crack on with packing for the following morning.

SATURDAY

The jersey rail would be in the lobby under guard. The van is packed and you have a check-list so you’re not wondering if you packed the walkie-talkie headsets and chargers. After an early breakfast in the Saddle Room I get to the Aviva for 8.30am for a 3pm kick-off. If we are playing away from home it would be midday.

I don’t like rushing and you have time to chat to people. I bring a few sandwiches for what I call the A team in Lansdowne; Jimmy, Paul and Dessie. They not only help me unload but know where to put the stuff.

I have a set routine. The jerseys go up first, along with their tops for the anthem and from there it is revolves around how I like to go about things. For about 60 seconds, as the players arrive, the dressingroom is neat and ordered before bags are thrown down and everything gets moved around. Some players like an extra pair of white socks under their playing socks.

I put the programmes out, get the toiletries table ready in the shower area, lay out two towels per player and prepare the drinks for the side of the pitch and the ice bucket. You start putting the stuff that’s going on the pitch outside the door of the dressingroom; cones, shields, balls, towels, emergency box.

You won’t do that until an hour before they arrive. The idea is not having anyone having to ask for something. I have yet to get 10 out of 10, mind you. I am striving for that. I am the bag man. If I ever 10 out of 10, I’ll call myself a master. It’s small things but there’s always something. The thing is to deal with it with the least fuss.

The last thing I do is put a ball in the centre on a cone. Then I wait outside for the bus to arrive. The boys collect their bags and we get the medical gear inside in the shortest possible time. Then you try to become invisible while watching everything. The players go out for the photo/warm-up. You keep track of the match balls.

The players are on a clock. You run around, pick up bits, go in briefly and then back outside the dressingroom door; I stand close to it in case I hear my name called. The greatest moment of the week for me is when the captain leads them out. I feel proud and privileged, in making my tiny contribution. I am in and out to the dressingroom during the game. When there’s a penalty or a conversion the players are standing still like cattle in the field and you scan them easily, looking for tears or blood.

About 10 minutes before half-time I stroll into the changing-room. I would have the second-half jerseys hanging up in case they want to change; the iced drinks, supplement drinks.

You might have to assist a player in changing a jersey because they are so tight. When I come in after the match, I take my time unless there is a plane going in an hour. A bit of food comes in. I tidy up. They have laundry bags in which they put their match kit. I take that and it is laundered and returned the next day.

I would ring Paul in the Shelbourne and tell him to open up my room before I get there. The players know that on a table I would leave out spare bow ties, belts, cufflinks; even pairs of shoes of varying sizes. I enjoy going to the post-match dinners but don’t always make it.

SUNDAY

Time to pack up: two vans to be loaded because everything won’t fit in one. It’ll be straight down to Carton House because we have the French match in Paris the week after Sunday’s game against Wales.

I’m incredibly fortunate to be in the position I am, a job that has given me an opportunity to meet so many wonderful people in countries all over the world.

Ireland bagman Patrick O’Reilly is alert to player and management needs during an Ireland training session during last autumn’s World Cup campaign at Owen Delaney Park, Taupo, New Zealand.

(Below): The Terenure clubman has an unusual encounter during the 2003 World Cup in Australia. (Right): Ireland prop Cian Healy celebrates with O’Reilly after defeating Italy at World Cup 2011.

Photographs: Inpho

Attentive to detail and attentive to people, Patrick ‘Rala’ O’Reilly has it all