In Charge
Declan struggled to sleep after Brendan made him captain. It was a lot of responsibility to shoulder. The next morning, he quickly downed his breakfast and then rang his mum. He’d wanted to ring her the night before, but he felt like he needed some time to think. He hoped listening to her voice would soothe his nerves.
The phone rang three times before she picked up. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, it’s me.’
‘Oh, lovely to hear from you, Declan. I hope you’re all playing well.’
‘Yeah.’ He sighed.
‘You’re staying out of trouble?’
‘Yep.’
‘And Brendan is happy with you?’ she asked.
‘Well, that’s the reason I wanted to speak to you.’
‘Oh no,’ she gasped. ‘What’s wrong? What did you do?’
‘No, it’s not like that. Brendan’s made me captain of the team.’
‘Oh my goodness!’ she said. ‘That’s amazing! Here I am praying that you’ll win every match but now they’ve made you captain – that’s big news! You must be doing something right.’
‘Mm-hm,’ Declan grunted.
‘Well, you don’t sound too excited,’ she said, disappointed. ‘You sound like you’ve been sent home. You should be happier than anyone on that team!’
‘Sorry, Mum. It’s just … it all happened so fast. The captain got sick yesterday, so they gave me the position, and we’re playing a match today. If we lose, we’re not just going home. People will notice that we lost the second I was made captain. They’ll blame me. They’ll say it’s my fault.’
‘Brendan wouldn’t have given you the position if he thought you’d let everyone down, sweetie,’ she reassured him. ‘If you lose, it won’t be because of you. It’ll be in spite of you. I’ve never known you to give less than 100 per cent. You can only do your best.’
And just like that, he felt like a huge weight lifted off his chest. His mum always supported his love for the sport. She knew exactly what to say to make him feel better.
‘Thanks, Mum. I really mean it.’
‘Dad’s gone to work, but Granddad’s here. And – wait, hold on.’ Mum’s voice sounded muffled, as if she was speaking to someone in the background. ‘Sorry, that was your grandfather. He just shouted “Jesse Owens!” Does that mean anything to you?’
‘Yeah,’ Declan said with a smile. ‘It does.’ As he looked up, he noticed Stewy waving at him and then pointing outside. ‘Eh, Mum, the bus pulled up. I’ve got to go.’
* * *
Before the match, Brendan had a few things to say. ‘Lads, this is the quarter-final, so of course Roscommon are a great team and are going to be tough to beat. I managed to catch the second half of their game against Longford. They have an excellent goalkeeper – he must have saved three or four one-on-ones during the time I was there. So, lads, only go for a goal if it’s clearly on – otherwise, put the ball over the bar. A point might not seem like much, but if we keep the scoreboard ticking over throughout the game, it could be the difference between winning and losing.’
As Declan walked towards the centre of the pitch for the coin toss, he felt proud. Only a few days ago, he wasn’t starting: now he was the captain. Declan won the coin toss and opted to play with the slight breeze.
When the match began, it seemed clear that there wasn’t going to be much between the teams. For the first time since the beginning of the competition, they got on the scoreboard first, after Brian Bohan played a diagonal ball in to David Jenkins, who turned to curl over a lovely point with his right foot after about two minutes.
But Roscommon weren’t going to make it easy for them. It was the most even game they had played. Every time they scored, Roscommon equalised within minutes. They were efficient, disciplined and methodical. Declan’s team couldn’t wait for them to make mistakes – they weren’t making any.
The tactic of not trying to force goal opportunities seemed to be working, as Declan’s team took their chances for points where they created them. When the half-time whistle blew, each team had five points. Declan hadn’t scored yet, but that didn’t matter for now. Winning was what was important.
As soon as the second half began, it was like Roscommon were playing at double speed. Whatever pep-talk they’d got at half-time seemed to have cranked their skills up a notch. Declan shouldered their centre-back as he was coming out with the ball and it was like his body was made of iron. He wasn’t going to give an inch, and neither were the rest of his team.
Declan’s team worked harder than they ever had, matching point for point throughout. As the second half neared to a close, the score was 0–10 to 0–9, and with the final whistle looming, it looked like they were going to lose by a single point.
As David got the ball, Declan saw him hesitate for a second. He glanced quickly towards Brendan on the sideline and then made a dash for the goal. He wasn’t going for a point. He was trying for a goal. Declan knew he should have been annoyed David wasn’t sticking with the plan, but a goal this late in the game would guarantee victory.
The Roscommon players were getting desperate, and two of them lunged at David. Although the first one missed him, the second one committed a foul. The ref blew the whistle for a free kick. They could easily get a point, but that would lead to a draw. Declan wasn’t sure what to do. Should they risk it and try to win during extra time?
As he was thinking to himself, David ran up to him. ‘This one could decide it, Dec. Who should take the shot?’ Declan didn’t expect him to ask, but as captain, he felt he had to make a decision. Although Declan had scored goals in the last two games, he felt like he hadn’t played his best in this game, so he didn’t think he should take the free kick himself. He knew Paul was great at frees and penalties, but he decided to try something else.
‘You do it,’ Declan said confidently.
‘M-me?’ David spluttered. ‘Paul is a way better shot than me.’
‘But you’re stronger. Their goalkeeper is too good. If Paul or I took the shot, he’d probably catch it. But you kick with a lot of force. If you hit hard enough, he won’t be able to hold on to it. Trust me.’
And with that, David went back and got the ball into his hands. Declan could see him concentrating and taking a deep breath. The pressure was getting to him, but he tried his best to keep his cool. He suddenly blasted the ball right at the goalkeeper. Although the keeper stopped it, he couldn’t hold on to it and it dropped in front of him. As he ran to pick it up, Paul came out of nowhere and walloped it to the top-right corner of the net.
GOAL! That was it! They’d done it. Less than a minute later, the ref blew the final whistle. They were officially in the semi-final. As they all cheered and jumped around, Declan could see Brendan raising his fists in the air in triumph. He had never seen Brendan get emotional before, but he was clearly proud of his team.
As Declan went around to pat everyone on the back, Paul ran up to him, holding up his hand for a high five. ‘Wow! Dec, well done! I was sure we were going for extra time.’
‘No, well done to you, Paul – you were the one who got the goal.’
‘Ah, who cares, man – we’re in the semifinal! Wahoo!’
