‘If I have to spend the weekend with that dirty mongrel who flattened Dicky they’re gonna have a problem on their hands,’ announced Skull. ‘I’m just not going, simple as that.’
‘Yeah, me neither,’ added Lurch. ‘I had four of the little leprechauns hanging off me.’
‘Mate, that was some headlock you put on that dude,’ said Specky turning to Special K.
‘Yeah, just a little tip I got from that Jackie Chan movie I watched on the flight over,’ grinned Special K, packing away his footy gear.
‘His name’s Frankie Nolan,’ said Dicky. ‘I wonder who’ll draw the short straw and end up staying with him. There’s no way they’ll send me.’
The room quickly fell silent, as Grub and Bobby entered the rooms.
‘Well, boys, nice way to make a first impression on the Irish,’ Grub said. Specky thought his coach was doing his best not to smile. ‘We’ll talk about that later, but now to the good bit – Bobby’s going to announce the names of the families you’ll be billeted out to for the next couple of days.’
Nervous chatter rippled through the rooms.
‘And then he’s going to get a job with the United Nations and sort out all the other conflicts in the world,’ chuckled Grub.
‘Cut it out, Jay,’ said Bobby, looking grimfaced. ‘I’ve spent the past hour with the St Augustine’s officials and while we take the matter seriously we have all agreed that the billeting should still go ahead. Now, I know that some of you have concerns about staying with one particular player, but we will not be making exceptions. If these players and their families are good enough to open their homes to us for a few nights, then we accept graciously.’
With that, Bobby started to match up the players with their hosts. ‘Kottersley will be staying with Daniel Byrne. Freeman with Gabe Callaghan. Malopoulos with Liam Doyle …’
Specky and the remaining players held their breath, all hoping they wouldn’t be billeted to the Nolans. No one was more nervous than Skull. When his name was called, he stopped chewing his nails, and looked up at Bobby with a pleading look.
‘Morgan and …’ Bobby paused slightly. ‘… Frankie.’
Skull’s shoulders slumped and a shiny sheen of sweat broke out on his bald head.
‘… Crinnin. Morgan with Frankie Crinnin.’
‘What? Who? What did you say?’
‘Crinnin,’ said Brian sitting closest to Skull. ‘It’s not Frankie Nolan.’
Skull looked relieved, and the rest of the team groaned and complained loudly.
‘All right, all right – settle down,’ said Bobby. Bobby continued calling the names until there were only five players left and Frankie Nolan was still in the mix.
‘Magee and …’ Specky held his breath. ‘… Michael O’Leary.’
Specky exhaled. Phew! Michael O’Leary had given him the jumper before the match and he seemed like a nice guy. He was so relieved he almost missed the next name.
‘Atkins, you’ll be staying with Frankie Nolan.’
‘WHAT!’ bellowed Dicky. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m the one he belted around the ear! Grub, do something!’ Dicky pleaded. ‘Please, Grub. The family will probably lock me up in the basement and starve me.’
The rest of the team looked on with a mixture of sympathy, relief, and amusement.
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you, Dicky,’ said Grub. ‘I actually asked that you be paired up with the Nolan boy.’
Dicky looked stunned.
‘I want to know that you’re capable of separating what happens on the playing field from what happens off it. What happens on the ground, stays on the ground. Life is a series of tests, Atkins, and this is just another one.’ And with that Bobby and Grub left the rooms.
‘Suck it up, Dicky boy!’ stirred Skull, as he picked up his bag and made a move to follow them.
Dicky bent down and picked a half-sucked orange piece off the floor and with laser-like accuracy hurled it at Skull. The orange piece stuck to the back of Skull’s bald head – and a chunk of juicy pulp dribbled down the back of his neck.
‘Suck that up, Morgan,’ growled Dicky.