Feile Fever by Joe O'Brien Page A

minutes to calm herself before she could ask Mick her question.
    ‘Sorry, Mick,’ she said. ‘You had me in stitches there. I was wondering how are we going to do this when we don’t have anywhere for these people? We don’t have a clubhouse, Mick. Sure that’s why we’re all sitting here in the school hall now. Surely we’re not going run the whole show from here, are we?’
    Mick smiled.
    ‘Good question, Dolores. No, we’re not, that wouldn’t work. To be honest, I don’t really know. That’s one of the reasons why I askedeveryone here tonight, to see if we can work something out together.’
    Another hand went up. Mick was starting to feel the pressure already.
    It was Alan Whelan’s father, Gerry.
    ‘Do you have any idea, Mick, when we’re getting the new clubhouse and dressing rooms. I thought we were supposed to have them this year?’
    Now things were getting a little side tracked. This wasn’t what Mick wanted. He needed everyone to come up with solutions as to how they were going to co-host the County Féile, and that as yet wasn’t happening.
    Maurice Clarke, the club manager, picked up on this and stepped in.
    ‘Sorry Mick,’ apologised Maurice. ‘Could I answer that one?’
    Mick was delighted.
    ‘Hello everyone. As Mick kindly introduced me earlier. I’m Maurice Clarke, the club president . Just to answer that question from … is itMr Whelan? No plans have changed for the new build. The grants are all through and we’ve been in discussion for some time now with various builders and have finally appointed a contractor to carry out the works. We’re hoping to get going on the project before the end of the year or maybe start early next year and we’re all very excited about the whole thing!’
    Everyone seemed happy with Maurice’s answer. Splinter was so delighted with the idea of the new dressing rooms that he started punching Jonathon and Danny and had to be hushed again.
    Another hand went up from the very back row of seats.
    Mick couldn’t make out the person’s face.
    The man stood up, so Mick could see him better.
    It was Larry! Mick hadn’t noticed Larry arriving, but he was thrilled that his brother had made the effort. Things between Mick and Larry were great now since they sorted outtheir differences at the end of last season.
    ‘Larry!’ smiled Mick. He was dying to know what Larry was going to ask.
    First, Larry introduced himself to everyone; he was used to that, being a barrister.
    ‘I’m Larry Wilde. Mick’s brother. My son Jonathon plays on the team.’
    Jonathon was scarlet. Get to the point dad, before you bore them to death!
    Larry continued,
    ‘It seems to me, looking at the turnout here tonight, that everyone who has some form of attachment to the club – whether their child plays for Mick’s team or they’re managers or whatever – you all obviously care a lot about each other.’
    ‘Have you any questions Larry?’ Jimmy blurted out.
    Mick scowled Jimmy. He knew that Jimmy wasn’t getting on too well with Larry, but this wasn’t the right moment for that nonsense.
    ‘Not really!’ answered Larry. ‘I have asuggestion if that’s alright?’
    ‘Go ahead, Larry,’ encouraged Mick.
    ‘Well, I think that you have all the ingredients to co-host this Féile with great success.’
    Everyone listened attentively.
    ‘You have commitment, passion, pride, support. The only thing you don’t have is a large room for refreshments and maybe a couple more dressing rooms for the teams.’
    ‘That’s a big problem,’ laughed Charlie Timmons. ‘You can’t expect everyone to eat sandwiches and drink tea on the pitch. What if it rains?’
    Larry paused for a second or two, and then he smiled.
    ‘I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that! I have a golfing friend who owns a marquee rental company . He owes me a favour. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending you a large marquee for a refreshments tent, and maybe a smaller one too, if you like. You’d be under