Brendan makes friends...

 This is when Brendan is 8 and already thought to be a bit weird.

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Never was I the sort of lad who sought friendships. I had more important things for my attention and would have been happy to pass through life on just a name basis with those around me. But Eamonn decided he fancied a girl he'd noticed at The Embassy, one night, and found he knew her uncle, a Mr. O'Faelan who drove an old black cab. He also learned she lived in a house that overlooked the pitch where Derry City played their home games.

So one day, when I was but eight, Eamonn stormed into the parlor, freshly washed, and said, "Come along, Bren! Derry City's playin' and I know a place we can watch." 

I waved him away and kept my focus on unwinding the spring to Mrs. Campbell's alarm clock. She'd worked it so tight it was frozen and might even have been bent so would need a new spring, if I could get the old one out and...and never mind; that's not important...though the sixpence she'd promised was. 

But he simply picked me up, slung me over his shoulder and swatted me arse, saying, "We're off to watch the match, Ma!" 

"Leave off me!" was all I got out before Ma came down the stairs, also freshly washed. When had the two of them done that? I wondered, for I'd been working not so very far from the basin. 

She was smiling as she said, "Good. Get him out for a bit. All he does is sit there and tinker with things. Drives me mad. Be sure to keep him there till it's done." 

Then I heard, "Bernadette," calling in Da's voice. 

Eamonn carried me outside and I saw Da coming up from Fahan, his rucksak over one shoulder. He had returned from Belfast on the afternoon bus. Then I realized the house was quiet. Where were Mairead, Rhuari and Maeve? 

Eamonn waved to Da then I wound up seated on his shoulders and ferried like an invalid child all the way to Brandywell. 

Enroute, he told me, "I just want to spend some time with a lass named Aliene, Bren. Slip away and talk. Will you help me, here?" 

"Why can't you talk with her without me?" I snarled. 

"It's complicated." 

"What's that mean?" 

"Don't the Brothers teach you English?" 

"I do well enough." 

"All right, all right. It's just, I want to talk with her without her parents breathing down my neck or her friends all about. That's all." 

"And you need me for that? I was trying to..." 

He yanked at my legs to shut me up. "I told Mr. O'Faelan I'd bring you. He's heard how you like to fix things and he'll probably ask you something about his cab." 

"I don't fix cars." 

"He may still ask." 

"He can ask what he wants; I don't fix cars." 

We were at the front door to a nice terrace house before he'd let me down. An older lady answered the door and Eamonn said, "Good afternoon, Mrs Mooney. I'm Eamonn Kinsella and this is my brother, Brendan. Did Mr. O'Faelan tell you we might be dropping by to watch Derry City, with him?" 

She just huffed and said, "He's upstairs, front bedroom. I'll bring you all some tea." Then she headed back to what looked like a real kitchen, from what I could see. Very posh. 

So up the stairs he dragged me. Hesitated at an open door, obviously to the back bedroom, and smiled at a pretty girl with red hair, inside. Then led me to the front. It was nice and comfortable, with two windows. Lace curtains were pulled aside, with two boys huddled around one and a boy and man at the other, chattering some nonsense about how the match was going. 

The man was Mr. O'Faelan, who was tall, ruddy, neatly dressed and smoking a cigarette. The boy with him was Colm, a lad my age who was also ruddy and block-solid. I'd seen him about school with a pack of mates. He was one of those lads whom no one would test or bother. 

At the other window were Danny Gallagher and Paidrig Hurley, both my age, but w hile Danny was trim and fair, Paidrig was more fat than not and darker. Neither was at my school, but I'd seen Danny at my parish. They were having full fun rooting our team on. 

Eamonn introduced me to Mr. O'Faelan, who shook my hand and said, "I hear you're something of a fix-it lad." I just shrugged. "My For Hire flag won't stay up. I have to bind it then unbind. But if I take it in for repair, it's going to cost me. Maybe even put in an electronic." 

"Don't you know someone who can take it apart and see what's the problem?" 

He nodded. "But they all tell me to get a new one." 

"Well...won't know what I can do till I see it." 

He smiled and nodded. "I'll show you after the match." 

"You'll have to take us home. I don't have my grip or turn-screw with me." 

He just nodded and pulled up a chair to sit and watch what he could of the match. 

I didn't really understand the rules and such of football, for sports had never much interested me, so Mr. O'Faelan explained it as the first half continued. Colm cast me a few irritated glances then joined Danny and Paidrig. At the mid-point, score was 0-1 and not looking good. 

Mr. O'Faelan was smoking hard and fast and growling in very angry tones. Not even Mrs. Moony's tea and cake settled him. Not until I found that I could see mistakes being made by the opposing team's fresh goalie, in the second half. I had no idea what to call them but I'd say things like, "He's at the wrong side of the net," and "Looks like he's aimed for the center." Nine times out of ten, watching the players do their back and forth runs and kicks and bumps, I could say where our goal would be attempted. 

 Mr. O'Faelan, noticed and asked me to also watch our goalie. I had to stand on the chair to get a better view of him, and I found he was better aware of the opposing team's strategy. Colm and Danny came over to flank me at that window, fascinated, as Mr. O'Faelan stood behind me. Eamonn had, as I suspected he would, disappeared. 

"D'you play?" Colm asked me. 

"Never have," was my response. 

"Then how can you tell what they're up to?" Danny asked. 

"It's how they move on the pitch. Who they look at and for how long." 

Colm frowned, his eyes sharp on the players. "We have a strategy that's tight." 

"Not like theirs." 

"Will we be winning this match?" Mr. O'Faelan asked. 

I nodded. "Derry City's not on top of it, but our goalie's on top of it and theirs is shite." 

He chuckled, said he had to make a phone call and hurried downstairs. Colm smirked after him. Eight years old and he knows all his Da's betting quirks. Then he turned back to me. "I've seen you at school." 

I shrugged in answer.

Danny added, "And at mass. Always off to yourself, you and your family. Always quiet. Except around the grown ups." 

"Ma don't like noise in church," I said. 

"He's the looner, hi," said Paidrig, whom I'd near forgot was there. 

Colm frowned at him. "What d'you mean?" 

"That's what all the lads call him. I know the White brothers and they pick on everybody but him, hi. Scared he might hex 'em or something." 

"I don't know them," I said, even though I did and they had tried to pick at me, a few times, but had backed away when all I'd do is just glare at them like they were insects. 

"You want to play some footy?" Colm asked. "Danny and me're at Doire Youth Club. Play at Long Tower, and we could use another." 

"See how you do as real goalie," said Danny. 

"I'm usually it," said Colm, "but I'm not good with strategy." 

"Or quick," said Danny. 

"Oi!" But he was smirking when he said it.

"Never played before," I said. 

"It's easy," Colm laughed. "Keep the ball out." 

I huffed. "Like what I've been telling you he was doing or not, the whole match?" 

Colm and Danny both laughed. Paidrig helped himself to a last slice of the cake. 

I actually smiled but still said, "I don't know." 

That is when Eamonn was shoved into the room by Mrs. Money, as she snarled, "You will stay in here or be out on your arse." Mr. O'Faelan was right behind him, shaking his head and fighting a smile as he murmured, "Oh, Eamon. Eamonn."