‘How much would it mean to the girls storting school here to have the legendary Ross O’Carroll-Kelly teaching them rugby?’

“Mors tua, vita mea!” the old man goes, passing the hip flask around. “You’ll appreciate that, Ross, being a scholar of the language of ancient Rome!”

It’s, like, the first day of the school year and we’re standing outside the gates of Castlerock College. Although it would be more accurate to say that we’re blocking the gates — yeah, no, in protest at the school’s decision to go co-ed. There’s, like, 40 or 50 old forts involved — mostly mates of my old man’s — and they’re in their literally element.

“This reminds me of the time we picketed RTÉ,” the old man goes, “to protest against Ireland’s first lady newsreader! If you listened very carefully, you could hear us outside singing Eve of Destruction as she announced the news of Oliver Plunkett’s canonisation!”

“Or the time we picketed AIB,” Hennessy Coghlan-O’Hara goes, “when they started allowing their female staff to wear trousers.”

Say it quietly, but are we facing Taylor Swift fatigue?

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“We did what we had to do, Hennessy!”

“Inter arma enim silent leges!”

The old man laughs. He’s like, “Oh, well played, old scout — very well played indeed! Look at Ross there! His brain working away! He’ll come up with the perfect rejoinder in Latin any second now! You see if he doesn’t!”

I’m there, “I wouldn’t hold your focking breath. So, like, how many are we expecting this morning — as in, like, girls?”

“Oh, something in the order of 40,” the old man goes.

“And what are we going to do? Are we going to, like, physically stop them from entering the school?”

“If it comes to it — absolutely! But hopefully, once their parents see the depth of our opposition to this so-called co-education idea, they’ll take their daughters off to one of the Loretos, where they’ll receive a more appropriate schooling!”

It’s at that exact moment that Fionn steps out of the school and storts making his way towards the gates. Judging by his face, he’s not a happy man. He’s like, “This is absurd!” which is a favourite word of his.

“No more absurd than the idea of girls — girls, ladies and gentlemen! — walking the hallowed halls of Castlerock College!” the old man goes. “I keep thinking, what would Denis Fehily say if he was alive today?”

“Father Fehily was against the idea of girls being educated at all,” Fionn goes. “He said it was as pointless as teaching a cat to play bridge.”

“Oh, he was very much a man of his times!”

“Well, thankfully, we’re no longer living in his times. Look, you’ve tried everything, Chorles. You bulldozed the school library. You tried to bribe the parents to send their children elsewhere. Now you’re going to, what, try to physically intimidate them?”

“Inter arma enim silent leges!” the old man goes, then he gives Hennessy a big wink. All their mates laugh.

Fionn turns to me then. He’s like, “I’m surprised at you.”

I’m there, “Me? Er, why me specifically?”

He goes, “This lot are a pack of dinosaurs. I expected more from you — especially given that you’re one of the most innovative, outside-the-box thinkers I’ve ever met when it comes to rugby.”

I’m there, “Do you honestly think?” because I’m a sucker for a compliment.

The old man cops what’s happening straight away. He’s like, “Don’t listen to him, Kicker! He’s trying to get inside your head.”

“As a matter of fact,” Fionn goes, “I was going to offer you a role here at the school — as Director of Rugby.”

I’m there, “Are you serious? What would it involve — in terms of shekels?”

“We could discuss all of that. I want to enter a team in the Leinster Schools Senior Cup this year — for the first time in a decade. You’ve won it as a player. You’ve won it as a coach. You’re exactly what we need.”

The old man knows that my ego is both my greatest strength — and my greatest weakness. He’s like, “Stealth, Ross! Stealth! Stealth!”

There’s, like, one with glasses, who looks like a real brainiac. There’s one who looks like a bit of a dreamer. There’s one who looks kind of cool. There’s one who looks strong enough to pick up my old man and drop him on his head

Fionn goes, “Plus, in a few years, I’m hoping that there’ll be a Leinster Schools Senior Cup for girls. How much do you think it would mean to the ones storting school here today to have the great — the legendary — Ross O’Carroll-Kelly teaching them rugby?”

Hennessy goes, “Whatever he’s offering, I’ll pay you five times that not to take the job!”

All of a sudden, one of the old man’s mates shouts, “Here they come!” and I notice a group of girls walking towards the school gates with their parents walking behind them.

The old man and his mates link orms to form a human chain across the entrance to the school and Hennessy storts singing, “And you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend, how you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction.”

But I’m just, like, staring at this group of girls. There’s, like, one with glasses, who looks like a real brainiac. There’s one who looks like a bit of a dreamer. There’s one who looks kind of cool. There’s one who looks strong enough to pick up my old man and drop him on his head. And then, in the middle of them, there’s one who looks — yeah, no — supremely confident as she spins a rugby ball in her hands.

Or maybe that’s just me seeing what I want to see? But in that moment, it’s like I’m looking at Fionn, Christian, JP, Oisinn and me on our first day in Castlerock.

The girl with the glasses goes, “What have we got first class?”

And the girl with the Gilbert is like, “I don’t care. I’m only here for the rugby,” and I feel my eyes suddenly fill up with tears.

All of my old man’s mates are singing now: “And you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend, how you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction.”

The girls stop when they reach the line. One of the fathers clocks me standing there and he goes, “Ross O’Carroll-Kelly?”

I’m like, “Er, yeah.”

“I saw you play back in the day. I was a huge fan. Doireann, this man here could have been one of the greatest players that Ireland has ever produced.”

The girls all look at me with their mouths open.

The dude’s there, “Wait a minute — are you going to be coaching them?”

The old man goes, “Ross, don’t do this!”

But I turn around to him and his mates and I’m like, “Step aside — before I move you aside.”