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- Herausgeber: The O'Brien Press
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
The Gaelic footballer who's won nearly every prize in the game: Including 5 All-Irelands & 8 All-Stars. 'You need a boot to kick and hands and shoulders to mark your opposition. But without a sharp brain, you'll never make it as a Kerry footballer.' Follow Colm from his days as a tiny, freckle-faced kid – the youngest of seven in a GAA-mad family from Killarney – all the way to Croke Park, where he won five All-Ireland titles. This is the story of how a boy who everyone said wasn't big enough or strong enough to wear the green and gold jersey of Kerry became one of the greatest Gaelic footballers of all time.
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Chapter 1
Colm’s First Training Session
On a brisk autumn morning in 1989, a freckle-faced six-year-old from Killarney left his home for his first-ever GAA training session. His name was Colm Cooper. He was heading to his GAA club Dr Crokes with his dad Mike. Colm was over the moon with excitement. He was about to take part in an U8 GAA blitz.
It was a chilly morning, but Colm wore the black and amber kit of Dr Crokes with pride. He’d been visiting the club since he learned to walk, but it was his first time wearing the Dr Crokes jersey out of the house. His four older brothers all owned the exact same kit. New kits had such an amazing smell when they came out of the plastic. He’d muck it all up soon but for now everything in the world was perfect.
‘Are you nervous, Colm?’ his dad asked.
‘No, Dad,’ Colm said. ‘I just can’t wait to play.’
Colm was a wispy redhead. He was the youngest in a family of seven kids. He had four older brothers Danny, Mark, Mike and Vince, and two older sisters, Geraldine and Karen. It was hard being the youngest kid - you were the last one to experience everything - but Colm was delighted his day with Dr Crokes had finally come.
‘Enjoy yourself today, Colm,’ his mam had said when he was leaving the house. She gave him a big hug, which made Colm squirm a bit. She had packed his gym bag with everything he’d need: his Adidas boots, a water bottle, a few bananas and some sliced oranges, and a cap in case it rained. Under his arm, he carried his most important possession in the world: a Gaelic football.
It was only a five-minute drive from their estate, which was called Ardshanavooly, to the Dr Crokes club, down on the Lewis Road. The Coopers lived in one of the biggest towns in the most beautiful county in Ireland. Dr Crokes was already Colm’s home away from home. He was there all the time to watch his brothers play. Finally it was his turn.
Colm’s dad wasn’t from Killarney but he was a proud member of Dr Crokes. And of course, he was a very proud Kerryman. His dad knew everything about the GAA. And he knew EVERYTHING about Kerry football.
‘How do you become a Kerry footballer, Dad?’ Colm asked, as they pulled out of the estate.
‘You practise, son!’
Colm laughed.
‘No, really Dad!’ he said. ‘How do they pick the Kerry football team?’
‘Well it starts with club,’ Colm’s dad said. ‘First you build a reputation up at underage level, so that the selectors know you. Then when you’re seventeen you might get called into the Kerry minor panel. And it snowballs from there. U21s, training squads and the like. Only the best of the best play for Kerry.’
‘I want to play for Kerry some day,’ Colm said.
‘Well that’s the beauty of it,’ Colm’s dad said. ‘If you were born in Sligo or Timbuktu, it wouldn’t be an option. But you were born a Kerryman. And that green and gold jersey is one of the many privileges that comes with being from here.’
They pulled up in front of the gates of the club. Colm could see a group of kids his age gathering on the main pitch.
‘One thing to keep in mind, Colm, is that all of the Kerry greats, the likes of Pat Spillane and Bomber Liston, all learned their trade with their club. And when their careers with Kerry ended, they went back to their club. Club is everything.’
Colm understood.
‘Go on and join the other lads.’
‘Bye, Dad!’
Colm ran from the car and joined in the blitz. Coach Pádraig O’Shea was there to guide them through some drills. How to hand pass. How to solo. How to pick the ball up off the ground with your foot. Colm loved every second of it. An hour passed in the blink of an eye.
‘Before we wrap it up, we’re going to give everyone a chance of kicking a penalty against a real goalie,’ one of the trainers announced.
Coach Peter, goalie for the Dr Crokes senior team, stood between the posts in his goalie’s kit. He was a real character. He had a thick moustache and loved telling jokes. Like Colm, he was from Ardshanavooly.
Eventually it was Colm’s turn to take his penalty. He placed the ball on the spot and stood over the ball.
‘What’s your name, son?’ Coach Peter said.
‘I’m Colm Cooper from Ardshan,’ Colm replied.
‘Ah another one of the Coopers of Ardshanavooly,’ Coach Peter. ‘A fine footballing family you have there.’
All of a sudden, Coach Peter gave him a funny look.
‘Do you know what you remind me of, young Cooper?’ Coach Peter said.
‘No,’ Colm said.
‘Do you know those Goochie dolls that they’re selling in the shops?’
All the kids laughed. At the time there was a very popular kids doll in Kerry named Goochie. The Goochie doll had big, bright red hair, like Bosco.
Colm blushed.
‘You’re a bit like a Goochie doll with that red hair you’ve got. Now let’s see if you can put a penalty past me, Goochie.’
Colm was determined to score a goal. On every football, there’s one perfect spot and Colm tried to find it. He struck the ball sweetly, firing it into the bottom right corner. Coach Peter dove, but couldn’t stop the shot.
‘Great penalty, Gooch!’ Coach Peter shouted, as he picked himself up off the ground. Colm pumped his fist. He was the only player to score his penalty. It was his first experience of scoring a goal on a Gaelic football pitch. What a feeling it was!
Chapter 2
Italia 90 Fever Sweeps Killarney
Colm and all his brothers were on the Ardshan front green, kicking a soccer ball around. They were about to start a game of soccer with ten of their neighbours. Later that June afternoon, Ireland would be playing Romania in the World Cup Round of 16.
Italia 90 fever had swept Ardshanavooly. It was Ireland’s first-ever World Cup. The estate had two areas for playing sport – the front green and the back green – and soccer was the only game being played in Ardshan that summer. Colm was seven years old. He’d never experienced anything like it. The whole country had gone soccer-mad.
Colm was the smallest kid in this soccer match. The lads in the estate – especially his own brothers – were so competitive when it came to sport. They treated every game of soccer like it was the actual World Cup.
Colm’s brothers Mark and Vince were the captains. They went through all the lads until Colm was the only one who hadn’t been chosen.
‘C’mon Colm you’re with us,’ Vince said.
‘Why did you pick me last?’ Colm said to Vince. ‘I’m better some of these lads.’
‘Don’t take it personally,’ Vince said. ‘You’re the youngest of anyone here.’
It was the first summer that his brothers let him play in their soccer games.
‘You’re too small,’ they used to say.
But Colm was getting better at soccer. Even if he was just seven years old, Colm was more skilful on the ball than some of his neighbours like Paddy or Niall, lads who were almost twelve years old. Colm knew he would have to prove to them how good he was. He didn’t mind.
The two teams lined up across the green. The pitch on the Ardshan green was makeshift. There were no lines. There were no markings. They used jumpers for goals. But in the imagination of all the Ardshan kids, the front green was like the Stadio Olimpico in Rome, with 100,000 people in the terraces going mad.
‘We’re Ireland!’ Mark shouted.
‘No, we’re Ireland!’ Vince shouted back.
All that summer, Colm and the kids on the green had spent days and night pretending they were the Boys In Green and singing about the Ireland team and their coach Jack Charlton:
‘We’re all part of Jackie’s army, we’re all off to Italy. And we’ll really shake them up when we win the World Cup because Ireland are the greatest football team!’
Gaelic football was Colm’s favourite sport, but he also loved playing soccer with the other kids in the estate. He loved having the ball at his feet. When he played he wanted to be like John Barnes, the England striker who played with his favourite club, Liverpool.
The game kicked off. Colm stole the ball from his brother Mark. He dribbled past one player, then nutmegged another. He was clear on goal and about to shoot when … thwack … Mark came in and slide-tackled him from behind.
‘Fair tackle,’ Mark shouted. ‘I got the ball first!’
Maybe it was a fair tackle, but it was also very painful. Colm’s ankle was bruised and really sore. He felt like crying, but if he did, he knew they wouldn’t let him play anymore.
Vince gave him a hand up.
‘You need to see those challenges coming, Colm,’ Vince said. ‘Otherwise you’ll end up with two broken ankles!’
Colm nodded and dusted himself off. He’d have to be tougher and smarter if he wanted to play with the bigger kids.
Colm’s mother stuck her head out the front door.
‘Lads, it’s nearly kickoff. The anthems are on.’
With that, the game stopped immediately and everyone sprinted for their own house to watch the match.
Colm and all of his brothers spread themselves around the sitting room. Their parents and two sisters were already watching the match. They arrived back as Amhrán na bFhiann was being played.
‘C’mon Ireland!’ they all shouted.
It was a different than watching a Gaelic football match on TV. It was slow and so tense.
‘Pretty much everyone in Ireland is watching this match,’ Karen said. ‘Imagine.’
Romania wore bright yellow jerseys and had lots of skilled footballers, but the Irish defence was impossible to break down.
It was scoreless at half-time. It was scoreless at fulltime.
‘This is going to penalties, isn’t it?’ Colm’s dad said.
He was right. Colm’s sister Geraldine had to leave the sitting room, she was too nervous. Both countries made their first four penalty kicks. Colm’s mam started to pray the rosary in the other room.
Timofte, a Romanian, took the fifth, but it was saved by Bonner! David O’Leary stood over the penalty to win the match for Ireland.
‘A nation holds its breath…Yes! Ireland are through to the quarterfinals of the World Cup!’
All the Coopers jumped up and hugged each other in the middle of the sitting room. Colm couldn’t remember a time when he had seen his family so happy.
‘Let’s go for a spin!’ Colm’s dad said after the post-match interviews were over.
All seven Cooper kids piled into the family car. Everyone was driving around Killarney honking their horns. People were sticking out of car boots and sun roofs and car windows, screaming ‘Ireland! Ireland!’ and waving Irish flags.
At the Ballydowney roundabout, people were jumping up and dancing, waving the tricolour.
‘This is the power of sport, kids,’ Colm’s dad said. ‘Remember the feeling because Ireland might not be in many more World Cups!’
Colm wondered what it must be like for the Ireland players. It must be such an amazing feeling, Colm thought, to be on the pitch today. With the whole world watching, those boys in green delivered.
