Ryan can barely stifle another laugh.
“Why is he laughing?” Corey asks.
“Because he’s an idiot,” I reply, satisfied.
“Is he laughing at us?” he presses, furrowing his brow. At this point, my brother steps in.
“No, kids. I was laughing at something to do with…us.”
The kids all look at him doubtfully.
Ian gets up and approaches them.
“We’re the…coach’s brothers,” he says, but I know how hard he’s trying not to laugh.
“Cool,” one of them responds. “Do you guys play too?”
“Don’t you watch the matches on TV?” Ryan asks, horrified at the idea that they didn’t recognise him.
He shakes his head.
“So what the hell are you doing on a rugby pitch?”
I elbow him in the ribs to shut him up, but he barely feels it.
“We both play for Leinster,” Ian says, trying to patch up the situation. “With him,” he points towards Jamie, at the other end of the pitch, leading a practice game with his kids.
“What are you doing here?”
“We’ve come here to make fun of the family loser,” Ryan responds breezily.
The kids turn to me.
“Nick’s not a loser,” one of them says.
My brothers fall silent, and I almost keel over onto the grass.
“Yeah, he’s the best,” another adds.
“And you two shouldn’t make fun of him.”
“Guys, they’re only joking,” I say, trying to defend them – not for them, I couldn’t care less about that. But I do it because I don’t want these kids going home and telling their families that the coach and his brothers are arseholes.
“I don’t like it when my brother calls me a loser,” Corey says.
“Does that happen a lot?” I ask him, moved by an empathy I didn’t even know I had.
He shrugs.
“You’re right, it’s not nice,” Ian says, smiling at him. Fatherhood is starting to rub off on him. “But we’re a bit…”
“Stupid?” Corey helps.
“Exactly.”
“What do you say, kids,” I say, trying to regain control of my team and the situation, “shall we go inside and get a drink?”
The kids agree, and head towards the centre.
