Chapter 1
1
Standing at the entrance to the Gaelic Athletics Association’s Croke Park Stadium, or as everyone in Ireland called it, the “Croker,” Maeve felt a vibrating hum moving down and around her body. Men, women, boys and girls from the four corners of the island who played or watched any of the traditional Irish sports, held this plot of land in Dublin sacred–a great cathedral honoring the GAA. Her own love of the games, especially football, flashed in her thoughts back to the first football match she had attended here with her father, a senior champion with the home team in his youth. The excitement of the game, the cheering of the crowds, as he explained what was happening on the field, instilled in Maeve a lifelong love of the game as both a player and a spectator.
The swell of anticipation and nerves replaced her upbeat spirit, causing her to glance quickly at her watch and note that her meeting with the GAA President and his staff was starting in twenty minutes. Maeve still wasn’t sure what had prompted the GAA President and his staff to ask her to attend this face-to-face meeting. Normally her boss, one of the senior directors representing the subcommittee she worked for in events and fundraising at the Down County’s GAA offices, always attended these meetings. Yet for this meeting, her boss had mentioned that the GAA President had asked for her to attend.
What in God’s name would prompt the GAA President himself to summons her? Maeve remembered vaguely only meeting him once in person, two years ago at the GAA’s Annual Planning Conference in Newry, and another time when he came to her office for a meeting with her boss. She didn’t think their introduction was so earth shattering that it would have left an impression on him. So, with little more details that a meeting was happening or what it might be about, she left early this morning for the hour’s drive south to Dublin from her home in Warrenpoint, Co. Down.
Quickening her pace, she found her way to the entrance doors labeled ‘Corporate Offices,’ and rang the buzzer, just to the right of the glass doors. A security guard appeared after a minute or two and opened the door to greet her.
“Good morning, Ma’am. How can I help you?”
Maeve smiled, feeling suddenly ancient to be addressed as ‘ma’am.’ He couldn’t have been only a few years younger than her, yet his formal and mature address made her feel unexpectedly old for of her 28 years of earthly existence. Glancing at his name tag, she took a quick inhale of breath before responding.
“Good morning Guarda Kilpatrick. I’m Maeve Quinn from the Down County GAA Office. I have a 10:00 meeting with President Burns and his staff.”
“Yes ma’am. I was told to expect you.” Guarda Kilpatrick held the door open to usher her in, then used a sweep of his arm to draw her attention to the countertop where a clipboard sat. “If you could please show me your photo identification, then sign in over here. I can issue you a visitor’s badge.”
“Thank you.”
Waiting for her badge, Maeve looked around the modern decor of the entrance lobby, a blend of beige tones walls, warm oak wood and gleaming white ceramic flooring, lit by the bright natural light pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows, with a view beyond showcasing the pristine green manicured pitch where hundreds of games had played out. A wood carving of the GAA logo hung in a place of prominence in the center of the room, with two massive flatscreen monitors on either side, playing a loop of game highlights and commentary. This was one of those moments she had to stop from pinching herself, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming—how lucky was she to be working in the job she loved, that any diehard Gaelic games fan would kill for to be this close to where sports magic transpired?
“Thank you for waiting, Ms. Quinn.” Guarda Kilpatrick handed Maeve a lanyard with a ‘visitor’ identification badge hanging from it. “You will find the elevator just past the monitor on the right, and across from the portrait of Archbishop Croke of Cashel. The boardroom is on the fourth floor, and Aisling Murphy will meet you. Enjoy your time at Croker, and welcome.”
“Thank you.”
Locating the elevator, Maeve hit the up button and waited for its doors to open. Upon entering the elevator, Maeve mumbled a thank you prayer as she noticed the mirrored wall, allowing her to check if her dark navy skirt was wrinkled from the morning drive or if her capped-sleeved butter yellow and pistachio green linen blouse highlighted any unsightly perspiration marks under her arms. The weather had been uncharacteristically hotter than usual weather for mid-July. Wetting her finger with her tongue, she ran her finger under each eye, clearing away any possible dark mascara smears or dark circles, before checking to make sure her shoulder length dark stout colored hair was still in two French braids on either side of her head, securely fastened with a barrette at her nape. Nodding an approval to her reflection, she turned to face the doors as they opened.
A tall, slender woman with auburn hair streaked with blonde highlights, and wearing a red and black geometric printed wrap dress, greeted her with a smile, extending a hand towards Maeve as she stepped off the elevator. Maeve studied the woman for a few second and had the curious feeling that she had met her somewhere before, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“My God, welcome Maeve! It’s great to see you after all these years! You may not remember me, but we were on the Queen’s University Women’s Football Team. I’m Aisling Murphy, the director of Communications and Media Relations here at the GAA.”
Maeve’s expression went from sudden shock to familiar realization. She remembered Aisling during her time as a left corner forward, while Aisling was their star goalkeeper on the Queen’s team. Those had been great times, and they had been friendly as any teammates could be, despite a few bumps during her senior year in college. Aisling had been one of the few people who had supported her during that time, and a sense of loss engulfed her, realizing that their team and collage relationship had faded over the last six years.
“Wow, isn’t it a small world as they say–I thought it was you!” Maeve moved into the hug Aisling was offering, hugging her back with the same enthusiasm before stepping back. “I had thought you moved to the UK to study journalism or something like that. Tell me, how long has it been? Friend to friend–did you ever lock down Aiden Chapman in the marriage department? You both were inseparable when we graduated. If I remember, doesn’t he now play for Dublin?”
“Gosh, has it been six years and that championship game against Dublin City? Yes, Aiden is around; we’ve been married for three years now.” Aisling held up her ring finger that held one of the biggest diamonds Maeve had ever seen. By her quick calculations, it was at least five carets, not counting the pave diamond band.
“Congratulations!”
Aisling waved off her good wishes with a flip of her hand and a turn of her head, as she wordlessly directed her to follow her down the hall. “I admit, it was rough going for a while, with Aiden trying to decide if he wanted to continue as a footballer. You and I both know amateur sports do not pay, and we all do it for the love of the game–am I right? Anyway, one day he took over his father’s investment firm and then opened a second office in Dublin. We reconnected by chance and realized we just couldn’t live without each other. Then by sheer luck, The Dubs made him an offer he just couldn’t refuse.”
“Amazing. I must admit, at first, I didn’t put two and two together, that it was my former teammate Aisling Murphy, who is now on President Burn’s staff. During my time studying for my masters in sports management and event fundraising in America, I lost contact with many of our teammates. I’ve only been back in Warrenpoint and working for the Down GAA for the last two years.”
“Losing touch with old teammates, I understand what you mean. Trust me … I’ve been working here long before Aiden joined The Dubs. I paid my dues with the Communications and Media Office since I cut short my studies in the UK. No regrets. It’s been five years now.
But enough about me. When I was familiarizing myself with the staff list for Down GAA, I was wondering if the Maeve Quinn listed on the Fundraising and Events subcommittee was you. I mentioned our connection to President Burns. Of course, he called to chat with your bosses and remembered meeting you at the Planning Conference a couple of years ago. I was lucky enough to be right in my assumptions for the perfect person to help us out. Your reputation with the local Down teams is excellent.”
“Thank you, Aisling. This is a serendipitous reconnect. It’s so great to see you after all these years. But honestly, my boss hasn’t given me any details to why I’m here. Could you give me a hint?”
“We need someone to help us out on an important GAA event who is not only from the Down region, but a resident of Warrenpoint. Plus, with your background as a former player, you are the best woman for the job.”
“Thanks, but can you give me a bit more details? I’m not sure just what you would like me to do.”
Aisling giggled in amusement.
“All in good time. I’m just thrilled we are going to be working together. Why don’t we make our way into the boardroom and get settled? Can I interest you in a cuppa or a bottled water?”
“A water would be grand. Thanks.”
Pulling open the boardroom door, Aisling escorted Maeve in. The room was enormous, yet comfortable with its soft black leather chairs around a highly polished oval dark walnut table, reflecting ghostly images of people and items in the room. A long rectangular media screen flanked one end the table above a credenza constructed with the identical dark walnut wood as the table. Yet to Maeve, the true centerpiece of the room was the same floor to ceiling windows as in the reception lobby looking out over the expanse of the stadium.
As Aisling placed a glass and a bottle of water in front of her, Maeve sat down facing the windows, turning in her chair to remove her notebook and iPad from her shoulder bag, before looking up to thank Aisling once again for her hospitality.
“Just make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to grab the rest of the group and tell them you’re here and we’re ready to start. And so, I don’t forget, let’s make plans when I come down to your office for updates. It will be fun to catch on the craic over a pint.”
“For sure.”
As she watched the door close, she found herself alone in the conference room. Standing up, Maeve walked towards the bank of windows to look out. She couldn’t get over the view from this high up. The view was breathtaking, giving her a sensation of floating.
This was not a perspective many had the luck to see during a game or other events as fans. It boggled her mind that this stadium could hold 82,000 with people cheering or singing at the top of their lungs.
“Spectacular view, isn’t it?”
Maeve turned around to see Jarlath Burns, the President of the GAA, walking across the conference room towards her. The famous Midfielder from the Armagh County team, a past winner of two McKenna Cup titles and famous for managing the Ireland women’s international rules football team to a victory against Australia in 2006, was in Maeve’s opinion the premier football spokesperson and leader for managing and running the association. He had contributed to the huge push forward for getting more young people interested and involving themselves in traditional Gaelic games and keeping Irish culture flourishing.
“Yes, it is.” Maeve extended her hand towards President Burns to offer a handshake, as he smiled and grasped her hand with both of his.
“Maeve Quinn, it is a pleasure to see you again. Your new ideas impressed me at our last meeting for raising funds to help local teams finance the hundreds of youth teams across Ireland. Chairperson Devaney has given you rave reviews. I’m thrilled you could take the time to meet with us. Before we start, let me introduce you to my team here at GAA. As you are already aware, many have been here for years and have been a tremendous asset helping me”
President Burns gestured at the conference table. “Please let’s sit.”
As he introduced everyone standing around, Maeve murmured greetings while shaking each person’s hand before everyone began pulling their chairs out to sit. While people continued chatting with each other and asking her general questions, she saw Aisling distributing meeting packets to everyone around the table. A fleeting look passed between the two of them, as Aisling winked and smiled in conspirator support.
Once the meeting packs were distributed and everyone settled into their seats comfortably facing each other, President Burns initiated the meeting.
“Thank you again, Maeve, for taking the time to join us. As you are already aware, the GAA has been working closely with all the county teams across Ireland in providing aid and ideas to continue promoting our national sports and Irish culture to grow across Ireland and worldwide. We have a rare opportunity that we would like Down GAA to take part in as we prepare for the upcoming Summer Olympic games in four years.”
“Of course. I’m very aware of the GAA’s Strategic Plan, and if I remember correctly, the goal is to earn more recognition for our sports and becoming an ongoing part of the International Olympic Games. With more recognition, we can grow our sports’ movement and compete with international teams who have established their own Gaelic football clubs.
“Exactly. I believe you know that the International Olympic Committee has approved the first step for this recognition. Over 450 international Irish game teams will showcase their skills in a series of exhibition matches at the 2028 Summer Olympic Games - all eligible for medals. If all goes well, Irish games will become a permanent addition to the list of Olympic sports member countries can send teams to compete in.”
“I agree, this is very exciting. I can assure you Down GAA is willing to assist in any way possible to support this opportunity. Our current team has several members, both from the women’s and men’s teams, asked to train and try out for these flagship Olympic teams.
“And so, I am requested your help, with a unique opportunity to take part in.”
“How can I … I mean … we help?”
Aisling raised her hand. “If I may, President Burns?”
“Please, be my guest.”
“Maeve, we understand that the annual Wake the Giant Festival is scheduled in three weeks for the beginning of August in Warrenpoint.”
“Yes, it’s a huge yearly event focusing on our mythology and the region around Warrenpoint and the Mourne Mountains. Families and people come from all around Ireland to take part and renew their love of our past through stories and activities.”
“I suggested to President Burns and the rest of the staff that this would be the perfect public event for creating buzz for our teams, and a brilliant opportunity to launch our social media and marketing campaigns promoting Celtic sports. This will give fans the opportunity to see not only the stars of their home teams who might be representing Ireland in four years, but to meet them in person as they play against their county teams.”
Pausing for a brief second before commenting, Maeve understood what a great opportunity this could be for her fundraising to promote Down GAA and their 46 clubs. Having the Olympic team available and made up of current GAA players was a marketing goldmine of promotion to help those struggling smaller clubs grow and encourage more youth and adult participation.
“What a grand idea. Of course, I’m on board and want to do as much as I can. I’ve worked many times with the Council who hosts this event, and the turnout numbers are staggering. Especially because the festival promotes itself as a family activity. However, I’m not sure if I have enough staff and volunteers who can get this event in place and moving forward in such a short time. With only three weeks away, it’s tricky.”
“That’s not an issue,” President Burns commented. “In fact, Aisling here will be happy to coordinate with the Olympic Team administrators any logistics of getting our players to Warrenpoint and the stadium in Newry for the actual competitions and meet and greets to test out this type of promotion. We’ve asked and recruited various team players who play on many of the county teams to help with this and other one-on-one events, since they have a personal connection to those teams and the counties.”
“An excellent approach to generating excitement,” Maeve interjected.
“In fact, Maeve, one of our players from the Olympic team, accepted our offer to head up coordinating the players for Down taking part at the Festival Weekend. Down is truly lucky to have such a star, and I had hoped he would be here by now. I know he was running late, so hopefully, you can meet him shortly …”
Maeve felt the power shift in the room as the conference door clicked open behind her. A familiar voice stumbled over a string of “sorry’s” that fueled mini movies rushing back from deep inside the memory banks of her brain. Even six years couldn’t erase that deep whiskey laced voice and his commanding physical presence, filling all the open crevices in the room, leaving no question to who was standing behind her.
“Fricking brilliant … just fricking brilliant,” Maeve mumbled to herself as she tried to release a breath she was holding, trying to not choke on the lump growing in her throat, as warning sirens went off in her ears.
“Sorry I’m late. You can never judge morning traffic trying to get into Dub’s Center, even if the tunnel was jammed. I hope I didn’t miss anything.”
Maeve’s chest continued tightening as President Burns spoke; his words of introduction making her want to run from the room as fast as she could.
“No problem, Liam. I think you know mostly everyone here. For those who may not, aside from your athletic prowess as a center for The Mournesmen — let me introduce all of you to …
Maeve turned her chair slowly around to face the only man who had ever used her heart like his own personal football, kicking it through a goal post six years ago.
Liam McCann … her ex-fiancé.