Page 334 of Well Played

RED CARD PENALTY TO THE HEART

BY JULIET MARTINI

For as long as Maeve can remember, Irish sports has been her passion. Working her dream job with a regional office of the GAA, she is recruited to promote the upcoming game between her regional club and the new Olympic Football team during a popular festival weekend. The opportunity should be uncomplicated, until she learns she has to work with the star of the Olympic team, her ex-fiancé Liam McCann.

So, what should she do now that he is back in her life after a six-year absence? Can she even team up with the man who tore her heart to shreds, and destroyed her trust in relationships? Even Liam must know he put a permanent red penalty card on her heart. Or did he?

1

Standingat 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 attendedthese 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 witha 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 heldone 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 personto 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.”

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