“Daddy can you take me to see the Belfast First Fifteen play on Saturday,” Robbie asks, as he looks up at me? 

“What time do they start the match and where is it being held?”

“I don’t know, but Bobby is going with his dad.”

“Okay, I’ll find out and let you know.”

The week started out okay, and I had every intention of ringing Bobby’s dad, Tony Munro, on Monday afternoon. I figured that I would know the time and location of the game by Tuesday, at the latest. But life being what it is, when I finally got around to ringing Tony at home on Monday evening, his wife Natasha told me that he was out of town on business until Thursday night.

By Wednesday, Robbie was clearly starting to get a little worried that I might not be good for my word.  He waited until T.V. 3 Sport was on, before he made his move. The sports commentator was interviewing the Wallabies rugby coach Robbie Deans. Dean’s was explaining his decision to replace their injured flanker Rocky Elsom, with Phil Waugh, for the up coming Second Bledisloe Test, in Auckland, on Saturday. The commentator was suggesting that it was a smart move to bring Waugh in, as it provided the opportunity to partner him with open-side specialist George Smith. He concluded, that these two could be used effectively, to shut down the impact that the All Black’s Richie McCaw would have on the game.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy”

“Yes”

“I know Richie McCaw”

“How do you know Richie McCaw?” Thinking I’ll play along, as I know my boy has never had the chance to meet the All Blacks Captain.

Robbie sandwiches each one of his little hands around my big paw and tries to pull me off the couch.

“C’mon Daddy I’ll show you Richie. He’s in my bedroom.”

I shake my head. Still tugging on my hand, my kid insists.  “C’mon Daddy I’ll show you Richie.”

I follow him to his bedroom.

“See, there’s Richie McCaw. Isn’t he the greatest? He’s the Captain of the All Blacks.” As he says this, his eyes shine with excitement.

I move two steps forward into the small room, to examine more closely the poster on the wall.

“I haven’t seen this before, Son.”

“We bought it at the Warehouse, when Mum took us shopping today.”

I look more closely at the poster. A reddish-blond haired man in his mid-twenties is caught in mid stride. His left arm is covering his chest in classic jogger pose, while his legs are spread wide. He is focused on searching out the owner of the ball; his mouth wide open - either calling out or breathing in heavily. The composition of the picture has been well thought out and conveys the movement and excitement of the game.

“You’re right son; Richie McCaw is in the bedroom.”

Shyly he asks, “Do you think Richie McCaw will be at the First Fifteen game on Saturday?”

“I don’t know Robbie. He might be resting up after the Bledisloe match”

“We are going on Saturday aren’t we Dad?”

“Sure we are Son. I rang Bobby’s Dad, but he’s out of town at the moment. I promise I’ll find out before Saturday, where the game is being held.”

“Okay Dad.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced by my reassurance and so I know I’m going to have to add a sweetener.

“After the match, we can go to McDonalds, and you get to choose what you want to eat. Now doesn’t that sound good?”

“Yeeeees.”

On Thursday, I’m working the phone to get the information I need. I leave a message on the Belfast Rugby Football Club’s answer machine. I’m doubtful that they will get back to me before Saturday, but I always have Tony as a fall-back position.

By Friday, I have heard from both the club and Tony, and the consensus is that the game will be held at Sheldon Park at 11 a.m. I’m really looking forward to seeing the look on Robbie’s face when I tell him the details.

Arriving at the park at 10.45, I’m quite surprised to see that only one father and son have turned up.

Sidling over, the father says “Are you here to watch the game?”

“Yes, my boy is really keen to see the First Fifteen play. I thought there would have been a bigger crowd?”

“Mmmm. We know some of the team don’t we Andy.” 

The kid smiles and nods his head.

 “I thought the players would be warming up by now, given the cold weather.”

I nod my agreement, as I look out over the field and note that the rain is starting to come down heavily.

Just then his cell phone grunts out its text incoming warning. He reaches in his pocket and extracts a pink cell phone with a cuddly teddy bear dangling from its butt end. Looking sheepishly at me as he flips it open and repeatedly hits the central button, he says “It’s my wife’s cell phone. I borrowed it cause I couldn’t find my own this morning. My wife has just told me that she heard on the radio that this game has been cancelled because of the poor weather.”

I look over at Robbie, and can sense his disappointment. His face has become extra slick, and I struggle to separate the wash of the rain on his face, from the tears sliding down his cheeks. I thank the man and walk over to my boy, putting my arm around his shoulders. “I know you were looking forward to this game Robbie, and I’m sorry that it was cancelled. I promise to take you to see not one but two of the next First Fifteen games that this team plays.” I give him a reassuring hug. “How does that sound?”

“That sounds good Dad.”

“Now let’s get back to the car and dry out. I’ll put the heater on so we can warm up on the drive to McDonalds. I haven’t forgotten. You get to choose whatever you want to eat.”