“He has a couple of spare hurleys and sliotars stashed in the utility room,” John told me. “Somehow, I have a feeling that he would enjoy a puck about a lot more with his brother than with a bunch of rugby players.” My heart skipped a beat. “He’s still hurling?” “Like a demon,” John replied with a smile. “He’s hell-bent on following in his big brother’s footsteps.”
Still bawling
