AGAINST THE ODDS:Exhausted after his first week of campaigning, Vinny settles down to watch his favourite team, the Green Bay Packers, in the Super Bowl, writes RODDY L'ESTRANGE

KNEES CREAKING, Vinny Fitzpatrick gingerly ascended the stairs into his den in Mount Prospect Avenue, clutching a six-pack and two jumbo-sized bags of cheese puffs under his oxter.

His little trotters were worn out after an exhausting day on the stump when he’d pressed flesh and doorbells in equal measure, and shimmied up countless poles from the railway bridge in Fairview to St Anne’s Park, tethering election posters.

Now was time for rest and relaxation. It was Super Bowl Sunday and Vinny’s favourite team, the Green Bay Packers, were chasing the ultimate prize, the Vince Lombardi Trophy.

Lombardi was a Green Bay legend, famous for building an invincible team in the 1960s as much for his one-liners – Vinny’s favourite was the one about the Packers never losing a game, just running out of time. Since those glory days, the Packers had won one Super Bowl, in 1997, but tonight they started favourites against the formidable Pittsburgh Steelers to bridge a 14-year gap.

Always a champion of the little guy, Vinny loved that Green Bay were the smallest franchise in the NFL, and solely owned by the fans. That there was a 30-year waiting list to become a season-ticket holder, he found staggering.

But what captivated Vinny most about the possible outcome in far off Texas was the fact he had a score riding on the Packers at 66 to 1 to win the Super Bowl. The bet had been placed on the final weekend of the regular season when the Packers needed other results to go their way to advance to the play-offs, and got them.

Since then, they had blitzed the Eagles, Falcons and Bears; now only the Steelers stood between Vinny and a handsome booty of €1,320.

The winnings would go towards covering the costs of the posters and leaflets which had been printed off hurriedly to get his improbable election campaign up and running. The photograph of Vinny flapping on telegraph poles and street lights on the Clontarf Road, it had to be said, wasn’t flattering. Some plain-faced folk were photogenic; Vinny wasn’t one of them.

With his jowly cheeks, bulbous nose, and thin strands of hair slapped across a potato-shaped head, it was, he admitted, a face only a mother could love. But at least, he had managed a smile.

The photo was in black and white, framed by blue and white borders, Everton colours of course. The slogan – “Get In Gear With Fitzpatrick, Putting You First” – was to remind voters of Vinny’s Dublin Bus connection.

Vinny knew his chances of election in this three-seat constituency were about as likely as Everton qualifying for the Champions League but he had taken encouragement from his first week on the hustings.

Unashamedly, he’d played the Seán Loftus card, reminding voters how he once canvassed for the late, great, environmental champion of Clontarf who’d fought 13 general elections from 1961 to 1997 – it was in the 1960s and he’d been given a tanner and an orange for shoving leaflets through letterboxes.

Loftus left a cherished legacy, having thwarted the building of an oil refinery in the bay and successfully leading opposition to Dublin Port Company’s plan to fill in 52 acres of Dublin Bay. He was a champion of the underdog and had been elected to the Dáil in 1981, under the memorable moniker “Seán Alderman Dublin Bay Rockall Loftus”. Briefly, Vinny had considered changing his name to “Vinny Hill 16 Dalymount Goodison Fitzpatrick” but after a pint or two in Foley’s, had thought better of it.

It was agreed by Macker, his campaign manager, that the best time to knock on doors during the week was between five and nine o’clock in the evening, with the weekend set aside for 12-hour blitzes.

Clontarf, where former local TD Ivor Callely had won 7,000 first preference votes in 2007, was the chief battleground, with Macker planning excursions to Coolock, Kilmore and Edenmore in week two of the campaign, then Beaumont, Donnycarney and Marino in week three.

Vinny found folk were chiefly civil and had been pleasantly surprised at how many recognised him from the buses, the bookies and the pub.

Gertie Gorman of the Clontarf Crooners, was tickled pink when he’d knocked on her door on the Stiles Road and had assured Vinny her crew of ageing warblers would give him their number one. “We haven’t forgotten how you got us in and out of town before Christmas,” cooed blue-rinse Gertie.

As he scooted around Dublin 3 as fast as his fat legs would carry him, Vinny picked up a vibe that not having stood for election before was actually a plus; it was as if he wasn’t being blamed entirely for the mess the country was in.

At one point, he found himself at his old family home in Causeway Avenue. Out of curiosity he knocked on a familiar door. He wondered if his chirpy tenant, Spud Murphy, was registered to vote, which he doubted.

The door was opened by an extremely tall raven-haired lady, wearing a cigarette holder and not much else, as far as Vinny could see.

“Hi, I’m here about my election,” he said breezily. “Your what?” she replied huskily. “Oh, sorry, for a minute there, I thought you said something else,” she giggled slyly.

“Er, is Spud around?” asked Vinny, blushing. “If not, could you tell him I called and could you give him this?” he said, thrusting an election pamphlet at the strapping six-footer, who towered over him. “Don’t worry love, I’ll give it to him alright,” she said, closing the door rather too loudly for Vinny’s liking.

It had been one episode of many in a week he found fascinating. But now, for a few hours, the campaign was shelved. It was time for a sup and some nibbles.

Expertly, he drained a can of stout into a pint glass and ripped open the cheese puffs.

He knew the puffs weren’t part of his five-a-day recommended intake but he reckoned he deserved a little break-out after all the exercise. As fans of the Packers were nicknamed Cheese Heads his choice of snack was appropriate and he eagerly dipped a paw into the bag and began to munch.

As the pre-match began, without cheerleaders he noted, Vinny felt warm and content. His legs were like lead, his arms sore and his head began to dip towards his chest.

It was much later, when Vinny woke up. His lap was spattered with cheese puffs and the fingers of his right-hand covered in a dusting of yellow.

He looked at his watch. It was 4.20am and the Super Bowl was over. He had slept through one of most exciting finals in years, had missed his beloved Packers holding off the Steelers for a thrilling win.

He was €1,320 the richer but felt like his pocket had been picked. “What a time to have a bloody fumble,” he cursed to himself before snuggling back into his seat.

Within moments, he was snoring loudly.

Bets of the week

2pts Scotland and Northern Ireland to draw in Nations Cup (9/4, Paddy Power)

1pt each-way Darren Clarke in Dubai Classic (80/1, William Hill)

Vinny’s Bismarck

2pt Lay Woolcombe Folly to win Game Spirit Chase (1/2 general, liability 3pts)