AGAINST THE ODDS: Vinny's views on the National meeting provoke derision, then some wise counsel

ON THE morning after the night before there were a few woolly heads on the bus heading for Monday’s racing at Fairyhouse, Vinny Fitzpatrick and Macker among them. Between the play-off for the US Masters and the late closing time in Foley’s of 12.30, due to the Bank Holiday weekend, the Sunday evening get-together had morphed into an almighty session.

Had it been a usual Sunday, reflected Vinny, everyone could have made it to the Capri and still got home for the play-off between Angel Cabrera, Kenny Perry and Chad Campbell.

But it had been anything but a regular Sunday as pint followed pint, crisp followed crisp and bet followed bet, right to the last roll of the second play-off hole.

For Vinny, the highlight had been the look on Dial-a-Smile’s face when he gleefully ordered a double-round at 25 minutes past 12.

Having had a score on Cabrera on Saturday morning at 15 to 2, Vinny was chuffed at how the Masters panned out; but what had pleased him most about the finale was the sheer tonnage of the play-off trio.

Cabrera, Perry and Campbell didn’t come across as the type of lads who’d join Tiger Woods for a run at dawn, do yoga with Camilo Villegas or dare to match Gary Player in a press-ups competition.

These guys, by today’s chisel-muscled, bicep-bulging standards of the fitness-obsessed US PGA Tour, gave hope to all fatties, thought Vinny.

They each looked like they enjoyed the occasional chocolate chip cookie or Big Mac without it seriously damaging their ability to get the ball in the hole in as few strokes as possible.

“Perry’s nearly 49 and has a big Ned Kelly on him, but still plays the game as well as anyone,” thought Vinny.

There would be no place for Perry or Cabrera, with his agricultural stomp and half-hitched trousers, in the pristine, perfectly-formed world of Woods.

It seemed to Vinny that most of the top golfers spent as much time these days in the gym as they did on the course, mostly because Woods was pumping iron, breaking sweat and winning tournaments.

Yet, not all the leading golfers through the years have been athletic types, reflected Vinny.

Jack Nicklaus was taunted as “Fat Jack”, but was still the world’s best player for 20 years. Lee Trevino and Ray Floyd had paunches but won Majors.

And Craig Stadler won at Augusta too, putting up a few pounds overweight, and Monty wasn’t exactly svelte. Darren Clarke was beating Tiger and Co when he was waddling around, puffing on stogies.

Having convinced himself that that extra poundage was good for your golf game, Vinny turned his attention to the more pressing matters of finding the winner of the Irish Grand National.

As a child, Easter Monday had meant the annual pilgrimage with his old man, Finbarr, in their battered Ford Zephyr out to Fairyhouse.

His first National had been in 1964 when, as a six-year-old, he’d seen the peerless Arkle in his pomp. His dad had lifted him atop the railings opposite the finishing post for a close-up view of the greatest steeplechaser of all time – the memory remained vivid.

Tom Dreaper seemed to win the National every year then, and later his son Jim won the race with Colebridge and Brown Lad.

Vinny had backed them all and would have backed Notre Pere, another Dreaper horse, this year had he not pulled out that morning because the rain hadn’t arrived in time.

As the grandstands came into view on his right, Vinny mused over the lost prestige of the Irish Grand National meeting.

It had much to do with the increased prizemoney and the added Grade One races at Cheltenham and Punchestown, but was also due, he felt, to the vagaries of the timing of Easter.

Depending on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox for the date of Easter always seemed a little suspect in Vinny’s mind.

It meant Easter Sunday could fall any time between March 22nd and April 25th, which had all sorts of implications for Fairyhouse, not to mention, he imagined, school terms.

Turning to Macker, he said: “Why can’t everyone agree on a fixed date for Easter and leave it like that? It would make all our lives much simpler.

“Racing-wise, Fairyhouse suffers when Easter is early, as it was in 2008 when it fell on March 23rd, because it was too close to Cheltenham.

“When Easter is late, as will happen in 2011 when it’s on April 24th, Fairyhouse will run smack into Punchestown week. What will it do then?” he said.

Macker thought for a moment and then replied.

“Are you saying, Vinny, that the Fairyhouse racing authorities get on to the Pope and tell him to stop fiddling about with the dates for Easter?”

Vinny didn’t back off.

“In my view, Fairyhouse needs to break away from its traditional Easter Monday slot and stand on its own two feet with a permanent date, not one that jumps around from year to year. That way everyone in the sport will know exactly when it’s on.

“They said Arsenal would never play anywhere but Highbury, but they did; they said Croke Park would never open its doors to rugby and soccer, but it did.

“Why not fix the Grand National, the Powers Gold Cup, the whole shebang, for the first Sunday in April and see what happens?”

For Vinny, it had been a lengthy speech, one from the heart, but one he felt needed to be said, even if his views lacked support.

As Macker went silent, around him on the bus Vinny heard whispers and giggles. “Yer man’s off his trolley,” said one punter. “No Easter racing at Fairyhouse? Madness,” said another.

As he exited the bus, a little disconsolate, Vinny felt a tug on his arm and looked around. The wrinkled geezer was bird-like in size, unshaven and unkempt, but his blue eyes were lively.

“I’ve been coming here since the days of Prince Regent. For years, it was the best racing show in town, but I only come out of habit now and because I’ve nothing else to do.

“I heard what you said on the bus back there and you’re right. The glory of Fairyhouse has faded and something needs to be done. It won’t happen in my time, but it might in yours.

“By the way, I like the look of Niche Market each-way in the big one,” said the old salt, before coughing up a giant green gob and shuffling off.

Vinny’s Bismarck

2pt Lay Reading for promotion to the Premier League (2/1, general, liability 4pts)

Bets of the Week

1pt each way Camilo Villegas in Verizon Heritage (18/1, Paddy Power)

1pt each way Nine De Sivola in Scottish National (10/1, William Hill)