AGAINST THE ODDS:IT WAS almost clocking off time on Monday evening as Vinny Fitzpatrick carefully nosed his 130 into its allotted parking place in Clontarf bus garage when the radio in his cabin suddenly crackled into life.
“Vinny, you’re wanted in the controller’s office. Start saying your prayers,” said a voice he recognized as Radar Reilly, the long-serving depot jock and resident joker.
Skipping across the forecourt, for a man of considerable bulk he was light on his feet, Vinny tried to look casual, but inside his heart was pounding.
Not a day passed when there wasn’t talk of further redundancies among drivers and he fretted at the notion that the powers-that-be finally had enough of him, a 30-year lifer.
Puffing hard as he climbed the stairways to the office of the controller, known by all as ‘Socket’ Twomey, he gathered his breath at the door before knocking and entering.
Socket was seated behind a desk covered in timetables, many of which had lines drawn through them in bright red marker. Vinny’s heart sank. “This is it. The end of the road,” he thought.
Beckoned to sit, he waited for the handbrake to come off his life. “Ah, Vinny,” smiled Socket. “Thanks for coming up. I’ve a problem and you may be the man to solve it.”
Vinny felt his eyes squint as he wondered what game Socket was playing.
“Next weekend is the Dublin Bus Sporting Challenge and we are the holders, as you know, after your heroics last year,” said Socket. “What you may not be aware of is that Dave Dalton, our captain, has been laid low with a virus and will be out of work for a fortnight.
“I need someone to run the show. You’ve been involved since it started and know the ropes. What do you say?” asked Socket.
For a bit, Vinny said nothing. While he was relieved to still have a job, the thought of being captain meant he couldn’t play in the Banana Cup, so named in honour of the Dublin routes that operated in bunches.
(The 16 and 16A, and 46A, were in a Premier League of their own in this regard, but Vinny took some comfort in the knowledge that they didn’t operate out of Clontarf garage.) As captain, Vinny would have to organise his team, work out the partnerships and worst of all, make a speech at the end of the night. He’d far rather be a player, free of all that hassle, as the might of Clontarf took on the other Dublin garages in sporting combat.
Who knows? He might even have had another shot at glory, like last year when his demon darts clinched the Cup.
“Sure Socket, I’d love to be captain. It would be a privilege,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
“Excellent,” said Socket.
“By the way the four pursuits this year are croquet, bowls, table tennis and baseball. That should cause some fun. Do your best to retain the trophy won’t you?”
With that, he returned to the mass of figures in front of him. Vinny craned his neck for a better look only for Socket to look up, eyebrows raised. “Er, that’ll be all Vinny, thanks,” he said.
Later that night in Foley’s, Vinny’s mind was elsewhere as Liverpool imploded against Aston Villa.
He was busy scribbling down possible partnerships for the Banana Cup, doing his best to put together lads who were compatible as well as being skilful.
“How the Ryder Cup captains do this is beyond me,” he thought to himself.
Around him, Fran and Brennie were in jubilant form. As big Man United heads, they were chuffed at Liverpool’s 3-1 home defeat to Villa.
“More Benitez ignoramus than Benetez adoramus,” quipped Brennie. “How could he have left Alonso go, especially after United, his main rival for the title, had sold Ronaldo? The player he should have pensioned off was Carragher, who can’t run any more.”
Fran then chipped in.
“That result will have done damage to the lads who put the Liverpool lads into their fantasy football team. Apart from Torres, the others have hardly got a point between them.”
At the mention of Foley’s in-house fantasy league, Vinny’s antennae twitched, but he said nothing.
Against his better judgement, for he felt there were far too many variables in the competition, he had coughed up €50 and entered a team.
There were monthly manager awards of €100 and an overall prize of €1,000, but Vinny already suspected he wouldn’t be in the shake-up.
He had tried to separate emotion from hard-nosed professionalism in his selections and had got it horribly wrong.
Feeling that Everton could kick on from last season where they had finished fifth and also reached the FA Cup final, he’d put three of his beloved Blues in his side, goalkeeper Tim Howard, full back Leighton Baines and midfielder Tim Cahill, his favourite player.
On week one, Everton were tanked 6-1 at home to Arsenal, and they had followed up with a loss at Burnley where they’d missed a penalty.
It didn’t end there. Convinced that Man Utd would be miserly in defence, he’d spent heavy on Rio Ferdinand, who was crocked and had missed three games already.
While Stephen Ireland and Frank Lampard had got a few points in midfield, his powder puff attack of Robinho and Kevin Doyle had yet to fire.
About the only thing going for his team was the name, ‘There’s Only One F In Foley’s’, but that was worth diddley squat in the pub bragging rights.
The monthly totals would be printed out next Tuesday and Vinny suspected he’d be in the bottom two or three of the 40-runner field. The September road would be a long one indeed.
“Vinny, how’s your team going?” asked Brennie. “You’re an old hand at this. I bet you steered well clear of Liverpool in your team.” Vinny looked up.
“Of course I did,” he said with a half-hearted smile. “What do you take me for, a complete eejit?”
With that he ordered another round and returned to his Banana Cup homework.
Bets of the Week
1pt ew Andy Roddick in US Open (14/1, Totesport, 7/1 to reach final)
1pt Ireland’s cricketers to beat England in one-day international
(13/2, Stan James)
Vinny's Bismarck
1pt Lay Meath to beat Kerry in All-Ireland SFC semi-final
(7/2, Paddy Power, liability 3.5pts)
