Finding Treasure on the Curragh of Kildare

AGAINST THE ODDS:BOARDING BENNY'S bus outside Foley's on Sunday at noon, Vinny Fitzpatrick regretted he hadn't chanced his arm and slipped his thunder-flabby thighs into his army surplus shorts.

On this unseasonably warm day, Benny’s air-conditioning was banjaxed and the cheap plastic seats were already starting to sizzle. Vinny could feel dampness in his withers and he had barely left the parade ring.

Several renewals of the Irish Derby had passed since Foley’s finest wrecking crew had repaired to the Curragh of Kildare for a day of sport, stout and not inconsiderable stakes.

As they entered life’s middle age, the lads were increasingly content to sit on their high stools, supping porter and observing sport on the telly.

And with the Dubs against Kildare in the Leinster semi-final the same day, it had required some lateral thinking by Foley’s and Boru Betting to conjure up a race-day offer to encourage the barflies to swap Clontarf for the Curragh.

For €20, the lads had transport to the course, admission, a race card and a complimentary pint in Foley’s on their return. It was a fair deal and made missing Croker almost worthwhile.

The lads reckoned their last Irish Derby trip had been back in 1997 when a trainer who looked like a choirboy sent out Desert King to win.

Vinny felt it was an omen and had declared over a pre-noon swiftie that Aidan O’Brien would win the big race again. Only on this day the trouble was he wasn’t sure which of O’Brien’s four horses to back.

Not everyone felt they should leave the Derby to O’Brien, and Brennie, ever impulsive, was convinced Carlton House couldn’t be opposed.

“After the visit of her nibs last month, I’m putting my house on Carlton. I’ve got 7 to 4 already and will nibble again when we get there.”

It took 50 minutes to reach the Curragh turn-off, and another 15 to navigate the roundabouts and race traffic snaking its way into the course.

Despite the sticky seats and open windows, the journey passed in jig time as Vinny rolled out a few sporting conundrums. “Lads, name the five racecourses in England and Ireland that don’t have the letters ‘r’ ‘a’ ‘c’ and ‘e’ in their name,” he said. “We’re hitting the M50 now; you’ve got until Newlands Cross.”

Macker quickly came up with Goodwood; Shanghai chipped in with Sligo and Fran was chuffed at plumping for Plumpton.

But the lads ran out of time with Huntingdon and Ludlow, much to their annoyance.

They fared much better with the six English tracks with the same four letters in their name, reeling off Carlisle, Cartmel, Catterick, Doncaster and Redcar before Kojak clicked with Pontefract as Benny’s bus wheezed into the Curragh car park.

It was ten past one, the first race was off at 1.40 and the bus was leaving 10 minutes after the last. “Back in Foley’s by half seven. Perfect,” thought Vinny.

As the lads found their bearings, and made straight for the Vintage Crop Bar, it struck Vinny he had rarely seen so many gorgeous ladies at a racecourse, certainly not at Bellewstown or Laytown where he had summered as a spotty teenager.

Everywhere he turned, it seemed, he was dazzled by fillies in their finery.

Near the Good Food Ireland Village, Vinny spied a tall, graceful lady, clad in a fetching white number and armed with a dazzling smile.

Vinny was sure he knew her but couldn’t put a name to the face, perhaps she was an old school friend of Angie’s. “Howya love, great to see you,” he said, tipping an imaginary forelock as the vision approached

“Oh hello,” replied the lady, pausing to glance curiously at Vinny before continuing past.

“Hey Vinny, didn’t know you were a friend of Rachel Allen?” giggled Fran as Ireland’s leading lady celebrity chef disappeared into the Curragh throng.

Vinny blushed a deep purple. It was, he knew, time for a rapid change of tack.

Coughing, he studied the race card. “I can’t see past O’Brien and Ryan Moore in the first race. I like the name, After. This could be a happy ever After race.”

It certainly was and the 100 to 30 return for €20 got Vinny off to a flying start.

As the afternoon unfolded, Vinny’s pockets began to bulge. Either side of a splendid lamb burger with tomato chutney, he had a nifty-fifty on Lilbourne Lad (9/4) to win the Railway Stakes and another on Invincible Ash (9/2) to win the Sapphire Stakes.

He was on a roll, more than €400 to the good and his fleshy fingers and toes were all a tingle. This was his battleground.

When the lads broke away for ice cream and a cold beer, he mooched over to the parade ring for a first-hand appraisal at the runners in the derby. He took a pitch at the far end of the small oval, where O’Brien, clad in a dark suit and even darker sunglasses, and his coterie of jockeys and Coolmore owners were clustered.

Most trainers barely exchanged a word with jockeys before races but O’Brien was almost animated as he prepped his team.

Vinny sensed the Master of Ballydoyle was leaving nothing to chance, and as he made his way to the betting ring, by now sweating freely, he was certain the English challengers would leave the Curragh empty-handed as they had every year since 1994.

Ignoring the Heineken Cup and Magners League trophy, which were on show, Vinny placed his bets: €100 on Treasure Beach to win; a €20 straight forecast on Treasure Beach and Seville to come first and second; and €10 on a tricast of Treasure Beach, Seville and Memphis Tennessee to finish first, second and third.

By now, Vinny had been exposed to the broiling summer sun for more than two hours and, unlike Aidan O’Brien, he didn’t have a shock of hair to protect his bald pate from the fierce rays.

As the horses milled around at the start, on the far side of the Curragh by the motorway, Vinny felt weak and he had to lean against a railing for support.

He needed a glass of water and could have done with having one of the lads around him but they were all off in the shade slurping cornets.

He thought about texting Macker, but then heard commentator Dessie Scahill, the voice of racing, calling “they’re off” and switched his flagging attention to the spider-like threads across the plain.

It took two minutes and 33 seconds for the race to run its course; and when it was over the 1-2-3 outcome for O’Brien had bagged more than €1.1 million in prize money – roughly €71,000 per second.

Vinny Fitzpatrick was richer too, but he didn’t know it, having collapsed at the furlong pole just as the eight runners turned into the straight.

Bets of the Week

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Vinny's Bismark

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(2/1, Paddy Power, liability 4pts)