Nothing like some unexpected news to clear the head

AG AINST THE ODDS:THE VOICE on the end of the phone was brusque, business-like, and prompted Vinny Fitzpatrick to stand to his attention, even though he was less than a mile away. "Mr Fitzpatrick, this is George Boyd speaking. A situation has arisen in Causeway Avenue which requires your attention. I suggest a reconnaissance, say thirteen hundred hours? I will serve tea."

With that, the phone disconnected, leaving Vinny making a mock salute to no one in particular. Colonel Boyd had that affect on him. The whiskered colonel was recently retired and more recently installed in Vinny’s old family home with two large labradors, Wellington and Rommel.

After the unfortunate episode involving Spud Murphy, the previous tenant, which very nearly led to a spell in the clink, Vinny was blessed that the colonel had agreed to take up residency for a year, albeit at a reduced monthly rate of €600.

The Colonel had moved in a month ago, his paperwork complete, and this was his first contact since. Vinny wondered was his famous old telly kicking up again. He prayed there wasn’t a problem with the gas, or worse, the waterworks.

It was a glorious Sunday morning and Vinny could do with the 15-minute walk down to the coast to help blow away the Guinness-infused cobwebs, a legacy of a splendid Saturday of sport, staking and slurping. Over 12 hours, apart from a one-hour break for a double serving of fresh haddock and chips in Burdock’s at teatime, Vinny and his friends played their part in pushing Diageo’s profits through the roof.

Not that they rushed into the gargle headlong. To do so was folly. Like the runners and riders in the Grand National, the lads felt the safest course of action was to find a pitch a little wide on the track where there was less traffic, to set a steady tempo, and then work your way into contention.

Vinny’s betting extravaganza had begun just after noon when he popped into Boru Betting, blew a kiss at Angie behind the counter – it was their busiest day of the year – and placed a score on Everton to win at Wolves at 2 to 1.

By half-time, when his bet was good for €40, the price of nearly 10 pints was covered already.

It had, on reflection, been a heaven-sent afternoon, even if National glory had evaded him. He doubled his stake on The Midnight Club to €40 each-way but missed out as Ruby Walsh’s mount, hampered in running, finished sixth, one place out of the money.

In Compliance, which he’d backed on Betfair at 125 to 1 that morning was never closer than mid-division but a €10 each way on the fourth, State Of Play at 28 to 1, provided compensation.

Foley’s National sweep at a tenner a horse was a Brucie bonus for the lads as Brennie drew Ballabriggs, Fran was on Oscar Time and Shanghai Jimmy pulled Don’t Push It. After roaring their heads off, they collected €350 between them which was generously poured into the drinks kitty. From Aintree to the Aviva, to Augusta, the drama and drink flowed.

Vinny conceded Phil Mickelson’s chances of a fourth Green Jacket were goosed but his tenner each-way on KJ Choi at 66 to 1 kept him hooked. “The poodles won’t sleep easy in Seoul tonight,” cracked Fran as the inscrutable South Korean finished the third round in a tie for second place.

As he turned into Causeway Avenue the lunchtime after the night before, Vinny felt the sea breeze waft in from Dollymount; it was another belter of a day.

Hangover apart, he felt good about himself, content his life had settled down after the health scares of the previous year. His limp was imperceptible, he had almost full movement in his right-hand and mentally he felt sharp – he knew this from his work on the “real time” timetables which were lighting up the great triumvirate of roads, Clontarf, Howth and Malahide, served by routes from his garage.

Approaching the old family home at the tail end of the cul-de-sac, he knew he was fortunate to have a man of reputable character and intelligence like The Colonel in residence. That Scouse scally Spud Murphy had taken him for an expensive ride; it wouldn’t happen again.

Although he had a key, Vinny felt it prudent to ring the doorbell, out of respect. A fat sausagey finger pressed the smartie-like red button and he heard the familiar high shrill inside.

He also heard dogs barking out loudly and could sense their presence on the far side of the door. As he took a step back, Vinny made out a tall shape approaching the stained glass. “Heel Wellington, heel Rommel,” barked a deep voice.

Colonel Boyd was dressed immaculately in tweeds, his snowy handlebar whiskers even more luxuriant than Vinny remembered them. He was a ringer for Colonel Mustard in Cluedo.

“Ah, Mister Fitzpatrick,” he boomed, offering a bone-crushing handshake. “Thank you for coming, and on time too, I like punctuality in a man. Have a seat in the front room, while I fetch the provisions. Don’t mind Wellington and Rommel, they don’t bite, unless I command them to.”

Vinny was intrigued. What was The Colonel up to? After a bit, The Colonel returned with a tray consisting of a pot of tea, two cups and a packet of chocolate goldgrain biscuits. “It’s like this, Vincent, you don’t mind if I address you by your first name, do you? I received a caller at the front door yesterday. It was a female, late 20s, around five foot seven, brunette, quite a looker too. She asked to speak to you.

“I explained that you no longer lived here but I said I would be prepared to help contact you. I inquired about her business and when she told me her background, I suggested she drop by here at 13.15 hours today. She should be here any minute now,” said The Colonel, glancing at his watch.

Vinny had no idea who the mystery caller was. He didn’t know all that many women, certainly not any of the age The Colonel suggested.

“Did she say who she was?” he asked.

With that The Colonel put down his cup. As he did, the doorbell rang and he got to his feet.

“That will be her now. I’ll let her in. Yes, she said who she was alright. Her name is Niamh and she says she’s your daughter.”

Bets of the Week:

1pt each-way Merigo in Scottish Grand National (12 to 1 Boylesports)

1pt each-way Justin Leonard in Texas Open (66 to 1, William Hill)

Vinny’s Bismarck:

2pt Lay Dublin to beat Cork in NHL (6/4, Paddy Power, liability 3pts)