Vinny faces a sticky wicket in annual grudge game

AGAINST THE ODDS:A 17st frame does not spell confidence for Vinny as he faces Dollymount Inn in Foley's annual Taverners' cricket game, writes Roddy L'Estrange

TO EXCITABLE cries of "catch it", Vinny Fitzpatrick stirred down by the boundary rope and broke into what could best be described as a gentleman's saunter.

Keeping his eye on the ball as it arced to his right, Vinny made ground before realising his little fat legs weren't quite scurrying swiftly enough.

With a mighty effort, Vinny flung himself full-length, a ham-sized right fist outstretched. His 17-stone frame smacked the ground with a bone-shaking thud, a split-second before the ball landed, just inches away.

Winded, he lay on the outfield like a beached whale, and was still gasping for breath when Macker arrived. "For heaven's sake Vinny," he said. "They've just run four and you're lying there enjoying the sun. Get up, will you."

The 21st annual midsummer Taverners' cricket match between Foley's and the Dollymount Inn at Castle Avenue was always keenly contested, if, for no other reason, than the losers stood the drinks afterwards.

The pubs played for The Hickcup - named after old Tom Hicks who put up the trophy in 1988 - and it had shone occasional shafts of sunlight into the dark recesses of Vinny's sporting career.

On his captaincy in the summer of '90, he'd taken three wickets for 20 runs with a demon spell of slow, swing-bowling in the rain from the Killester End. While his heroics in the '98 match, when he smashed two fours off the final over for victory, was regarded as his finest hour with the willow.

Then, Vinny clung to the last vestiges of youth; today the pounds clung to his expanding girth and ample backside. If truth were known, he had been playing on reputation for some time and was fortunate to make this year's team.

Indeed, had barfly regular Kenny Khan, who once played lower league cricket in Bradford, not cried off at the 11th hour, Vinny would have been carrying the drinks, not carrying the can for an inept fielding display.

The match, as usual, was 20-overs-a-side. Everyone got to bowl, you couldn't be out first ball, there was no leg before wicket and you had to retire at 25 - in his prime Vinny once got to 22 and launched a six half-way to Raheny.

The "Dollyer" boys had won the toss and chosen to bat. As was custom, Willie van der Valk, a 'Bok who claimed he'd gone to school with Barry Richards, opened the batting. He moved briskly to 24, pulled a long hop for four, and then retired for the first of several pint bottles of cider.

Vinny turned his arm in the 13th and 15th overs. They were a shambles. Usually economical, Vinny conceded 18 runs. Not once did he beat the bat and he couldn't complain when Macker, as captain, shunted him out to the sticks.

It was there, mulling over his ineptitude and how he'd virtually emptied his Betfair account over the weekend, by betting against Tiger Woods winning the US Open, that he'd fallen flat on his face. Soon after, the Dollyer lads completed their 20 overs, having amassed 128 runs, the second highest total in Hickcup history.

In the changing-room between innings, a feisty Macker tore into his side. "You can either go out there and make a match of it or stay here and play tiddlywinks. Now what's it to be?"

The batting line-up was sorted out. Macker was opening with Fran. Brennie and Kojak were in the middle order; Vinny and Shanghai Jimmy were the tail-end Charlie's. "With a bit of luck, Vinny, we won't be needed," said Shanghai. "C'mon let's have a jar and watch the football."

Now, Euro 2008 had been an unmitigated disaster for Vinny. Three times he'd backed Miroslav Klose to score for Germany and lost, while Fernando Torres let him down in the opening game so he didn't back him in the second when, naturally, he'd scored. Foley's sweep wasn't going his way either.

Placing himself where he could see the telly and the outfield, he settled down for a pint beside Jimmy, who was all chat about Turkey's get-out-of-jail effort against the Czech Republic on Sunday. "I could collect on the Turks yet," he said.

Out in the middle, Macker caressed the ball beautifully as Foley's embarked on a run chase. Fran provided ballast and the pair put on 35 for the first wicket in jig time before Fran played on and was bowled.

When Macker retired, undefeated on 25, Foley's were cruising at 60 for two wickets after eight overs. The run-rate ticked along, but wickets tumbled and by the time they were on 111 - the dreaded Nelson - they were six down.

Vinny and Shanghai Jimmy were now three pints down and had just ordered a fourth when Macker told them to pad up. "You two might be needed and I want you sober."

Soon, the eighth wicket fell and as Shanghai Jimmy shuffled out to bat, Foley's required 10 runs off the last over to win. That became six as Brennie sweetly clipped a ball off his toes for four.

Then, disaster struck as Brennie was bowled attempting a cut. Macker groaned as Vinny heaved himself to his feet and, burdened down by pads and loose-fitting protective box, waddled into bat.

Four balls left, six runs needed and out-of-form Vinny was on strike. Worse, he had to face the bowling of Van der Valk, his countenance glowing with the effects of the cider coursing through his veins.

The first delivery was fast and true. Vinny wafted his bat and missed, the ball cracking the middle stump. "Not out," called the umpire. "First ball."

Three balls left, six runs needed. Vinny took a deep breath, looked around and spied a gap in mid-on. If only he could find it.

The next ball was short of a length and Vinny swung his bat like a dervish, spearing the ball improbably for four.

Two balls left, two runs needed. Van der Valk came steaming in with a quickie, this time down the leg side. It invited a wristy tickle but Vinny's movement was laboured and he missed.

One ball left, two runs needed. Van der Valk set his field back towards the boundary before racing in and unleashing a snorter which pitched and fizzed towards the stumps. Somehow, Vinny made contact, squirting the ball past gully at pace. "Run, Vinny run," screeched Shanghai Jimmy from the other end.

Puffing hard, Vinny covered the 22 yards, touched his bat down and turned, Titanic-like, for the second. One run needed to win.

By now Vinny could see the ball being gathered away to his left, could see the fielder about to throw the ball towards the stumps. What Vinny couldn't see was Shanghai Jimmy, head down, advancing straight for him.

Half-way down the wicket, the pair collided, Vinny skittling skinny Shanghai Jimmy for six before spinning like a top and collapsing to the turf.

As stars floated before his eyes, he heard joyous shouts of "howzat" nearby. One run needed and Vinny Fitzpatrick had fallen short, in every sense.

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