Captain's contest turns into battle Royal

AGAINST THE ODDS:The Duke is decked and the Spider stretched, but when the red mist clears in Foley's, Vinny's supporters make him an offer he can't refuse

IF THE scramble for the leadership of Fianna Fáil was a short, sharp, shock, the canvassing for captain of Foley’s Golf Society had begun in earnest three weeks ago, from the moment notice of the agm arrived by post.

There were two candidates, unemployed artisan Seán “Spider” O’Toole and indolent artiste Charles St John Vernon, one lived in a flat above the butcher’s; the other had more land in Dublin 3 than the Church and schools combined.

What they shared was a love of Foley’s pints and a common goal: the right to wear the scarlet captain’s blazer in the 50th year of the society’s existence where the calendar highlight was the Captain’s Prize at Royal Dublin in mid-summer.

For the golden jubilee the boat was being pushed out and a trip to “Royler” had been confirmed for Monday, June 20th.

Vinny’s game was in rag order but he felt if he could eliminate his destructive snap hook and the jigs on the greens, he wouldn’t be disgraced.

To win the “Claret Jug” was probably beyond him now but as long as he avoided the indignity of the “Big Mug” for the worst score on the day, he would be satisfied.

The agm was set for the fourth Monday of the year in the back bar in Foley’s, just as it had been since 1962 when “the soiled and ancient” society, as they were known, were imperfectly formed.

Vinny received his first tap on the shoulder after racing on Saturday when he popped into Foley’s for a loosener; it was Spider, a bandy-legged ex-jockey who never quite made the grade and was now wider than he was tall.

“Alright, Vinny, care for a pint?” said Spider with mock innocence.

Before it had been pulled by Dial-A-Smile, Spider had cut to the chase. “Vinny, you carry a lot of influence in the society and with your support, I can win this contest for captain.

“We go back a long way. Remember that time I gave you a winner at Baldoyle? I’ll leave that with you.” With that Spider sidled away.

It was true Spider had once tipped him that winner, at a fair price too, but he’d also supplied a litany of losers over the years.

Still, Spider’s connection to the sport of kings was a plus in Vinny’s book; it helped too that on the golf course Spider played with the speed of a two-mile hurdler, unlike a lot of the others, including the bould Charlie Vernon.

Tall and toffee-nosed, Charlie had a regal bearing and an arrogance to match.

Nicknamed “The Duke”, he was, by some margin, the slowest golfer in the society and was often put in a two-ball to ensure he’d finish before darkness.

His specialty was looking for balls after wayward shots. “Given enough time, I’m confident of finding it,” he’d say, before disappearing into the whins armed with a wedge and dollops of supreme optimism.

The Duke sent a round of complimentary drinks over to Vinny’s crew on Sunday evening, raising a deferential glass and a smile from his customary perch inside the door.

It was a generous gesture for which The Duke was well known – Skinner Reynolds, the treasurer, had let it slip that cheques, signed by Charles St John Vernon, had bolstered the society’s ailing finances over the years.

But was his munificence sufficient to bag the coveted blazer? Due to the palaver over the captaincy, there was a greater gathering than normal at the meeting. The Duke had about a dozen supporters in his corner, including the fearsome Lugs O’Leary, while Spider had a similar following.

In the middle sat Vinny and his regular crew of Fran, Macker, Brennie, Kojak and Shanghai Jimmy. Everyone knew how the outcome of the vote hinged on the verdict of this undecided sextet.

Over a pint beforehand, Vinny and the lads had agreed a simple strategy. They would vote, en bloc, for the candidate who impressed most on the night.

Initially, the agm followed a predictable path. A suggestion from Skinner to increase the annual subscription from €80 to €100 was shot down, while the fixture list showed 10 outings for the year, only two of which were sponsored, by Foley’s and Boru Betting.

By the time of the crucial vote, throats were lubricated and the air tickled with tension. Skinner invited Spider to speak first. Using a verbal whip, Spider went for The Duke.

“Lads, it’s time this society moved on, or in Charlie Vernon’s case, moved at all. I play the game like I lead my life, quick and to the point. The sooner I get around, the sooner I’m back at the bar.

“A vote for me and we’ll be back in Foley’s by sunset after every outing. A vote for Charlie Vernon and we’ll be sending out search parties at midnight.”

There was a cheer from the Spider camp; he’d played a smart card. How would The Duke respond?

Rising slowly to his feet, The Duke coughed and reached inside his jacket pocket. He took out reams of paper, adjusted his pince-nez and began.

The Duke reminded the meeting of his family’s historic links with Clontarf, that his father had been a founder member of the society, and how his contacts had secured a date at “Royler” for the Captain’s Prize.

He then revealed his joker. “As a gesture of support for this wonderful company of golfers, I’d like to donate €5,000 to the treasurer to help the society through these troubled times.”

With a theatrical flourish he solemnly presented a cheque to a startled Skinner Reynolds.

Instantly, Spider was off his feet “You can’t bribe your way into office,” he thundered. “That’s a blatant act of corruption.”

Charlie Vernon looked at Spider as if he was something nasty stuck to the bottom of a shoe. “How dare you, a failed jockey, accuse me? It’s a political contribution, something you’d know nothing about, little man.”

It was the cue for mayhem. Spider threw a punch, which caught The Duke on his withers. He replied by adopting a southpaw stance and picked off Spider with a sweet jab.

Soon enough, Lugs O’Leary waded in, throwing haymakers at random while Spider’s crew grabbed stools and began swirling them around like scimitars. There was carnage.

It was much later when Vinny and Macker, sated with stout, weaved their way drunkenly towards the toilet. Onlookers compared the pair to Laurel and Hardy trying to negotiate the piano up a flight of steps.

That any member of the dishonourable company of Foley’s Golf Society should have been permitted to remain in the pub seemed incongruous given the earlier rumpus.

But Vinny Fitzpatrick, reluctantly thrust forward as a compromise candidate for the post of society captain when the gunsmoke cleared the battlefield, had, against the odds, landed upright on his trotters.

Bets of the week

1pt each-way Pádraig Harrington in Volvo Golf Champions (12/1, Paddy Power)

1pt each-way Little Josh in Argento Chase (14/1, Victor Chandler)

Vinny's Bismarck

1pt Lay Birmingham City to beat Manchester City in Premier League (3/1, general, liability 3pts)