AGAINST THE ODDS:Having initially firmly set his face against joining the usual crew for the annual visit to the Grand National at Fairyhouse, Vinny has a late change of heart

ON EASTER Monday morning, Barney’s Bus was tethered in its usual place, outside Foley’s pub in Clontarf, at its usual time, 12 noon; its Leyland diesel engine growling.

Only there wasn’t a sinner on board, which was odd even allowing for the tardy pace of the racing pilgrims, who rarely broke into a canter when a trot would suffice.

Some of the travellers were inside Foley’s enjoying a pre-race snifter, for it was a chilly morning, but Vinny Fitzpatrick was not with them, which was also curious.

It was, after all, Vinny who had persuaded Old Man Foley, a miserable skinflint, to provide transport for his regulars to and from Ratoath for the Irish Grand National.

And it had been Vinny who’d convinced Boru Betting to provide free betting vouchers for the Irish National dream-chasers who shuffled into the bookies corner shop 364 days of the year.

The first “Fairyhouse Folly” in 1990 had coincided with the presence of Desert Orchid at Fairyhouse and tickets for Barney’s Bus had been like gold dust; not any more. Now, you could amble up and pick your seat in comfort.

Having chalked up 22 successive appearances, Vinny had formally withdrawn on Sunday evening, just ahead of the final round of the Masters, to the consternation of the lads. Amid Brennie’s banshee wailing and Fran’s frowns about how Shanghai would have loved to be going, Vinny stood his ground and stood up to his friends.

“I’m not going to Fairyhouse under false pretences,” he said. “Youse know me, I love my sport, especially at the top end but the Irish National doesn’t float my boat any more.

“I saw Arkle, L’Escargot, Brown Lad, and ‘Dessie’ run in the Irish National. They were great horses; great days. But I’m fed up going to Fairyhouse to watch ordinary horses fight over an extraordinary prize. As soon as a decent Gold Cup horse runs again in the National, I’ll be back. Until then, it’s time to take a stand.

“For what’s it’s worth, I predict the race will be won by a long-shot carrying less than 11 stone. I hope youse find that needle in the Fairyhouse stack you’re looking for but you’ll be looking for it without me.”

Initially, Vinny’s trenchant position had cast a shadow over the final round of the Masters, but soon the lads were hooked by every enthralling twist and turn of events at Augusta. For Vinny, who had been convinced the course favoured left-handers ever since little-hitting Mike Weir won, the night was a financial windfall as he cleaned up on Bubba Watson, whom he’d backed, a tenner each-way, at 50 to 1.

As a Brucie bonus, he’d €20 each-way at 12 to 1 on another lefty, Phil Mickelson, who tied third. By his reckoning, he was more than €600 to the good, which explained his late night offer to stand bags of curried chips to the lads from the Capri – only taciturn Macker accepted.

As the old friends, one roly-poly, the other rake-like, shuffled along the promenade on Clontarf Road, leaning into one another slightly for support, for it had been a long night, Vinny sensed Macker was ill at ease.

“‘Go on, spit it out,” he said. Macker guided Vinny to the bus shelter by the Clontarf depot. “Take a seat for a minute,” he said.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier regarding the Irish National. You were absolutely right. The race has lost its appeal; it’s not helped by the annual jumping about of the date for Easter, and the proximity to Cheltenham, Liverpool and Punchestown.

“But you’re wrong about not going there with the rest of us tomorrow, and I’ll tell you why,” he said, puffing on a hand-rolled fag.

“I look at life like the other Grand National, the one at Aintree next Saturday. On the first circuit, you try not to make mistakes as the jumps come at you fast and furious. You make friends, lose friends; fall in love, fall out of it again. Life is all shiny and new.

“On the second circuit of life, things move at a more sedate pace. You know where you are, who you like being with and you know that arriving at the winning post, never mind what position you finish, is one heck of an achievement.

“Look at us. We’re all in our fifties, except Brennie who soon will be. We all slipped up on the first circuit of life, we all loved a little, lost a little. But we came through it and we have our work, our families and our friends, not all of whom are galloping beside us as we head down towards Beecher’s Brook for the second time. Hold that thought and hold the chips too, I’m off,” he added.

Vinny was left behind, beetle-browed and brow-beaten as it was not often he was put in his place; certainly not by Macker, a 35-year comrade of few words. The next morning, Vinny served Angie a cooked breakfast before his wife dashed off to Boru Betting for one of the busiest Mondays of the betting year. Soon after, Vinny felt it was time for a morning constitution and to collect his winnings.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said to Angie’s striking daughter, Emma, who agreed to keep an eye on the twins. As he ambled down towards the seafront, Vinny spied Barney’s Bus. It was 12.30 and the old bone-shaker was no more than half full.

He could make out the leonine head of The Reverend, in his usual position, riding shotgun to Barney at the front, while Macker, Fran, Brennie and Kojak were in their usual seats down the back. Their heads were bowed which suggested that pontoon had begun.

It struck Vinny that this was the first time in 20 years that Shanghai wasn’t on board. In recent years, they had mocked their old friend for his inability to shuffle the cards and deal properly – they would love to mock him now.

As Barney’s bus pulled away from Foley’s and began the climb up Vernon Avenue, Vinny instinctively stuck out a paw and half-stepped out on the road. “Any seats on top?” he grinned as he boarded with an agility which belied his 54 years.

Vinny's Bismarck

1pt Lay Chelsea to win Champions League (10/1, Ladbrokes, liability 10 pts)

Bets of the Week

1pt each-way Becuaseicouldntsee (Grand National, 22/1, Victor Chandler)

1pt each-way Pádraig Harrington (RBC Heritage, 35/1, Bet365)