Against the odds Roddy L'estrange
Vinny Fitzpatrick checked his watch. It was 9.50 on a spring-like morning. He'd made good time from Dublin's city centre, just as he'd predicted he would - being allowed 65 minutes for an off-peak journey that could be done in 40 presented Vinny with the time to think. He alighted from the 42 bus in the terminus adjacent to the Sands Hotel in Portmarnock, pausing briefly to recall his experiences in Tamangos night club in the early 1980s - almost all of them embarrassing - and took in the splendid sea views.
Due north about seven miles off-shore lay the familiar hump-backed shape of Lambay Island, once the family home of the Barings bank people and, it wasn't widely-known, a dormant volcano. Today, it was populated mostly by rats.
He double-checked the time. In five minutes Macker was due and, as Vinny knew from their outings with Foley's Golfing Society, Macker was a stickler for arriving on the button.
Vinny needed to talk and Macker, well-versed in the ways of the world, was one of the few people he could talk to on the subject of women, or specifically, Angie.
Since their meeting in Foley's a week earlier, Vinny had been in turmoil. He tried to calculate the improbability of his long-odds double that (a) he'd have the courage to ask Angie out on Valentine's night and (b) that she'd accept.
It was three weeks to their "date" and Vinny, who'd cobbled together a plan, was desperate for advice from Macker on whether he could pull it off.
As he gazed out to sea, he spied the famous links of The Island course to his left. "Now there's a track and a half. Better than the 'Marnock and Dollymount (Royal Dublin), in my book," thought Vinny.
Foley's last had an outing there about 10 years ago before it got too expensive and Vinny recalled finishing par-bogey to win class three - he'd felt like Jack Nicklaus, one of his long-time heroes.
The Golden Bear was right up there with Muhammad Ali, Arkle, Alan Ball, Kevin Sheedy, Liam Brady, Jimmy Keaveney and Seán Kelly.
Curiously, Vinny's heroes were all stars of yesteryear. Since he turned 30, he hadn't added to his collection. "I'm too old for that sort of malarkey," he said to himself.
Yet, there was one modern-day sporting icon Vinny admired greatly - Tiger Woods. He'd watched Tiger toy with his rivals in the Buick Invitational the previous Sunday, winning by eight shots, only because he lost interest on the back nine.
Woods now had 62 PGA Tour wins, level with Arnie Palmer, and was only two behind Ben Hogan. Nicklaus, with 73 wins, was in his sights too, thought Vinny. As for Big Jack's 18 majors, Tiger was on 13 and catching fast.
Vinny would be backing him to win each of the four majors (11/8 Masters, 7/4 US Open and British Open, 2/1 US PGA, and the Grand Slam (14/1).
At 32, his best years were ahead of him - unlike Vinny.
"Hell, this guy is good," thought Vinny as he attempted to imitate one of Tiger's three-quarter stinger tee-shots, holding the hands low as he cut off his follow through. In his mind's eye, he had just smoked one down the first at St Anne's, a hole that psyched him out regularly.
"Fitzpatrick, you auditioning for Swan Lake or what?"
It was Macker, caustic as ever as he approached the bus terminus on foot. Being a taxi driver, Macker would never park where he wasn't let.
Vinny flushed before quickly bringing Macker up to speed with his intentions. He had ordered a dozen red roses, picked out a fancy bottle of perfume in the Clontarf chemist, and booked a corner table in Fabio's Pizzeria in Fairview - handy for the bus back to Foley's for a nightcap.
"How am I doing?" he asked.
Macker said nothing for a bit. Instead, he sucked deeply on a hand-rolled fag, coughed up some phlegm and looked out towards Lambay.
"Vinny, you're caught in a time warp," he said softly. "That approach to Valentine's went out with flares, Ford Escorts and pints of Harp. Things have moved on."
Vinny was disconsolate. He hadn't much "previous" with this sort of thing but felt he'd put together a half-decent plan.
"I dunno," he said bravely. "If I was Angie, I'd be half-impressed with that sort of a night."
Macker turned to face his old friend. "Vinny, you're missing the point. This night is not about what you'd like; it's about Angie. You want to sweep her off her feet by doing something different, something that shows a side of you she never thought you had. Now, get a grip."
With that, Macker turned and left.
Vinny stood motionless on the tarmac. Was Macker right? Was he out of his league completely? He thought of sneaking into Boru Betting, writing a note excusing himself from the night and slipping it under the glass for Angie to read.
Cowardly yes, but right now Vinny Fitzpatrick wasn't feeling particularly brave. He had just turned 50. His life path was predictable, solitary but safe. Why screw it up?
He was shaken from his thoughts as the next bus rolled into the terminus. The driver, whom Vinny recognised, opened the doors and inquired: "Vinny, you all right? You're supposed to have left here five minutes ago."
Vinny clambered into his cab. He revved up the engine and eased out on to the road. He was late, lovelorn and a little lost.
Bets of the week3pts New York Giants to score first in Super Bowl (13/8, Boylesport)• 1pt Adam Scott (right) to win European Order of Merit (14/1 Paddy Power)
Vinny's Bismarck1pt Lay Fernando Torres to be top scorer in Premiership (6/1, liability 6pts Paddy Power)
