AGAINST THE ODDS:Vinny and Fran sate their sweet-tooth urges before a forensic examination of the runners and riders in South Africa, writes RODDY L'ESTRANGE
THE GARDEN table in Mount Prospect Avenue was groaning with chocolate. There were stacks of Tea Cakes, Macaroon bars and, mostly, Snowballs, Vinny Fitzpatrick’s favourite.
The see-through wrapper had always been his first hook of temptation, the light flakes of coconut the next.
If that hadn’t been enough to tickle his fondant fancy, there was the crispy chocolate topping to bite into, and then, below, the heavenly sugary gooey stuff which he loved to run his tongue into. Simply divine.
Vinny had never met Thomas Caffrey but he felt he owed the man a terrific debt for the years of pleasure his chocolate products had given not just him, but countless numbers of chisellers.
And he felt he couldn’t let the great man’s sad passing go by without raising a glass, or in this case opening a wrapper or two of Mr Caffrey’s finest confectionery, to celebrate the long life – he was in his 90s – of an unsung Dubliner.
On this glorious Sunday afternoon, with Angie and the twins out of the house for an hour or two, Vinny had invited his old friend Fran around to share in the choccy-fest and a jug of chilled, home-made lemonade.
Mates since childhood, the pair had more in common than a love of stout and gambling: they were also closet choc-aholics, and for an hour or so they got stuck into Caffrey’s finest.
Vinny may have been an old-fashioned sort in the bedroom, but he was an adventurous daredevil, almost reckless, when it came to Tea Cakes.
On his fourth or fifth, he couldn’t be sure which, he carefully nibbled away all the chocolate off the top to expose a soft white orb of mallow which shimmered slightly as he held it aloft in the blue sky.
Then, raptor-like, he thrust the remainder of the biscuit into his fleshy gob in one fell swoop.
As the sun blazed down, the men, both passed the yardarm of 50, gorged on a orgy of Caffrey’s confectionery finest, including Big Time bars, Mint Crisps and Chocolate Mallows.
“Jeepers, Vinny, this is great,” panted Fran as he bit into another Snowball, leaving a pencil-thin white moustache across his lip.
Eventually, the lads began to run out of puff as gullets filled and stomachs churned.
It was time, Vinny knew, to get down to the other serious business of the afternoon, the ante-post World Cup wagers.
When the finals kicked off in South Africa, Vinny, who was still on sick leave, knew he would become distracted by the games, so it was best to have the financial props in place well in advance.
By now, most squads were finalised as all domestic leagues were finished and the availability of players was known.
Michael Ballack and Lass Diarra would miss the finals with injury. Vinny had sympathy for Ballack but none for Diarra, who had bad-mouthed Ireland in the play-offs.
“The Lass said the better, mon ami,” he thought.
Vinny had set aside €100 for bets on the outright winners and another €100 for what he called “fun” bets. Fran also had €200 to speculate, but he preferred to concentrate on one or two substantial hits.
They had a pact to place any winnings behind the bar in Foley’s and were confident of a couple of nights out on the rip, at least.
By now, the lemonade had been replaced by a different fruit. “Time to get serious Fran,” said Vinny, as he poured a pint bottle of Bulmer’s finest into a glass jammers with ice.
As they swigged in silence, a considered analysis of the World Cup was undertaken. They studied the merits of the nations, how they got there, examined each group forensically and calculated the likely routes to the final.
Vinny had a long-held theory that the World Cup was actually a misnomer: that, in effect, the competition was a glorified European Championship with Brazil, Argentina and maybe one other South American nation thrown in.
He had watched the African Cup of Nations on the telly and thought the standard was as rubbish as the pitches they played on.
He also felt the current crop of Asian teams was sub-standard and that New Zealand would do well to beat Bohs.
He picked out his five to follow, a score on each to win. “Spain at 4 to 1, Brazil at 5 to 1, England 13 to 2, Argentina 8 to 1, Holland 14 to 1. That’s my five against the field and should cover a night in Foley’s,” he said.
Fran rubbed his chin. “My first ton is on Argentina, even with madcap Maradona in charge. Without him, Zanetti and Cambiasso would play and they’d be 9 to 2 at best.”
Vinny chuckled. “I’m glad you mentioned Maradona, as I’m putting €20 on him to be sent off at some point, 14 to 1,” he said.
Vinny’s other novelty bets were Gonzalo Higuain (18 to 1) to be top scorer, Tim Cahill (100 to 30) to be top Australia scorer, Nigeria (6 to 1) to be the best Africa team, Switzerland (6 to 4) to reach the second round, and North Korea (6 to 4) to let in the most goals in the group stages.
“Good calls,” replied Fran, before playing his trump card: “England to reach the semi-finals, at 100 to 30,” he said.
Fran felt England would top their group and could face Germany or Australia in the last 16, followed by France or Greece in the quarter-finals.
“Without Ballack, Germany are ordinary and Rooney should make the difference. I can’t see England not getting to the last four.”
For a bit, the lads reflected on their World Cup investments, calculating what the most profitable outcome would be.
“An Argentina win with Higuain as top scorer would be worth almost €1,150,” noted Fran. “Throw England in the last four and Maradona going ballistic and we’d get another €600. More than enough for a few pints of Uncle Arthur, I’d say,” he grinned.
“And more than enough for a few more Caffrey’s Snowballs,” chipped in Vinny.
With that, a fleshy mitt reached out towards the familiar wrapper. “Sure, one more won’t hurt us,” he thought.
Vinny's Bismarck
2pts Lay Donegal to beat Down in Ulster SFC (evens, liability 2pts)
Bets of the Week
3pts Australia to qualify from the group stage of World Cup (9/4, Bet365)
2pts Argentina to win the World Cup (8/1, Ladbrokes)
