Against the oddsGetting grief in Foley's was nothing new to Vinny. He was expecting it after his "Bismarck", Ernie Els, instead of sinking, had cruised imperiously to victory in the World Matchplay at Wentworth.
Under the TV in the bar, where the lads gathered on Sunday nights for a game of 25, the barbs flew.
"Ah, here's the Chancellor himself," quipped Brennie. "Holed below the water line by good ol' Ernie," laughed Kojak.
"Hey, what's that sticking out of the back of your trousers Vinny? Oh look, it's yer backside," guffawed Fran.
Only Macker was silent. A reedy, laconic, chain-smoker, Macker spent most of his days at Dublin Airport waiting unhurriedly for his next taxi fare. It gave him time to study the racing papers and make calls to various stables for the inside track. He wasn't known as the "Horse Whisperer" for nothing.
As Vinny placed his pint of stout on the table, Macker leaned over. "Vinny, when it comes to golf, you're an ass," he said softly. "Ernie had won that thing six times, he lives on the course, he redesigned it. What were ya thinking making him your Bismarck?"
Vinny shrugged, sipped his pint and smiled. His handicap bet on Ireland against Germany had covered him, and he was looking forward to seeing Angie in "Boru Betting" to collect his winnings.
Besides he was a few bob up after an evening following darts on the box. He was going to watch the rugger but while channel flicking, caught the build-up to the Skybet World Grand Prix final in Dublin. Almost immediately, he felt the pins and needles in his fingers. He always did before he gambled.
Back in the '70s and early '80s when the BBC showed the World Darts Championship from the exotically named Frimley Green, Sid Waddell was king.
Vinny could remember some of his classics commentaries. "Bristow reasons . . . Bristow quickens . . . ahhh, Bristow. And, of course: "Jocky Wilson . . . what an athlete."
Jocky was five-foot nothing and just as wide. He drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney and was world champion.
There was old stone-face John Lowe; Bobby "Dazzler" George and burly Leighton Rees, with the Bobby Charlton sweep-over.
Towering above them was "The Crafty Cockney" Eric Bristow. Tall, tanned, chubby-cheeked and gobby. Bristow was box office.
Thirty years on, Waddell, "a raucous Geordie who harpoons the English language then turns it into a kebab", was still behind the mike. This time, it was James Wade against Terry Jenkins in the final. Vinny didn't know either of them; he'd been hoping to see Phil "The Power" Taylor or Raymond "Barney" van Barneveld. Wade didn't look like a darts player. He was flat-bellied, bespectacled, had a tidy haircut and was only 24. He didn't even have a moniker.
Jenkins was more like the calorie-guzzling, flabby heroes of yesteryear. He was tubby, had a Northsider's 'tache and a shirt emblazoned with his nickname "Raging Bull".
After checking his Skybet account, Vinny put a tenner on Wade to win 6-2 at 7/1 and another tenner to win 6-3 at 11/2.
Then he ordered a nine-inch, thick crust, pepperoni and green peppers pizza, with a side order of coleslaw, garlic bread and large Diet Pepsi. His Ma always told him to eat well on a Sunday.
Early on, "Raging Bull" was so poor one of Waddell's gems came to mind: "If he had a hedgehog in his hand and aimed for the bull, it would probably bounce out."
Wade started 4/9 on with Jenkins 13/8 against. After Wade won the first set, Vinny checked the in-running odds. Wade was now 1/5 on; at 2-0 he was 1/6. At 3-0 Vinny wondered if Jenkins would get off the mark.
Thankfully, Jenkins "found the lipstick", as Sid called the treble 20 bed, and pulled a set back. Suddenly, 3-1 became 3-2 and Jenkins then had two darts to win the sixth and level at 3-3. Vinny was in a heap.
"The Raging Bull is snortin' and a pawin' now," thundered Sid. Luckily for Vinny, the Bull shied and yipped his arrows. Wade returned to the oche, made it 4-2 and never looked back. Vinny had cleared a "nifty-fifty"; enough for his beer money and a chip supper afterwards.
Vinny let the lads take the mick. The darts had given him a thirst for a bet; the pepperoni a thirst for stout. God, life tasted good.
Bet of the week
5pts Cyprus (+1.5 goals on Asian handicap) to beat Ireland (Evens, Betfair). Without Richard Dunne and Lee Carsley, shot-shy Ireland may struggle to win by more than a goal, if they win at all.
2pts England (+9 points) to win Rugby World Cup (10/11 Paddy Power)
Vinny's Bismarck
2pts Lay Lewis Hamilton to win FI World Drivers Championship (1.4 Betfair, Liability 0.8)
What it is a Bismarck?: A certainty or "banker" bet that you think will sink. Vinny feels Hamilton won't win and is "laying" him to lose.
