AGAINST THE ODDS:Just as Vinny was about to head out into the Halloween night for a bit of trick or treating he received a disturbing call from Donnybrook

SCRAPING out a pumpkin was a messy enough business but Vinny Fitzpatrick applied himself with gusto, spooning out the soft pulp before gouging a scary face from the shell, into which he would later place nightlights.

Around him on the kitchen table were assorted bags of apples, nuts, grapes, lollipops and plastic drums filled with small-sized Crunchie, Curly-Wurly, Fudge and Chomp bars. He had tasted the chocolate, at regular intervals, and could confirm they were fine.

It was half past five on Sunday and almost time to load the twins into the double-buggy and head out in the Halloween night.

Angie had dressed up Oisín as a baby Batman and Aoife as a witch, a slightly disgruntled one who kept trying to dislodge her pointed black hat – even at 11 months, a budding independent streak was apparent.

Vinny was a huge Halloween fan and was as excited about receiving visitors as he was about knocking on the neighbours’ doors on Mount Prospect Avenue.

If truth be told, Halloween hadn’t been a bat cave of laughs when he had lived on his own in the cul-de-sac of Causeway Avenue.

One night, there had been no callers at all, even though he’d lit up his front window like a Christmas tree and stocked a bowl inside the front door with all sorts of goodies, most of which he ended up eating himself.

For this year’s trick or treating, he had borrowed a long black cloak from Angie and had his face painted like Dracula. “Bela Lugosi, eat your heart out,” he grinned at the mirror in the hall.

And then his mobile rang, which was a surprise; firstly because hardly anyone ever called him, and secondly because it was a non-working day. There was no ID to go on, rather the mysterious “private number” which slightly unnerved Vinny.

But when he picked it up, Vinny heard a voice he knew. It was Seán “Nailer” O’Neill, a hardened Donnybrook veteran and a long established adversary in the Banana Cup – the annual sports event for the Dublin Bus garages.

Nailer lived up to his moniker as he was a hard chaw, a driven competitor whom Vinny was outwardly wary of but privately would love to have representing Clontarf in the Banana Cup trenches.

“Nailer, what’s the story?” asked an intrigued Vinny.

“It’s the end of an era for Dublin transport, Vinny. The last 10 bus has run its course and 105 years of history has been wiped out because a number-crunching smart Alec in a suit says so.

“It’s all part of something called Network Direct, which is nothing more than a fancy name for cut-backs, if you ask me. Can you believe it? Progress my backside,” snorted Nailer.

For the next few minutes, Nailer lambasted the decision to scrap the service from Dublin Zoo to Belfield and Vinny paid attention, for that was something he was good at.

“You and I don’t always see eye to eye Vinny but we’re part of what was Dublin in the old times. This decision is a bit like the closure of the railways in the 50s, a short-sighted joke which will backfire on the public.

“I needed someone I knew to listen while I let some air out of me tyres so I thought of you. I’ll go now. See you in the Banana Cup in the summer. By the way, we’ll wipe your face in it, again.”

With that Nailer hung up, leaving Vinny to reflect on the baffling decision to consign the iconic number 10 bus to history.

A keen student of the chronicles of Dublin’s public transport system, Vinny wondered did the decision-makers not know that the first cross-city service by tram ran from Donnybrook to the Phoenix Park? Did they not stop to consider the impact the number 10 bus has had on the lives of hundreds of thousands of Dubliners? It was the most instantly recognisable cross-city bus of all and now it was off the road, forever.

No more ferrying families to the Zoo, teenagers to the Wesley disco, lads to games at Dalyer, artists to Baggot Street, shoppers to town and students to college. Now the 10 was off the road forever and Dublin, he felt, was a poorer place because of it.

Vinny could empathise with Nailer, a 35-year lifer at Donnybrook whose old man, Neil O’Neill, had driven the number 10 for years, and the number nine before it was shelved in 1970 after the 10 route was extended from Donnybrook to Belfield.

Vinny himself lamented the loss of the 30 bus to Dollymount, and the quirky 44A to Mount Prospect, which had been merged into the 130 and now performed a ridiculous loop the loop of Dublin 3, almost doubling back on itself.

Now the 10, a perfect number in more ways than one, was gone to the great garage in the sky, while the 46B, 63, 84 and 86 were all off the city streets too.

These routes were all proud symbols of the Donnybrook Garage and Vinny knew the lads on the forecourt would be hurting.

Vinny wasn’t a complete card-carrying member of the old school and was aware that standing still got you nowhere but there were some traditions, like the 10 bus and Halloween, that he felt should be pickled and preserved.

It was a thought that struck him later that night when, on his return from Foley’s, he caught up with some NFL action on the telly. The Minnesota Vikings were playing the New England Patriots and veteran Brett Favre was on duty for the Vikings.

Vinny was a committed Green Bay Packer fan but he held Favre in awe for his unbroken 16 years’ service for “The Cheeseheads”, and especially for the super Bowl win of 1997.

Now 41 and a grandfather, Favre was making a record 292nd consecutive league start despite two broken bones in his foot.

Munching Maltesers, Vinny marvelled at Favre’s longevity, desire and steady hand.

You didn’t get to play iron American football because you used to be good once; you had to be good now, and Favre still was that.

Late on, Favre took a hefty whack of a helmet on his chin, which split open like a can, and he was forced to leave the field, tottering on his ageing pins.

Afterwards, Favre insisted he would be back next week, for game number 293 but Vinny couldn’t help wondering if his time wasn’t up, a bit like the dear old number 10 bus.

Vinny's Bismarck

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