AGAINST THE ODDS:A World Cup offer in Clontarf's leading hostelry attracts our hero's undivided attention
AFTER THE calamity with the karaoke, Vinny Fitzpatrick was initially sceptical about Foley’s latest initiative, a Pints for Points World Cup promotion, but he soon embraced the idea with all the fervour of a lung-busting vuvuzela blower.
It had begun the previous Friday when Vinny dropped in for the opening game between South Africa and Mexico and spied a glossy poster plastered to the toilet wall advertising pints “For Free” during the finals.
As Foley’s had long been renowned for miserliness towards its customers rather than munificence, Vinny had been intrigued. Just what was going on? Studying the small print, he noted Foley’s were giving punters a World Cup loyalty card for the finals, stamped any time you popped in to Clontarf’s leading hostelry.
The games carried different ratings: one point, three or five. The more points you totted up, the more pints you could win. Up to 15 points was worth one pint, up to 30 two, and so on.
All fixtures were assessed on a combination of the appeal of the teams, and the kick-off times. For example, almost all night games were worth one point, as were ones involving the big hitters, England, Spain, Argentina and Brazil.
Down the road, all second-round clashes were valued at three points, while the quarter-finals and semi-finals were worth one.
To his satisfaction, Vinny had noted that only draught pints were included in the promotion and that you had to be in situ within 15 minutes of kick-off to qualify.
Having hung around for Uruguay against France, a dire affair, on Friday evening, Vinny had toddled home with a fish-and-chip supper under his oxter, eight points affixed to his World Cup card, and a slurping strategy taking shape.
Back in Mount Prospect Avenue, Vinny gave careful consideration to the fixture list and decided to embrace Foley’s promotion.
He was fortunate on two fronts. First, he was still convalescing, and, second, Angie had extended her maternity leave until the end of July so was around to mind the twins.
It gave him the means, motive and opportunity to winkle as many buckshee pints as possible from Foley’s, while playing a second “loyalty” card on home ground.
On Saturday evening, for example, Vinny had stayed put to baby-sit while Angie took part in the Midsummer Monster Scrabble competition with her girly chums in Raheny Parish Hall. As his wife dashed out the door at 7.15, showering Vinny with thanks and late instructions about the twins’ bed-time, her husband had nodded and smiled.
No wonder: he had six pints in his gullet, eight World Cup points stamped on his card and was set fair for England against the US on the telly.
On Sunday, Vinny had clocked in to Foley’s after Mass for Algeria and Slovenia, which was forgettable, and endured further penance for the ghoulish Ghana v Serbia game.
That stand-off was so Granny O’Grimm that at one point he’d left his perch in the lounge and crossed the Rubicon to the bar to watch the despairing Dubs, which was almost as X-rated.
If Monday’s two games were even, Tuesday’s were even worse with two more dire efforts, one which involved the Ivory Coast and Portugal, teams bulging with Premier League flair.
Even so, Vinny had racked up 37 points, enough to qualify for three complimentary pints of Uncle Arthur’s finest elixir. And he wasn’t finished yet.
Indeed, with careful scheduling, Vinny reckoned he could double his tally of freebies by the end of the group games and could even threaten the magic 10-pint mark by the time the promotion ended after the semi-finals.
It would take a considerable commitment, in terms of hours, and a certain level of expenditure, but for Vinny the pursuit of being served pints on the house from crabby Dial-A-Smile was worth the sacrifice.
And a sacrifice it most certainly was. In five days since the start of the finals, he had seen 10 games in Foley’s for a paltry return of just 12 goals – including a penalty and own goal.
It was, by some margin, the slowest slow-burner of a World Cup he could recall.
Whether that was down to the light Jabulani ball, the altitude of some grounds or the inherent cagey nature of teams early on, he couldn’t say, but there was a distinct lack of va-va-voom.
It didn’t help, he felt, that there was little in-fighting or controversy involving the high-profile TV analysts.
Even when Graeme Souness put his studs in it on RTÉ on Sunday afternoon by saying Nemanja Vidic had been “raped” by Fernando Torres in a Manchester United v Liverpool game, there had been hardly a ripple of negative reaction.
And a reference by Andy Townsend to England as “we” on ITV on Saturday had all but been all but glossed over. Had good ol’ Andy forgotten his Co Kerry granny, his 70 Irish caps, 40 of them as captain?
Vinny felt the World Cup needed a row; it needed moments of magic; damn it, it needed Trap’s throng in their thousands at full throttle, if nothing else to silence the unrelenting hum of the vuvuzela.
As he slipped off his stool before tea-time, his loyalty card sufficient for the race leaders’ yellow jersey among the lounge lizards of Foley’s, Vinny pondered the overdue arrival of Brazil and Spain on the World Cup scene.
“If any two teams can kick-start the finals, it’s those two,” he thought.
Bemoaning Ireland’s absence, he comforted himself with the thought that the story of the World Cup finals so far was all about a man called Green, if not, alas, the boys in green.
Bets of the week:
1pt e/wDustin Johnson to win US Open (40/1, Paddy Power)
2ptsmore than 3½ goals in England v Algeria (11/5, Boylesports)
Vinny's Bismarck
1ptLay Greece to beat Nigeria (7/2, general, liability 3.5 points)
