AGAINST THE ODDS:Vinny assesses the Milan-based manager's time in charge of the Republic of Ireland after getting the chance to listen to him at close quarters in Malahide

THREE THINGS struck Vinny Fitzpatrick about Giovanni Trapattoni as the Republic of Ireland manager bounded into the Guttenberg Suite, deep in the bowels of Malahide’s Grand Hotel on Monday at lunchtime.

First, he was smaller than he looked on the telly; second, he was older than he expected; and third, his voice was as scratchy as a broken record.

From his perch in the rear of the room, where he could spy the famed links of The Island across the sea inlet, Vinny sipped a cup of tea and nibbled a biscuit as his first experience of a Trapattoni press conference was about to get under way.

The opportunity for the Dublin bus driver and the conductor of the Irish football team to cross paths had come about by fortuitous circumstance. Only that morning, Vinny had answered an emergency call for a driver to escort a gang of tourists on a Dublin North Coast and Castle tour.

The itinerary include a 60-minute decamp in the Grand Hotel for refreshments which explained Vinny’s presence in the hotel lobby where he’d seen notice of the FAI press conference – it was an opportunity too good to miss.

Inside the Guttenberg Suite – the spelling told Vinny it wasn’t named after the German founder of the printing press who only had one “t” – Vinny slipped down past the rows of chairs where clusters of journalists, almost all wearing jeans he noted, sat expectantly.

When a member of the hotel staff had asked what paper he was with, Vinny replied tongue in cheek, “I’m not a reporter, I’m the driver,” and stuck out a paw for a chocolate Kimberley.

When Trapattoni entered the room, he reminded Vinny of a politician who was about to make an important announcement which, in a sense, he was – he had picked his team to play Uruguay.

Cameras were clicked, microphones and recorders stacked on the table in front of the dapper Italian, who was flanked by his attractive interpreter, Manuella, and the equally photogenic Stephen Kelly, the new Irish captain.

For half an hour, questions were fired at Trapattoni who replied theatrically in a mix of pidgin’ English, some German – which would have pleased the authentic Gutenberg – and rapid-fire Italian.

Most of what Vinny heard was gobbledygook and he marvelled at how journalists could make any sense of the claptrap from Trap, who sped off like a Ferrari when it was all over.

“He may have an ageing chassis but his engine is fine-tuned,” mused Vinny, whose thoughts were interrupted by the waiter he’d spoken to earlier.

“Shouldn’t you be behind the wheel?” he asked. Vinny nodded, gulped down his tea and high-tailed it upstairs. Having listened to one septuagenarian, he had a rendezvous with several others on the bus.

The coastal tour was one of Vinny’s favourites as the route wound its way from town and back via the Botanic Gardens, the Marino Casino, Malahide, Portmarnock, Howth, Dollymount and Clontarf – it even went past the front door of Foley’s. As his entourage disembarked at Howth summit for fresh air and snaps of the stunning views across Dublin Bay, Vinny thought more about Signor Trapattoni and the job he was doing.

It was almost three years since he’d been appointed as manager of the Republic of Ireland team. In that time, he’d earned more than €5.5 million in wages – roughly €180,000 per game – and where had he brought them? Not as far as those that appointed him had hoped, felt Vinny. For those bucks you expected a big bang and the Irish team were no better than when the little Italian arrived on his magic Milan carpet.

His 35-year record as a coach was without question, certainly at club level, and his enthusiasm and passion had shone through at his lunchtime address.

“But is he the right manager for us?” wondered Vinny as he looked out towards the Kish lighthouse. “If I could barely understand a word he was saying, what chance have the players got?” he thought.

It didn’t help the critics of Trapattoni that his teams played what Pat Spillane would call “puke football”. It was mostly route-one stuff with defensive-minded midfielders anchored deep and full backs under orders not to leave their own half lest they risk Trap’s wrath.

Liam Brady, Ronnie Whelan, Davy Langan and Paddy Mulligan wouldn’t have had a sniff of a game under Trap if they were playing now, thought Vinny. A part of Vinny didn’t mind the strait-jacket style, as long as that led to results. Jack Charlton’s teams played mostly one-twos with the angels but qualified for three major finals out of four.

Under Trapattoni, the Boys In Green fell short in the 2010 World Cup, albeit controversially, and there were no guarantees they’d stay the distance in the current Euro qualifiers. This wasn’t what the FAI or Denis O’Brien expected when they committed millions of euros to Trap, Marco Tardelli and, for the first two years, Brady, thought Vinny.

(That RTÉ allowed Brady sit on their TV panel and pass judgment on his former manager and good friend was absurd but that was another matter).

Most worryingly for Vinny, Ireland still hadn’t beaten a decent team at home under Trap, not Italy, Russia, France, not Bulgaria.

Of the nine competitive games in Dublin on Trap’s watch so far, Vinny reckoned the highest-ranked team Ireland had beaten was probably Georgia, which said a lot.

Even before the golden era of Big Jack, under John Giles and Eoin Hand in the 1970s and early 1980s, Irish teams packed a punch at home as powerful nations like Russia and France found to their cost. Not any more, they didn’t. It didn’t help Trapattoni that the supply line to the international team was now more Dunnes Stores than Brown Thomas.

Of the team selected to play Uruguay, not one player was attached to a club in the top half of the Premier League while six of them came from mid-ranked Championship sides.

Vinny knew the days when Jack Charlton shook the branches of Manchester United and Liverpool and at least half a dozen Irish players fell off, were gone. They wouldn’t return either, not with the globalisation of the Premier League.

For that, Trapattoni wasn’t to blame. But he could be held responsible for the tactical strait-jacket which he ordered his players to wear, and for the fact he rarely left his Milan home to see his players in the flesh.

For Trapattoni, 0-0 would always be better than 2-2, which was sad, thought Vinny as the one way to bring back the fans was to guarantee the Irish team “gave it a lash”.

As he nosed his coach towards Sutton Cross and contemplated laying – betting against – the Republic of Ireland against Uruguay, Vinny suspected the road ahead for the international team would be stony and unsure.

He was also certain of one thing; no other Irish manager would ever enjoy la dolce vita like present incumbent, Giovanni Trapattoni.

Vinny's Bismarck:1pt Lay Arsenal to win Premier League (3/1, general, liability 3pts)

Bets of the Week:1pt each-way Stuart Appleby in Houston Open (45/1, Skybet). 1pt win In Compliance in Grand National (74/1 Betfair)