AGAINST THE ODDS:Poirot will have to wait as Vinny sets about looking after his tenants as Pakistan prepare to do battle with Sydney in Australia
IT WAS after 11 on Monday night and Vinny Fitzpatrick was about to plonk down on his favourite sofa and watch an Hercule Poirot drama, which he’d taped the night before, when, out of the blue, his mobile phone rang.
The caller was identified as Mr Khan, a native of Lahore, who, along with his four sons, was renting out Vinny’s old home on Causeway Avenue. To call at this ungodly hour could only mean one thing: bad news.
Vinny could have let the call ring out. The opening credits for a Three Act Tragedywere rolling and his little grey cells were twitching at the prospect of competing against the masterful Belgian detective.
Vinny's track record at TV crime-busting was better than average and he was still feeling smug for correctly identifying the husband as the murderer in They Do It With Mirrors, a Miss Marple mystery a couple of nights earlier.
Poirot was a different set of waxed moustaches altogether but Vinny's sleuthing record was not to be sniffed at – he had once cracked Murder On The Orient Expresswell before the cerebral Belgian had pointed an accusing fingers at all the passengers.
For the moment, Vinny knew, Poirot would have to wait. With some reluctance he reached for his phone.
“Yes, Mister Khan. I take it you’re not ringing to wish me a Happy New Year,” he said.
Mr Khan – Hussein was his real name but both he and Vinny preferred the formality of mister – was in a state of flux and it took Vinny a little while to calm him down.
He quickly established the house was not on fire; there was no gas leak and the toilets were flushing properly. That being the case, what could possibly explain Mr Khan’s agitation?
“It’s the television Mister Fitzpatrick. It is not working and we cannot get Sky Sports. Oh, this is a tragedy, a terrible tragedy,” he wailed.
For five cricket-besotted Pakistanis holed up in a wee corner of Dublin for six months, the festive period meant one thing: Test cricket.
This year, Pakistan were touring Australia, playing a four-Test series against the world’s top team, which meant everything to Mr Khan, and all the little Khans.
“It’s why we took this house Mister Fitzpatrick, because it has Sky Sports. Tonight, of all nights, the television has failed us. You must help please,” he pleaded.
It was some 15 minutes later when Vinny, bearing a passing resemblance to the Michelin Man such were the layers of clothing wrapped about his thick-set body, found himself slithering down Mount Prospect Avenue.
“Even Tom Crean would think twice about putting his nose out in this weather,” he thought to himself as he clung on to assorted walls, pillars and gates while negotiating a route to Causeway Avenue.
It was as cold a night as any in the past week and pulling himself away from Poirot, not to mention Angie and the sleeping three-week old twins, had been difficult but Vinny’s innate streak of decency had got the better of him.
There was no point in waiting until the morning as the day’s play in the cricket would be over. Mr Khan was as passionate about cricket as Vinny was about gambling and the man needed his fix right now.
It helped that Mr Khan was a model tenant, paying rent of €1,000 by post to Vinny on the first of the month like clockwork; and it helped too that he and his family were decent hard-working folk, who lived their lives for cricket.
Wobbling into the turn for Causeway Avenue, Vinny was surprised to be greeted by two of Mr Khan’s sons. “Mister Fitzpatrick. Lean on us. The cobbles are slippery. We will take you the rest of the way, please,” said the taller youth.
Soon, Vinny was at the door of the former Fitzpatrick family home, where he had lived for 50 years. Mr Khan, a slight figure with steely grey hair, was waiting for him, hopping anxiously from foot to foot, a bit like the late umpire David Shepherd when the score was on 111.
“I knew you would come Mister Fitzpatrick as you are a good man. Now, see what you can do, but quickly please as play on the third day is about to start,” he said, thrusting the TV remote control towards Vinny.
In his old front room, where he spent countless slovenly nights, emptying cans and crisp packets into his gullet, Vinny confronted a familiar adversary: his 32-inch Phillips TV, complete with NTL satellite box.
They had enjoyed some battles over the years but Vinny had become used to the occasional “black out” and knew what was needed.
Reaching in behind the TV, he flicked the power switches to the off position and unplugged all the appliances.
He then took out the decoder card, noting it was still a burnt orange in one corner.
“Right, let’s give it a minute’s rest,” he said, turning to the five Khans who were following his every move.
The next 60 seconds must have felt like an age to his lodgers but Vinny had been down this path before and was aware of the pitfalls if things were cranked up too soon.
“Right, that should do it,” he said, replacing the decoder card, plugs and switching on the power. With that he pressed the “on” button on the remote control.
“Give the old girl a few seconds but she should get there.”
A few moments later, the screen was a dazzling green as pictures beamed in live from Sydney. The Khans were exultant, exchanging high fives with one another and taking it in turns to hug Vinny.
“Mister Fitzpatrick, thank you so much. You will stay for tea, yes?” said Mister Khan, as he vigorously pumped Vinny’s hand in gratitude.
For the next two hours, Vinny sat on his old couch, flanked by the younger Khans, Salim and Usama, as the morning session unfolded.
It wasn’t a particularly good one for Pakistan who lost their last wicket to the fifth ball of the day, and were then whacked around the SCG as Australia’s openers got to 86 without loss at lunch, at which point the Khans broke for supper.
By now, Vinny was fading, the effects of a day changing nappies and organising feeds taking its toll. It was time, he knew, to get back on the ice rink but his couch was comfortable and the room was warm, as was the company of his hosts.
He nodded off midway through the afternoon session during which Pakistan took three wickets, including the prized Ricky Ponting, which led to an unbridled outpouring of joy in a quiet corner of chilly Clontarf.
Bets of the Week
2pts San Diego Chargers to win Super Bowl (4/1, Boylesports)
2pts Captain Cee Bee to win Arkle Trophy (6/1, Ladbrokes)
Vinny's Bismarck
1pt Lay Man City to win League Cup (5/2, Stan James, liability 2.5pts)
