AGAINST THE ODDS:Vinny and the his mates enjoy a day out at Punchestown courtesy of Boru betting, writes Roddy L'Estrange.

DOWN BY the final fence at Punchestown, the number nine horse in the opening race smacked into the birch and flung its pilot high into the Kildare air.

Clad in primrose silks with blue collar and cuffs, the rider was tossed about like a rag doll before landing in a crumpled ball.

Close by, the corporate guests who'd left their champagne flutes and pan-fried turbot behind in the plush pavilion to follow the action in the Bishopscourt Cup oohed and aahed behind their designer sunglasses.

Vinny Fitzpatrick squinted at his race card. The horse was called Sancto Bosco and the jockey, or should that be jockette, was a Miss EH Lyons, claiming 7lb, he noted.

When they parted company, they were already tailed off. Why had Miss Lyons carried on, he wondered? Why take the risk of that last-fence fall, which could have been so much worse?

That's the thrill of the chase for you, he thought. Each time they throw the leg over half a ton of horseflesh, jockeys take their chances on negotiating stiff, upright fences at 35mph and returning in one piece.

Ruby Walsh rode 750 races over the course of the jumps season, which meant he had to negotiate roughly 10,000 fences, any one of which could result in a fall. They were a brave, mad crew, the whole lot of them, thought Vinny.

Looking back, Friday had been a mostly successful jaunt for Vinny and his fellow Find-Outers, Macker, Fran, Brennie and Kojak, who'd enjoyed a Boru Betting-sponsored VIP trip to Punchestown following their epic quiz win in Foley's a few weeks earlier.

Boru Betting hadn't scrimped, laying on a stretch limo for the lads which departed Clontarf at 11 bells. As a bonus, Angie, the newly-appointed office manager, was a declared runner.

"I'm hands-on today, lads," she grinned, sliding into the back seat of the limo where her shapely frame fitted snugly in between Vinny and Macker.

"We'll be at Punchestown two hours before racing, so there'll be plenty of time for a couple of pre-lunch drinks. You can base yourself in the pavilion for the afternoon, where there will be a free bar, or you can come and go as you please.

"You know, we've an office open for business at the course for the first time today lads, so here's a ton each in complimentary betting vouchers. Remember, the limo leaves half an hour after the last race. We should have you back at Foley's by nine. If you behave yourselves, I might even join you."

It was the sort of itinerary the lads would have scribbled out on the back of a beer mat. As one, they raised a toast to Angie, who had just extracted half-a-dozen cans of stout from an ice box behind the driver's seat. "That girl thinks of everything," said Vinny to himself.

Later, over lunch, Vinny had outlined his betting theories to the lads. "Follow Ruby Walsh, Punjabi in the Champion Hurdle, and keep a saver on young Mullins in the bumper."

With that, they broke up. Vinny and Macker mooched down to the unsaddling enclosure, while Fran, Brennie and Kojak headed to the betting ring.

"See ya later lads. We're looking for some real action with the high rollers," said Brennie, whose conversion from mild-mannered bank official to wild-eyed gambling freak never ceased to amaze.

The day's racing had been a rewarding experience for Vinny, even if he hadn't broken the Boru Betting bank. He'd stuck with Ruby on Black Apalachi in the big handicap chase and made a small profit as the 10 to 1 shot came second.

When Ruby came from the next parish on Scotsirish in the novice chase, swooping late to win at 8 to 1, Vinny was quids in. And things got better when Barry Geraghty caught everyone napping as Punjabi plundered the Champion Hurdle at 2 to 1.

By now, Vinny had converted his €100 in vouchers to €350 in hard cash. Feeling brave, he planted a ton - a massive bet for him - on the nose on Ruby's mount, Fiveforthree, in the novice hurdle.

For once, the great man didn't deliver, leaving Vinny and Macker to repair to the pavilion for some much-needed sustenance, where they were joined by Angie. "Any joy lads?"

Vinny smiled and shrugged. "Just keeping ahead of the posse, Angie, you know yourself."

Macker then muttered something about needing a fag, leaving Vinny and Angie on their Sweeney Todd. For an hour, he waffled while Angie listened. Amid sips, Vinny realised how content he was, how comfortable Angie made him feel. With her, he could be himself, he could say anything and not feel embarrassed or reticent. He had decided it was time to boldly go where he'd never gone before - when Angie excused herself to go to the loo.

Vinny only had a few minutes to get his act together. He cleared his throat, straightened up, flicked the dandruff off his shoulders and patted down the strands of his sweep-over.

As Angie slalomed back towards the bar, smiling and waving at punters, Vinny knew his carpe diem moment had arrived. "Angie, there's something I want to ask you, something important, mind," he said. Angie blinked.

Looking at his toes, Vinny began. "Ange, I was wondering if you'd consider . . ."

The remainder of Vinny's mumbling was cut off by the hubbub of a gang of punters bursting into the Boru Betting tent. "There he is," was the cry.

Flushed of face, Brennie, Fran, Kojak and Macker careered towards the bar where they stood panting. "So much for what you know about racing, Fitzpatrick," jeered Fran sarcastically.

"Vinny, you sold us a pup," bellowed Brennie.

"Hold on, lads. What's the story?" said Vinny. Macker stepped forward.

"Remember earlier, Vinny. You told us to look out for Mullins in the last race. Well, the lads were on their uppers after a bad afternoon and they clubbed together their final 50 on Mullins, who was only sixth on Citizen Vic. You can understand their anger."

Vinny paused for a moment. "As I recall, I said young Mullins, by that I meant Emmett, the younger cousin of Patrick." Looking at his racecard, Vinny continued. "He was riding number five, Bob Lingo. How did he do?"

In front of Vinny, four grown men groaned and cursed. Brennie had tears in his eyes. Eventually, Macker spoke. "Bob Lingo? He won at 14 to 1."

There was a silence, broken by a smiling Vinny. "Angie, I think the lads could do with a pint, don't you?"

Bets of the Week1pt ew Miguel Angel Jimenez in Spanish Open (28/1, Totesport, Skybet)

1pt Wolves to be promoted to Premier League (7/1, Coral)

Vinny's Bismarck

2pt Lay Bayern and Rangers to reach Uefa Cup final (3/1, Bet365, Liability 6pts)