AGAINST THE ODDS:All packed and ready to lead the advance party to Tallinn in the bid for play-off glory, but then Vinny's best mate Fran throws a Lithuanian dinger into the mix, writes RODDY L'ESTRANGE

PACKING AN overnight bag was the tricky part of Operation Tallinn thought Vinny Fitzpatrick as he rummaged about in a chest of drawers for the right clothes to bring. Fran had warned him to travel light or risk a €30 surcharge but Vinny felt that was easier said than done for a three-night stay in the Baltics in mid-November.

In the end, he erred on the safe side, reckoning he’d get by with two of everything, socks, jocks, jeans, shirts and a couple of heavy Aran-knitted “Kuala Lumpers”. He stuck in a wooly bobble hat, just in case.

A quick glance in his toiletry bag confirmed small-sized tubes of shaving foam and toothpaste, plus a toothbrush, Rennies and some aspirin for the hangover which always followed a surfeit of European beers.

Inside a tiny zipped pouch, he spied a couple of condoms, which prompted a jowly smile. It was almost two years since he’d slipped them in for a lusty weekend away with Angie who had warned him off getting her pregnant for a second time in her 40s. “I won’t be needing them,” he thought to himself.

As he closed his old Gola holdall, Vinny placed two plastic poppies carefully inside. Friday was Armstice Day and at 11 minutes past 11 on the 11th day of the 11th month he would, as he always did, pause for a moment to recognise the Irish who fell in the Great War.

It was Tuesday midday and Vinny was on the Tallinn trail with the Boys In Green thanks to Fran, his oldest friend, who had sourced two tickets for the first leg of the play-offs from an FAI contact, while Vernon Travel were running a €249 all-in package, including direct flights to Tallinn and bed and breakfast in a three-star hotel, returning after the match.

After his health scares, Vinny felt he deserved a Baltic blow-out and Angie had put up little resistance when he suggested the idea. At Dublin Airport, things were quiet in the spanking new Terminal 2 when Vinny arrived. Most of the 1,500 Irish supporters wouldn’t be going until tomorrow or Thursday, but Vinny liked the idea that he was part of the advance party.

It was getting close to departure time when he saw Fran hurry through the sliding doors. He wasn’t alone. On one side was dark-haired Darina, his stunning 27-year-old girlfriend whose employment in Fran’s launderette, Bubbles On the Bull was the catalyst for the break-up of Fran’s 25-year marriage.

On the other side was Petra, all 5ft 11in of her, who first crossed Vinny’s path at the FAI Cup final three years ago. Not only was the Lithuanian lovely a dinger but, for some unfathomable reason, she seemed to have a shine for a portly 53-year-old bus driver of unexceptional looks. Vinny gulped. There may be trouble ahead, he thought.

At the sight of Vinny, Petra left Fran’s flank and raced across the terminal floor, her platinum blonde locks flowing behind her. She was as statuesque as Stacy Keibler, George Clooney’s current fling, and just as athletic.

“Vincent,” she gushed, clasping her long arms around his midriff and hugging him tight. “It is so good to see you again, so good,” she purred, revealing a Colgate smile. “I couldn’t believe when Fran told me you were coming with us. We will have a special time together, yes?”

As Vinny disentangled himself from Petra, he shot a look across at Fran and raised an eyebrow. “Nice one, Fran.” Fran shrugged and made for the check-in. “I’ll explain things on the flight. C’mon, we don’t want to be late.”

Three hours later, on touch down in Tallinn Vinny’s mood had softened, not to the point that he would ever forgive Fran but because he knew there was nothing he could to change things.

Over several beers, Fran gave his side of the story, saying how Darina and Petra were football-daft, which Vinny knew, and how it would be fitting if they could get to watch their fellow Baltic brothers in their biggest ever match, which Vinny also understood.

“What I don’t get Fran is why you didn’t give me the heads up on this? I’d have squared it off with Angie. Instead, I feel like I’m caught up in skulduggery and I feel bad about it,” he said. Fran studied his old friend. “Vinny, get a grip will you? Do you seriously think Angie would have let you away with “Perfect Petra” there,” he nodded across the aisle where the girls were sculling whiskies. “Not in a million years, would she. Look, it’s only a bit of craic. The girls love their football and their firewater.”

Their hotel was an old stone building converted into a boutique hotel which had the basic ingredients for any resting place, a bar and a restaurant. “It’s five minutes walk to the Old Town, just up the hill there,” said Fran pointing. “Let’s drop our gear, freshen-up, and meet back in the lobby in, say, 45 minutes.” With that he took Darina by the hand and headed off to a ground floor room.

It was only after he wandered over to the lift, battered bag and room key in hand, that Vinny was aware of Petra’s presence. “I hope our room has a nice view,” she said squeezing into the lift where she towered over her companion.

Vinny opened his mouth, and closed it again. A thousand thoughts, not all of them pure, raced through his mind. “Petra had just said ‘our’ room. Maybe she was mistaken. If not, what had he got himself into?” he thought

He heard a voice he barely recognised as his own. “Are you, er, comfortable with the rooming arrangements, Petra?”

“Oh yes, Vincent, most comfortable even if it is unusual,” she replied. “Fran explained the hotel was full and that you and I would have to share a room with two single beds. Did he not tell you?” There was a lot Fran hadn’t told him and a part of Vinny wanted to wring his old friend’s neck. Only right now wasn’t the right time. “I’ll speak to Fran later. Here we are, room 442,” he said. “Ah, just the way the Irish likes to play,” grinned Petra.

The room was cramped enough, with two beds separated by a small table but the en-suite was almost big enough for a five-a-side. Petra took the bed nearest the window and stretched out her long legs in jeans that seemed sprayed on. “This is wonderful,” she beamed. “Tonight we will have fun but first I must shower.”

Soon steam seeped out from below the en-suite door and as Vinny imagined Petra inside, soaping down her tanned flanks, the old Irving Berlin lyrics came back to taunt him. “Before the fiddlers have fled, before they ask us to pay the bill and while we still have the chance, let’s face the music and dance.”

With that, he picked up his toiletry bag and unzipped the secret pouch.

Vinny's Bismarck

2pts: Estonia and Republic of Ireland to draw in Euro play-offs (2/1 Boylesports, liability 4pts)

Bets of the week

2pts: Jason Day to win Australian Open (12/1, Coral)

1pt: Glenn Whelan to score first goal in Euro play-offs (25/1, general)