AGAINST THE ODDSTHE LAST place Vinny Fitzpatrick expected to find himself on the first Tuesday of July was ambling down the aisles of Penneys in Artane Castle on Dublin's northside.

Yet, here he was among the tailored shorts, snazzy shirts and sleeveless tops, trying to give the impression to the formidable- faced ladies around him that he knew what he was doing.

As he fingered price tags and attempted to calculate his size now that everything was in metric, Vinny couldn't recall the last time he'd bought clothes for himself. There was the odd pair of socks and underpants alright from Dunnes Stores, but not much else. There was no need.

Never a slave to fashion, Vinny was happy in his own skin, and that of the clothes he wore, some of which had been around for quite some time, admittedly.

He was particularly fond of a bright-yellow sweater he'd won in a Foley's golf outing a few years back, and he wore a pair of black shoes everywhere: he was even wearing them now.

"Sure, they're a touch scuffed, but nothing that a spit and polish won't sort out," he thought.

Vinny's shopping excursion had been prompted by a phone call from an excited Angie the evening before that had interrupted his viewing of the enthralling Andy Murray-Richard Gasquet match at Wimbledon.

Angie was flush with news that the flights to Milan were booked and they were leaving early on Saturday. "I've organised a car and we're staying at a hotel on Lake Garda. How are you fixed for clothes, toiletries? It's going to be hot over there."

Angie offered to accompany Vinny on a trip to town - she'd suggested Marks and Spencer - but Vinny scoffed at the suggestion, insisting that, at 50, he was a big boy now and could look after himself.

On reflection, he'd cut Angie a tad short, but then he couldn't wait to return to the tennis, where Murray, a rather dislikeable personality but a fine player, was staging the mother of all comebacks against a French chap who wore a hat the wrong way around.

Murray's win was greeted with acclaim by the crowds, but Vinny suspected the brash Scot would never replace Tim Henman in the affections of the British public.

Gentleman Tim was always gracious, both in victory and defeat, while Murray was a bit of a brat, not unlike John McEnroe. Mind you, he could play a bit too, he thought.

Tennis, or specifically Wimbledon, had always held a fascination for Vinny. As a kid, he'd spent countless hours each summer sitting with his mother, Bridie, watching tennis on a snowy telly in the front room of their terraced house in Clontarf.

Vinny was enchanted by the thwock, thwock of the rallies, Dan Maskell's gentle commentary and the references to strawberries and cream, but mainly by the players.

Rod Laver, John Newcombe, Tony Roche and Ken Rosewall, all Australian, were the stars of that time and they seemed to carve up Wimbledon most years, while Billie Jean King, a plain, bespectacled sort, dominated the women's game.

But Vinny's favourite was Jimmy Connors: a brash, gobby, athletic, all-American hero. Not only could he play, he also got to run off with the girl who was the first heart-throb of Vinny's largely uneventful life, Chris Evert.

More than once, on the knobbly wall at the end of the street where he lived, Vinny staged mock mixed doubles between himself and Chrissy against Jimmy Connors and Evonne Goolagong.

Almost always, Vinny and Chrissy won and the imaginary umpire would intone: "Game set and match to Mr Fitzpatrick and Miss Evert. Fitzpatrick and Evert win 6-4, 2-6, 9-7."

Funnily enough, he'd seen Chris Evert in the newspapers the other day. She was getting married to Greg Norman and looked like she could still do three sets on Centre Court with her eyes closed.

Shaken from his tennis reverie, Vinny approached the pay counter in Penneys. He'd picked out two pairs of tailored shorts, both extra-large, a pair of swimming trunks that looked like they'd fit an elephant, and four golf tops, on offer at €6.99 each. Got to look smart for Angie, he said to himself.

Aware that his supply of "smalls" at home had been around the block a bit, he splashed out on three pairs of cotton briefs, also extra large, on the basis he'd get two days out of each pair and could probably squeeze a third day out of the other.

On a whim, he threw in a pair of open-toed sandals, making a mental note to dig out the nail scissors before putting them on.

Next up for Vinny was the chemist. This was strange terrain, and he made his way warily inside, where everything was bright and sweet-scented. "I've never been in a ladies' toilet but it must be something like this," he thought.

Vinny had a list of what was needed: suncream (factor 30), toothpaste (MacLeans), aspirin, a new comb for the sweep-over and something for hay fever. But he couldn't find a thing and asked for assistance from a pleasant-looking girl, probably just out of school on work experience, he thought.

Efficiently, Vinny's young helper worked her away around the chemist, picking out what was needed before turning to Vinny and asking, "Are you going on holiday with the family?"

"No. Myself and the girlfriend are going to Italy for a week," he stammered, using "girlfriend" for the first time in a long number of years.

The girl looked Vinny up and down, then spoke matter-of-factly. "Are you taking precautions?"

"Pardon?" replied Vinny.

"You know," she said. "Precautions. You can't be too careful these days."

Vinny blinked furiously, scratched his head and wondered what on earth she was talking about. And then he realised.

"Young lady, you're right. Throw in a bottle of after-sun, would you?"

The girl laughed. "You're a real comedian, you are."

Vinny said nothing but, looking a tad perplexed, paid his bill, gathered his purchases and turned to leave. As he did so, he spotted a tray of small, brightly-coloured boxes with such brand names as Durex, Trojan, Crown and Paradise.

Suddenly, the penny dropped.

Bets of the Week

3pts Spanish rider to win Tour de France (9/4, Betfair)

2pts Cork to beat Kerry in Munster SFC (11/4, Paddy Power)

Vinny's Bismarck

2pts lay Lewis Hamilton to win British F1 GP (5/2, Boylesports, liability 5pts)