AGAINST THE ODDS: Vinny's Dirty Dozen avail of bus, train and foot on their tour of enlightenment

THEY had been down this road for 30 consecutive years: never missing the Bank Holiday beat on the Dublin streets.

While some of their number had fallen by the wayside, a battle-hardened crew of regulars reported for duty on Monday, at the usual meeting place, in the knowledge that the intense preparation of recent months would stand to them.

They were aware of the physical demands which would be put on their ageing bodies in the hours ahead: the dehydration, shortness of breath, wobbling legs, the almost inevitable collapse at the finishing line.

This year, there were 12 stout-hearted disciples of the faith who met in the car-park on the seafront at Clontarf Road for a pep talk ahead of the challenge.

There, the route was laid out in front of them, one which would bring them back to their point of origin in approximately eight hours, for these athletes were in no mood to hurry.

There was information on the various watering and feeding stations on the way and an emergency number to dial if anyone strayed off the well-trodden path.

As they hopped from one foot to another, eager to get going, a middle-aged man of corpulent girth and fleshy jowl spoke up.

“Alright lads, let’s get going,” said Vinny Fitzpatrick as he led his elite corps of marathon men across the road and pushed open the door to Foley’s public house. It was two o’clock and the October Drinkathon was about to begin.

Of the 12 declared runners, there were half a dozen lifers: Vinny, Macker, Fran and Shanghai Jimmy from Foley’s, Baldy Hogan from The Schooner and Gumshoe Gerry from Shingles, two nearby pubs.

Not only had they clocked in for every Drinkathon, they’d always completed the course, and on their own two feet as well. They were hailed as Legends of the Fall by their mates.

While there was no official group leader, Vinny’s influence had grown and, once again, it had fallen to him to plot a journey that was diverse and stimulating.

(Vinny had already displayed his expertise in mapping out the “12 Drinks of Christmas”, which took place on the third Sunday of every December in the city centre.)

For this year’s Drinkathon, the route was made easier thanks to the genuine marathon runners giving the Northside a wide berth as they pounded the pavements in such leafy retreats as Terenure, Milltown and Stillorgan.

The night before, Vinny scanned the journey he had prepared and double-checked his bus and Dart timetables and his quiz questions one last time. There was something in the day for all the lads.

As they sipped the opening pint, Vinny called them to attention.

“Today lads, we’re spreading our wings a bit. I trust you all have full bellies as I don’t intend to stop for a nose-bag until we hit the Capri later.

“I’ve done up a Billy Whizz, which involves 12 questions, one for each pub we visit. You write your answer down before we leave and we’ll do the tot later on. It’s a fiver a head, and the winning team gets the sweep.

“Right,” he said, glancing at his watch. “As all the best football managers say, ‘get on it and knock it’.”

It was much later when the dirty dozen, or drunken dozen as Brennie called them, returned to Foley’s. Reading v Leicester was almost up, but no one cared.

Vinny was about to call out the results to the quiz, upon which much was riding, both bragging rights and personal profit.

It had, he reflected, been a memorable outing. After supervising the draw for quiz partners, which kicked off with a question about which sides were in the FAI Cup final, Vinny had steered the lads out of Foley’s at 2.20pm to catch a 130 which had them in Gaffney’s of Fairview in 10 minutes.

There, he asked the lads to come up with the only commonly used word which included the five vowels in the order they appeared in the alphabet, before pointing them in the direction of Kavanagh’s.

And so it continued. From the foot of the Malahide Road, they caught a 42 to Malahide which passed in jig time as Vinny had given the lads a 15-point question that demanded concentration. “Name the Dublin team which won the All-Ireland in 1974.”

They skipped through Gibney’s, noting the price of the pint, Smyth’s and Duffy’s, before dashing for a 32A which had them in The Widow’s in Portmarnock at a quarter-past six.

From there, they hopped on a 32 to Baldoyle to visit Grainger’s and the Bayside Inn, before it was arms outstretched at Sutton Cross for a 31 to the Pier House in Howth, where Vinny relented to Brennie’s plea for a sandwich.

The Dart dropped them off in Killester for a swiftie in the Beachcomber, before walking smartly to Harry Byrne’s, where Macker complained he couldn’t concentrate on the quiz because of all the stunners in their 30s.

Keeping tabs on the quiz as he went along, Vinny noted it was nip and tuck between the two-man team of Macker and Brennie, and the trio of Baldy Hogan, Gumshoe Gerry and droopy-eyed Sid, a retired clippie, who said little.

Aware that time was tight – as were some of the lads – Vinny had shepherded his troops down to Clontarf Road where a 130 arrived on cue to deposit them back at Foley’s. It was a quarter to 10.

“Time to round off the baker’s dozen,” grinned Fran. And the rest, thought Vinny, as he looked at the scrawled answers to the last question, upon which so much rested.

The final puzzle, he knew, had tested the alcohol-soused brain cells of his friends. “If the 4.5 billion-year history of earth were to be measured in proportion to one year, what time was it when man arrived?” he’d asked.

There were five points on offer for a correct answer, which was 8.30pm on New Year’s Eve, and two for the team nearest the pin.

The team of Gumshoe Gerry, a detective in Coolock, were leading by a point – they were the only ones who got “facetious” right in Gaffney’s – but could be caught.

Vinny looked first at Gumshoe’s answer and then at the one given by Fran and Brennie. He said nothing. The other two teams went for Hallowe’en and Christmas Day; Vinny knew he had a winner.

He first called out Gumshoe’s answer, which was October 26th, and then, with a sense of the theatrical, announced Fran and Brennie as the overall champions having chosen December 31st.

Brennie began jumping up and down like a demented pogo-stick as if he’d won the Lottery jackpot, rather than a nifty-fifty. “The curried chips are on us lads!” he shrieked. Vinny smiled. It would be the perfect end to a perfect day for the marathon drinking men of Dublin 3.

Bets of the week

1pt e/w Robert Allenby in World Matchplay Championship (20/1, Ladbrokes)

1pt Bolton to beat Chelsea in English League Cup (11/1, Betfair)

Vinny’s Bismarck

1pt Lay Jensen Button to win Abu Dhabi Grand Prix (8/1, Boylesports)