Memories of the pressing game with Con Houlihan
On the eve of the big game, the two were enjoying a long, liquid night in the French capital when, on the back of some sort of minor disagreement, they abruptly decided to finish up and go their separate ways. Unfortunately — and, perhaps remarkably, considering his great size — Con was the victim of a mugging on his way back to the hotel, losing his money, his passport and, most worrying of all under the circumstances, his match ticket.
Cut to the Parc des Princes the following afternoon and, with only minutes to go before the off, there’s still a vacant seat in the press box where Con is supposed to be. At which point, Faiers is approached by a stadium official who says that there is a “Monsieur Oolahan” outside who claims to be a member of the Irish press corps. Would Mr Faiers be able to offer a description of his putative colleague so they might permit him access to the game? “Of course,” Faiers replied, not missing a beat. “Monsieur Houlihan is a small, dapper gentleman...” (Needless to say, there nearly always being honour amongst hacks, even rival ones, David eventually relented and Con got in).
