Con Houlihan RIP

[Denn Forever]

A man who knew his priorities.  Was it a Brandy and Milk (for the goodness) he drank?

[bennydorano]

RIP, remember reading him in the Sunday World many many moons ago, not really knowing who he was and thinking he was very out of place in such a rag. Will be sadly missed. 

[Derry Optimist]

The late Con Houlihan was one of the greatest sportswriters of all time. His ability to switch, seamlessly, from Gaelic Games, to Soccer or Rugby within the confined limits of his thrice weekly columns, in the Evening Press, was uncanny in its presentation and absolutely brilliant in his sense of the varied characteristics  of different people, different places, different skills, different occasions. However, for me, it was his consummate  love of Gaelic Games and his inherent ability to accurately reflect the many nuances of any game that made his writing a class apart. Furthermore, it was his instinctive flair for mingling his intimate knowledge of Greek, Latin or English literature with a vivid description of Mike Sheehy or Matt Connor converting yet another wonderful goal in Croke Park that made him so special. As a long time suffering Derry football supporter, one anecdote stands out above all others. It was the Autumn of 1992 and Con Houlihan had a particularly good article in the Evening Press - the finer details of which I forget. Then in the last paragraph he suddenly, as was his wont, switched to a different topic and related the substance of  a dream he had the previous night. To paraphrase the concluding sentences, he stated that in the following year-1993- when the green apples were turning to a harvest red in the orchards of Ireland, the men from the Oak Leaf County would at last be celebrating their first Sam Maguire Cup win.

N.B. Apparently, Con had witnessed Derry's great win, in the 1992 Ulster semi final, against the then All Ireland champions Down and was so impressed with players like Tony Scullion, Kieran McKeever, Anthony Tohill, Brian McGilligan, Enda Gormley and their inspirational captain Henry Downey, that he immediately knew when they did not win that year's All Ireland they would certainly win the next year's. Somehow, I do not think that there is any great scribe out there forecasting a similar win for Derry in the near future.

[Naomh Pol CLG]

Ar dheis De go raibh a anam.

[Hardy]

And Con never sat in the press box but always stood on the terrace.

[Lar Naparka]

And Con never sat in the press box but always stood on the terrace.

Sometime in the early 80's, I took a carload of kids to Landsdowne to watch a Leinster v Munster game. While I can't remember the exact year, I can never forget those youngsters. I taught in Finglas and they were some of my sixth class pupils.
To say I was teaching a volatile gang is an understatement and this bunch of little beauts were the liveliest of the lot.
The craic was ninety, mar a deirfá, and by the time I landed them on the terraces they were in flying form. The day was cold and the game was dire and the spectators around us spent more time bantering with my lot than in watching the proceedings out on the field.
Con was at the game, standing in line with the '22' at the Landsdowne Road end. I noticed that he showed no emotion whatever throughout the entire game, break included. He would turn his head to exchange remarks with anyone who spoke to him or stand aside to let another pass by but that was about the height of it.
Damned if I could see anything out on the pitch that was worth looking at. He stood about 30 yards apart from my buddies and I, and as none of them were brave enough to go up to the old gent with the long silvery hair and the ankle length frieze overcoat, I thought he hadn't noticed their carry-on.
I was wrong.
After the game was over, the little buggers hared out onto the pitch to have a look around; they had pencils and notebooks at the ready, waiting to ambush the players when they emerged from the dressing rooms on the far side. That was allowed but I motioned them to come back to me on the sideline.  I didn't fancy a row with any steward who might be daft enough to try and intercept one of them.
Now, the terraces had almost emptied and I thought nobody was watching us as we stood by the corner flag, where I got them in line, ready to walk around the pitch with me to the dressing rooms.
Suddenly, one of the chirpier ones piped up, "Sir, I want to score a try."
"Good man," sez I, "here's the ball. You can't do worse than anyone who was out there."
So he tucked the imaginary ball under his arm and walked back about 20 yards to wind up for his equally imaginary try.
He stood still for about five seconds, to rev up as it were, and then with an ear-splitting 'Yippee,' he took off. He deftly sidestepped through the bunch, giving me a hefty hand off into the bargain, and then with a flying leap, he crossed the try line and slid along for a good yard or more.
This last flourish took everyone, including the try scorer, by surprise.
"Jaysus," I thought, "the two of us will be in trouble when his ma sees the state he is in."
Then Con tapped me on the shoulder.
"Leave him be, master. Don't break the child's spirit. The dirt will wash out." (Or something like that- can't  recall exactly, given all those years and my befuddled state of mind at the time.)
Anyway, Con went over to the lad; picked him up; patted him on the head and told him he had never seen such a well-executed try.
He stood around chatting with the boys for a couple of minutes and it was hard to credit that he was the same man who had been standing on the terraces behind us for almost two hours without moving a foot one way or the other.
Talk about a study in contrasts. It was as if a statute had come to life.
He didn't need to be told who they were;where they were from or where they were off to either.
He already knew. I had thought he wouldn't have noticed our presence but obviously he had and what's more, his hearing must have been exceptionally sharp.
He offered me a handshake on parting and said, "They're best mannered young men I have ever met, master; a great credit to you and their parents."
Whatever about the credit, he was right about their manners. They knew their limits.
None of them went on to play rugby; Finglas people had different interests but all of them will never forget the gentle giant  with the culchie accent who stopped to chat with them in Landsdowne Road.
I know this because I have met them all from time to time since we parted company and without fail, the meeting with Con Houlihan will be mentioned.

God rest him, the gentle soul. I won't forget him either.

[Fear ón Srath Bán]

Damned if I could see anything out on the pitch that was worth looking at. He stood about 30 yards apart from my buddies and I me,...

Great story Lar, but I hope you weren't teaching them grammar like that! 

[the Deel Rover]

And Con never sat in the press box but always stood on the terrace.

Love that picture of him behind the fencing on the death notices thread. May he rest in peace .

[Declan]

Great story Lar

[Hardy]

Thanks for that, Lar.

[Shamrock Shore]

Mighty stuff Lar. I was picturing it all in my head as I read it.

[magpie seanie]

Mighty stuff Lar. I was picturing it all in my head as I read it.

When Con put his hand on Lar's shoulder some of the gift must have transferred.

[the Deel Rover]

Mighty stuff Lar. I was picturing it all in my head as I read it.

When Con put his hand on Lar's shoulder some of the gift must have transferred.

For sure Seanie. Lar has a great way of writing a yarn, every now and again i think about the one he wrote about the bike and no brakes and smile to myself . One of my favourite posters on the board  . Keep it up Lar   

[magpie seanie]

Mighty stuff Lar. I was picturing it all in my head as I read it.

When Con put his hand on Lar's shoulder some of the gift must have transferred.

For sure Seanie. Lar has a great way of writing a yarn, every now and again i think about the one he wrote about the bike and no brakes and smile to myself . One of my favourite posters on the board  . Keep it up Lar 

Just broke out laughing in the office there. I wonder did he tell the young pups in Finglas that one!

[Croí na hÉireann]

Mighty stuff Lar. I was picturing it all in my head as I read it.

When Con put his hand on Lar's shoulder some of the gift must have transferred.

For sure Seanie. Lar has a great way of writing a yarn, every now and again i think about the one he wrote about the bike and no brakes and smile to myself . One of my favourite posters on the board  . Keep it up Lar 

Agree with all preceeding posts, lovely story, well told. Off home now, must put the bike in for a service. http://gaaboard.com/board/index.php?topic=21668.msg1114389#msg1114389