IT was December 11 2000, the morning after the night before, when Neil Lennon had made his Celtic debut against Dundee at Dens Park.
Answering the ringing sports desk landline, it was the club’s longstanding press officer, Iain Jamieson, on the other end of the phone.
He had someone with him who wanted a word.
Having only been at the paper a matter of months, this was the last thing this young reporter wanted to hear.
The previous evening’s task was to file 500 words on the first outing of Celtic’s new £6million signing from Leicester City.
And it’s fair to say the copy delivered to a, shall we say, ‘demanding’ sports editor was frank and to the point.
It was mainly positive on a man who would become such an influential Celtic player.
But the intro was something about how the new arrival may have been a long time coming, but fans would have to wait even longer before seeing the best of him due to the extra pounds being carried by the bleached blond Northern Irishman.
Had Twitter been around back then, it would have gone viral.
But social media keyboard warriors would have been like purring pussycats compared to the volcanic voice on the other end of the line.
No, Martin O’Neill’s tones couldn’t be described as dulcet.
He wouldn’t have had the first idea who he was talking to. More to the point, he wouldn’t have cared less.
He was used to dealing with a doyen like Rodger Baillie, not some upstart barely qualified to make the great man’s morning coffee.
Anyway, O’Neill had a “that’s his fighting weight” message to deliver and he had no intention of making it a two-way conversation.
That said, it did very much sound like there were two people in his office as he screamed into his speaker — and one of them had just cost him six million quid.
It possibly wasn’t the smartest move to request an exclusive interview mid rant. But in for a penny . . .
Fast forward to the summer of 2014 and it’s the day before the World Cup final between Argentina and Germany.
Think Rio. A shopping mall. And one of those infuriating conversations with the bank when you’re asking why your cards have been frozen just when you’re about to spend some money.
Gifts for the wife and kids after five weeks in Brazil were suddenly in danger.
But who should be wandering around in the same shopping centre?
It’s fair to stay the former Celtic manager had mellowed by that stage and become far less confrontational with pesky press men like yours truly.
Curious to my obvious angst, the one-time Angriest Man in the Western World was showing genuine sympathy to my predicament and kindly offering a loan of money.
It took a good ten minutes before he’d take no for an answer.
Even then he insisted on buying lunch until the banking glitch had been resolved.
Tomorrow the Celtic supporters will chant, ‘There’s only one Martin O’Neill’ as his return as caretaker manager looks set to come to an end.
But there are definitely two sides to him.
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