I never met the late Paddy McNally, a British businessman who died this week aged 88, except perhaps in an alternative universe. But it seems plausible that we might have been cousins, however distant. And we certainly had a few big things in common.There’s the surname, obviously, and a close connection with the forename too. Among the Paddy McNallys I have known personally was my father. Then there is the Monaghan angle.The man who has just died was born Patrick Seán McNally in England in 1937, but of a father (an RAF doctor also named Patrick) from Tedavnet, just outside Monaghan town.And when the second World War broke out, the patriarch moved his young family back there, so that the English Paddy McNally spent some of his actual childhood in Monaghan too.Other things we have in common is that he was a briefly a vacuum cleaner salesman (I did it for three weeks in Australia once), before becoming a journalist. At the risk of clutching at straws, there’s also the whole car racing thing. He was an actual racing driver. I once spent an hour hurtling around the track of the National Rally School in Scotstown, and almost mastered the handbrake turn.From there, however, it must be admitted that Paddy’s path and mine diverge dramatically. Of particular note is that he went on to become a multimillionaire international playboy, something I haven’t yet managed. According to the obituaries, he transformed the sponsorship of Formula 1 racing and used the wealth to fund a lavish lifestyle, with homes in Britain, France and Switzerland, hosting countless ski parties in Vernier, in a chalet nicknamed “Cocaine Castle”.He is now probably best known for having had a three-year affair with Sarah Ferguson, before she was a duchess.Although she at first called him “the toad”, and her father – a major in the Household Cavalry – considered him the wrong sort, there must have been something about the extremely rich McNally that appealed to her.She became determined to marry him and, after he ignored many hints to that effect, issued an ultimatum at the Italian Grand Prix. But he ignored that too. Instead of a wedding ring, he gave her a lift to a party at Windsor Castle, where she met the now former prince Andrew. The rest is history. Reading of Paddy’s death this week, and of his fortune estimated at €718 million, gave me pause for thought at what might have happened had my life taken a handbrake turn or two in a different direction.I was interested to learn from a memoir written by McNally’s brother Peter that none of the family went to school during their Irish years. Growing up in Poplar Vale, a big house later to become an agricultural college, they had no Catholic school locally and their devout mother wouldn’t consider a Protestant one.Their education was instead attempted by a succession of governesses, none of whom lasted long. “We must have been terrible children,” Peter writes.No details of the governesses’ mistreatment are given, but there’s a hint of how terrible the children were in Peter’s account of a quasi-scientific project undertaken during that period by him and another brother: “One day John and I decided we would find out whether cats really had nine lives. We prepared a fire, doused liberally with oil destined for the lamps in the house and some shotgun cartridges from the farm office. We put the cat on the top of the pile and were just about to set light to the bonfire when, luckily for the cat, the farm manager discovered us. “That experiment was not very successful. The next attempt ... involved throwing the cat out of a third-floor window, when it succeeded in running down the wall and escaping, totally uninjured. After that we decided it really must have nine lives.”The family returned to England in 1943, to the relief of the local governesses and cats alike.Martin McNally refereeing Meath vs Louth last year. Photograph: James Crombie/Inpho A Monaghan man in an All-Ireland finalWhile we’re on the subject, I’m proud to see that another namesake – my friend and former neighbour, Martin McNally – will referee Sunday’s All Ireland Football Final. God knows, it may be the only way a Monaghan man will ever feature in the big game. But it’s not the first time a referee from the county – or even from my hometown of Carrickmacross – has taken charge of the decider.This year marks the 30th anniversary of the notorious 1996 All-Ireland replay, when my old school-pal Pat McEnaney officiated, and a mass brawl broke out in the opening minutes. Of the many players who deserved sending off, he chose Meath’s Colm Coyle and Mayo’s Liam McHale, and the perceived imbalance of talent between those made the decision somewhat controversial in Mayo, who lost by a point. Thirty years on, the truth and reconciliation process continues.I trust there will be no mass brawls this Sunday. But either way, I wish my fellow Carrick man the best of luck.