‘It was one-touch football. As Cork may learn, those who dwelt in possession got nailed'

THE IDEA that plain old hard work and discipline are the twin planks of success can be hard to accept, particularly for perennial runners-up.

There’s always a temptation to believe that some brilliant techniques and innovative coaching devices are what really separate winners from losers.

I am more guilty than most of believing in the ‘secret way’. And as I walked towards a Tyrone training session last Tuesday night, some of my long-held suspicions looked like they were going to be proved correct.

The session took place at the Mid-Ulster Sports Arena just outside Cookstown. The two gaelic pitches are located in the far corner of the sprawling complex.

As the players came into sharper focus, I could have sworn that I saw them playing a mini-sided game with a rugby ball.

‘Ah-ha,’ I thought to myself. ‘This is why they average 17 points a game in Croke Park. If you train with a rugby ball, the O’Neills size five must seem like a doddle.’ But a Tyrone die-hard watching from the sidelines was unimpressed. “I came down here once and they were playing with a tennis ball,” he said.

The game with the oval ball didn’t last long. In fact, very few of the drills, games, and exercises supervised by trainer Fergal McCann lasted very long.

Everything was done at an extremely brisk tempo. The press-ups and sit-ups were in sets of five. The nine-a-side conditioned games were played in one-minute bursts. McCann would referee one game and Mickey Harte the other.

These games were followed by a sequence of taxing physical exercises.

(So much for everything being done with the ball!) This is when the two white vans parked between the two pitches came into play.

The vans held the low hurdles, which were put at the start of the 40-metre sprinting drills. They also contained equipment that I’ve never seen on a training pitch.

Medicine balls were produced for one set of strengthening exercises.

Then out came these foam moulds that could be held by the players on their shoulders.

They were divided into groups of five. One player would put the weight on his shoulders and jump, taking his knees into his chest, for about 30 seconds. It looked exhausting.

Another drill, done in groups of three, required nothing but strength and thrust. One player would stand rigid, hands by his side, and fall forwards like a toppling pillar.

He would be prevented from crashing face-first into the ground by the player in front of him, who would stop his fall, then propel him backwards. The man in the middle would then start falling backwards and be stopped by the player behind him, who would thrust him forward.

And so he would continue, like a pendulum.

All these drills were done with remarkable speed and efficiency. And, despite the huge variation, there was a seamless transition between each discipline.

If the first half-hour of the session provided a few novel ideas and sights, the remaining hour was utterly familiar.

Forget about ground-breaking systems and think tackling – lots and lots of tackling. On the second pitch, which was divided into six channels, McCann barked out instructions for various drills. There was two-on-one, two-on-two and three against three.

The chief characteristics of these exercises were that they were hard and fair. When goalkeeper Johnny Curran got caught unbalanced he was unceremoniously lifted off his feet with a shoulder charge. But it was all best practice. There was none of the sloppy, lazy, and illegal tackling, which normally creeps into club sessions and goes unpunished.

Throughout it all, Mickey Harte quietly presided over everything with Tony Donnelly by his side.

Mainly silent, the players were aware the manager was surveying their every step. During one tackling drill, when a group of players charged through a lame defence, Harte was quick to shout: “That was too easy, boys.” It was the only time I heard him raise his voice.

HARTE’S demeanour came as no huge surprise. The same cannot be said for the atmosphere in which the session was conducted.

Given that the spine of this group has been together for over a decade, some level of jocularity and levity would be expected. After all, many of the Tyrone players are friends and team-mates.

But, with the very odd exception, the 90 minutes were completed with grim-faced intent. It was totally business-like. Cork and Sunday’s All-Ireland semi-final was never mentioned.

Again, it would be inaccurate to make a sweeping generalisation as one player did joke, quip, and jibe his way through the evening. He was Ryan McMenamin, the glue which holds Tyrone together, and the one player who already looks tailor-made for a successful career in management.

When he won a sprint, ‘Ricey’ did a mock celebration. And when he lined up against Conor Gormley and Mickey McGee in a tackling drill, he looked at both and observed that he was facing: “The parish of Carrickmore.” Then he and Gormley went for each other like snarling dogs. When the hostilities ended, they walked off smiling.

It was worth an admission fee. The tackling was frenetic and, by 8.40pm, a few players were gasping for breath. But it was far from over.

When everyone was called into the circle, Donnelly announced the teams for the 15-a-side game and went over a few details. Harte added a few words.

At this juncture, the benefits of Tyrone’s 30-plus squad became apparent. John Devine may have been injured and Owen Mulligan and Brian Dooher were receiving treatment, but Harte was still able to play a full 15-a-side game with two specialist goalkeepers on an incredibly broad pitch. (It wouldn’t surprise me if the pitch had the same measurements as Croke Park).

Again, the trend for short bursts of each activity continued. The first game lasted less than 10 minutes and was followed by further tackling.

Then, after a second huddle, and more instructions from Donnelly and Harte, there was a second game.

Harte refereed and, unlike his friend Brian Cody, he did blow the whistle. Poor tackling was penalised.

Although the players had been training flat-out for 80 minutes, the speed of the last contest was mightily impressive.

It was mostly one-touch football. As Cork may learn, those who dwelt in possession got nailed.

And, judging by the kick-outs, it was obvious that plans are being put in place to deal with Cork’s huge height advantage at midfield.

However, the residence of the 6’3” Justin McMahon in the full-back line suggested that Harte isn’t going to tinker with his line-up.

Of course, that could change. During the training sessions before last year’s All-Ireland final, Harte kept playing Joe McMahon at wing-forward and full-back long after he had decided that the Omagh man would be marking Tommy Walsh.

Why? Because he wanted to keep all the players guessing about the final 15 in order to maintain maximum intensity for the longest possible time before the final.

So, yes, there are tricks, there are managerial manoeuvres. But, they merely provide the finishing touches.

Go watch Tyrone train, and you’ll see in Cookstown what you’ll see in Croke Park this Sunday: tackling – lots and lots of tackling.