Sport

Brendan Crossan: Burgers and diesel in Cabragh as Mickey Harte left the stage

Mickey Harte at his home last Friday after announcing his decision to step down as Tyrone manager Picture by Hugh Russell.
Mickey Harte at his home last Friday after announcing his decision to step down as Tyrone manager Picture by Hugh Russell. Mickey Harte at his home last Friday after announcing his decision to step down as Tyrone manager Picture by Hugh Russell.

IT had come to this. Eating a hamburger at the side of the road in Cabragh.

Pumped with adrenaline and sweating.

A day when every single second counts.

We’ll rewind to last Thursday morning and a missed call and voicemail left on my phone. I’ve always found the person who left the message to be a gentleman, reliable and trustworthy.

Mickey Harte, he told me, had decided to step down as Tyrone manager.

The plan was Mickey would draft a statement later that day and give it to The Irish News for publication in the following day’s edition.

After 21 years working for The Irish News, stories don’t come much bigger than this. I’d caught the tail end of Art McRory and Eugene McKenna’s reign in Tyrone – but Mickey Harte, it seemed, had been there from the start of time, an integral part of the GAA journalistic landscape.

I was advised to text Mickey for the statement’s release. Mickey replied and said he would check in with me later that day.

The afternoon edged forward at a snail’s pace, checking my phone every five minutes.

Nothing.

Our sports team – all of us glued together by WhatsApp since the middle of March - had assumed editorial positions.

Our sports editor Thomas Hawkins cleared the decks and lined up tribute pieces of Tyrone’s legendary manager.

Only it didn’t happen on Thursday night. So everyone went back to the drawing board with a different plan for the following day's paper.

My source said Mickey had opted to “change the format” of announcing his departure. An exit interview would take place at his home on Friday morning.

The school run is done. My phone rings.

Declan Bogue’s name flashes up on my screen.

‘What time are you meeting Mickey?’ Declan enquires, nonchalantly playing down the significance of what’s about to unfold in the GAA world.

We contemplated doing a joint interview in Mickey’s house but then decided on separate interviews.

Turns out Declan is on at 11am. I’m at 12noon.

Typically, Declan is easy to deal with.

So, what do you ask Mickey Harte upon his retirement from managing Tyrone?

Thirty years of unstinting service. Should have been 31.

Where is your starting point? 1991? The tragedy of ’97. Back-to-back All-Ireland U21 titles? ’03? Cormac? Michaela? Matters of the heart? The end?

I scribble down a few notes, get in my car and head west. The Motorcycle Diaries soundtrack is on a loop in my car.

I wonder how Declan’s getting on.

Glencull is tranquil on this beautiful Friday morning. Where a football legend lives.

I drive up Mickey’s driveway. With a beaming smile, Mickey emerges from a small out-house, a makeshift gym where he pounds the treadmill and works the cross-trainer a few times per week.

The three of us are standing in Mickey’s driveway plotting how best to break the news to the GAA world. Mickey couldn't be more accommodating.

It’s agreed that he will drop a message into the team’s WhatsApp group at 9pm telling the players he’s stepping down and on the stroke of 9.30pm Declan and I will announce the news on social media.

It’s strange to say the least that Declan and I know Mickey’s news before his own players. Declan bids us farewell and I sit down with Mickey in the small out-house for an interview that lasts one hour and one minute long.

As soon as we part, the day becomes utterly manic. Do you know how long it takes to transcribe an hour-long interview?

The WhatsApp pings and pings and pings.

It's all hands to the pump.

Thomas, our sports editor, organises Hugh Russell, one of our photographers, to get down to Glencull as fast as he can. He also alerts the marketing, news and digital departments.

A page plan is drawn up. How to present the biggest GAA news story in a long, long time. The sub-editing team are now on board.

Hugh Russell rings.

'Where's Mickey's house?'

The WhatsApp pings some more. Declan rings. All good, Declan. All good.

I'm at least an hour away from home and my car is running on fumes. Of all days to be stranded.

The stress.

I spot a sign off to the left of the motorway. Cabragh. Services.

Hallelujah.

The diesel nozzle is like pouring liquid gold into a rusted and eternally thankful 2004 Passat - my passport in getting home in the nick of time to turn around roughly 4,000 words in five desperate hours.

I grab a burger in the service station and sit at the side of the road. It tastes like heaven. The WhatsApp pings.

For the next five hours I literally don't budge from my chair and the dining room table. The keyboard finds a rhythm and Mickey's words coming flying out.

You don't notice the fading light outside.

Hugh Russell sends me his photographs of Mickey. Great work, Hugh.

Thomas is pulling all the various strands together and making sense of tomorrow's edition.

It's a rare thing for a story to dominate the front page, command the back page and two full pages inside.

Marty McGoran is sport's chief sub-editor, the invisible metronome who keeps everything even on nights like these.

With the deadline approaching, everything is calm.

Every newspaper needs good sub-editors. We're blessed in The Irish News.

A good sub-editor is like a referee you don't see during a game but who contributes hugely to our enjoyment.

But you'll never see their name in the paper. You only see the reporter's name. All praise be to the reporter.

What a joke.

Last Friday was one of those days when you had the perfect view of how the various parts of a newspaper function seamlessly under pressure.

Friday the 13th of November 2020 will be remembered for a few things: Mickey Harte's serene smile, the professionalism of colleagues and that divine hamburger at the side of the road in Cabragh.