You flick through the archives looking for a photo of Colm Cavanagh and it’s near impossible to find a clean one. A polished one.
They’re all rough, all action-laden, all of them the photographers probably had half a second to snap.
Men are hanging off him, he’s shipping big hits, taking punches in the face, being grabbed around the neck. He’s scrambling for the ball on the ground, crawling through puddles, reaching into the air, tackling someone, and all of his photos always seem to just capture him at the point of exhaustion. Pain.
That’s not a coincidence.
It’s a mark of the player that he is. It’s a mark of the man that he is.
You’d do well to find a photo of Colm Cavanagh looking composed. You wouldn’t see him in time or space, shaping up for a pass, kicking a handy point. You rarely get that poster-ready money shot of him waiting to pull the trigger or just assessing his options like you would see in so many of Seán Cavanagh’s action pictures.
Okay, maybe Colm isn’t as composed as his older brother. Maybe he’s not pulling the trigger as much. But maybe, just maybe, nobody is in the wars quite like the Moy man is.
On Sunday, it was no different. It never is.
Colm Cavanagh gave photographers little opportunity to capture him in motion as he trawled around Croke Park throwing his body off anything that moved in blue. If it wasn’t 100 mph, it wasn’t Colm Cavanagh.
It was another stand-out performance from the number eight but there wasn’t one photo of him on the Inpho website during the Division Two league final with Cavan to remember it. Not one.
Because there probably wasn’t one moment you could definitively point to to mark his display. There never really is.
There’d be no headlines again, no photo spreads, nothing for the back of the fridge never mind the mantelpiece. Just another warrior-like shift. Just another job well done. Probably some sense of inner fulfillment. A pat on the back from Mickey Harte. A special place in the hearts of the Tyrone faithful.
It’s hard to prepare for Cavanagh’s moments, you see. It’s one thing to capture them never mind anticipate them.
That’s what makes him so good. So deadly, even.
He springs from nowhere. He leaps from 10 feet behind you. He cuts out long balls into his own defence when everyone is already looking at the full forward line. He hammers a runner into the ground on his arse when he’s looking to pick a pass or a score. He pops the ball off and he surges off for the return. He personifies the lightning quick Tyrone counter attacks because he’s at the other side of the field before you could ready your next film and, before you know it, he’s trotting back into position at the edge of his own defence having let someone else take the glory.
When Cavanagh first burst onto the scene, there were question marks from outside of Tyrone about his ability. He offered energy from midfield, he was a lively runner when he was deployed at half forward but he seemed erratic. Unpredictable.
Perhaps one of Mickey Harte’s finest ever achievements was transforming this wildcard into one of the most consistent and dependable players in Ireland.
Now, Cavanagh is disciplined. He’s got a smart head on sacrificial shoulders that he doesn’t hesitate for a second to put on the line if it means interrupting an opposition attack even for a step. He turns over the ball better than anyone in the country and he’s looking straight out the field with it when he does.
He’s organising the backline, he’s fighting for everything around the middle – high balls and low balls – and he’s bursting forward with frightening momentum when the rest of them are hesitating.
Now, Cavanagh is one of the leaders in a Tyrone team that, eight years after their last All-Ireland success, could go the whole way to the third Sunday in September. Now, Cavanagh is one of the main reasons for that.
After Dublin swatted Kerry aside like a pest with 11 points to spare in the Division One final, as question marks hang over Donegal’s longevity, Mayo’s nerve, Mickey Harte has taken his time but he’s assembled what is possibly the biggest threat to Jim Gavin.
Dublin look unbeatable at present but they haven’t met this Tyrone side yet.
They haven’t met Cathal McCarron or Ronan McNamee or Justin McMahon. They haven’t met their tenacity, their bite, not anywhere before. Not anything like it.
Tyrone are unlike any of the challenges that the All-Ireland champions have disposed of thus far. And, quietly and assuredly, the Red Hands have put together an outfit that won’t fear anyone.
They’ve put together a spine that’s lined with Mattie Donnelly’s biceps and Seán Cavanagh’s evergreen class and power.
They’ve put together an attack that’s revolving around the whippet likes of Ronan O’Neill and Connor McAliskey, one that’s being serviced like clockwork by Peter Harte who seems to never run out of time on the ball.
And they’ve put together Colm Cavanagh, the anchor of Tyrone.
The man that can’t be moved. The man that can’t be broken. The man that doesn’t know when he’s beaten.
The man in the way of everything. The man everything goes through.
Colm Cavanagh isn’t given half the spotlight he has earned. It’s about time he has received the recognition for his performances.
Just don’t expect him to stop for your cameras any time soon though.
