It was 1997 and we had just demolished the remnants of John's great Lavey team in the county semi-final replay. The drawn game had been hot and heavy. Geoffrey McGonigle and Henry Downey were sent off. In injury time, I kicked a long range point to seemingly guarantee victory. But Lavey were like the hydra then, cut off one tentacle and another grows!
From the kick-out, the ball broke and one of their half backs launched a massive kick between the posts. The final whistle blew. The replay spelled the end for them. In front of a huge crowd (half of Ulster claims they were at it), I racked up score after score. The Dungiven crowd bayed for more. The Lavey men were scything me down from all directions. For every score, I raised the fist and blew the kisses. With a few minutes to go, I scored again and their midfielder, James Shivers, threw a flurry of punches at me.

The referee called him over to administer the only sentence available. At the whistle, it was clear that it was the end of Derry's greatest ever club team. But John Brennan doesn't accept defeat. He wanted to plant a seed of defiance. Send me back across the mountain with a memento. I thought about it afterwards and concluded he was absolutely right. This man understands that championship football is man-to-man combat. What he brings is war.

This, coupled with his obvious footballing intelligence, makes him perhaps the most successful club manager in the modern era. Unlike say Joe Kernan, who had one astonishingly talented group of players at his disposal and managed them superbly, John has gone to a series of clubs dying on their feet and provided the kiss of life. Seven county titles in three different counties, most of them with virtual unknowns, is a record unlikely to be surpassed.

In Cargin for example, they swear by him. After a recent club dinner, where I said a few words, the players gathered Around the bar and toasted "The Beast." He brought them a county title in his first year. He showed them how to win. After a memorable final against the favourites, St Paul's, which ended with a terrific fist fight up and down the field, John was interviewed on Radio Ulster and said: "We may not get the cup, but we certainly won the battle!"

As it turned out, he was right. They were stripped of the title (though it was later restored). When he arrived in Slaughtneil in 2004, they had never won a county title. By the end of the year they were county champions and facing Crossmaglen in Ulster. Slaughtneil should have beaten them the first day in Maghera. The replay was in Crossmaglen and from the throw-in the unknowns got ripped into their vaunted opponents. Having dominated throughout, they lost at the death to a fluked goal, a '45' that landed short slipping through the goalie's hands.

It all began with Lavey in 1988. They were a supremely talented group. They had won four league titles in a row but made no impact in the Championship. John turned it all around. I remember it well. Up until then, ourselves and Ballinderry used to bully the young Downeys and McGurks into submission. The bullying ended in 1988. I asked Johnny McGurk recently what was the secret. I wrote his answer down word for word

"There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that what John Brennan taught us in 1988 changed our footballing lives."

"What did he teach you?" I asked.

"Unadulterated war!" said Johnny.

John recalled training sessions where he told them repeatedly to "Bone the b.....ards," referring to no team in particular and the world in general. Once he punched his hands together so hard when he was telling them this that his watch broke.

It was if you like an article of faith. He also selected his team very shrewdly and understood the strengths and weaknesses of the opposition. He placed his trust in a host of teenagers. He made a 20-year-old unknown his centre-half back and captain. That boy was Henry Downey. In a way, John transformed football not only in Lavey but Derry.
Those nice Lavey young boys began to retaliate first. Which gave them the springboard to succeed. Once teams realised they could not be intimidated, this allowed them to play their football.

They won the title that year and got to the Ulster semi-final, but it was clear this was just the beginning. The following year, the manager got a lengthy suspension arising out a fierce argy-bargy after the first round of the Derry Championship. Lavey were forced to bring in a new man at the helm, but the tone had been set. They immediately won the All-Ireland title. As Johnny McGurk puts it, their "footballing lives had been changed forever." As with any footballer who played under him, there is a tone of reverence.

One of the most astounding things to happen in Derry football for many years is that Loup are the County Champions. My cousin, Patrick McGucken, rang me after the county final from his well appointed Ballinderry home and said when he heard the news he had to go and lie down in a darkened room. Martin McElkennon does the training for them, but make no mistake, this title is all about John Brennan. He alone selects the team. He alone makes the key decisions. He is the man manager.

This latest triumph is another example of how he can motivate his players to battle for every inch. I was right behind the dug-out for that final and it is obvious that he has modified his style. His positional switches and substitutions were made swiftly and to great effect. He used to terrorise the sideline, patrolling up and down roaring and shoulder-charging.

Opposing management teams were basically confined to their dug-out. Part of that was of course winning the psychological war, but part of it was also that this is what John is, a force of nature. He is much cooler now, a formidable balance of passion and acumen.

Fintan Devlin is Loup's centre half-back. Before the county final, he injured his right hand very badly, totally dislocating his thumb and tearing the ligaments. Three days before the game, he had an operation to pin the thumb at the Royal Victoria. He played the county final with a special cast that meant his hand was immobile. No one would have noticed, as he tore into the breaking ball with abandon. A week later I met him in the hospital and he showed me the mangled paw.

"How in the name of Jesus did you play like that?" I said.

He grinned: "As you know yourself Joe, we have no luxury players in the Loup. But we have raw heart."

Raw heart indeed, and a manager who keeps it pumping.