Four powerful images that sum up the hardiest midfielder in the GAA

Conan Doherty

“Come back with your shield, or on it.”

Patsy Bradley has always been every inch a warrior.

He only understands the fight. If he needed a shield, if – like the Spartans – what he was holding was imperative for the defensive stability of his army, he’d never even move a finger off of it, no matter what he faced.

But it’s not time for cliches or lip service about his toughness because this man is different to the rest. This man is cut out of rock.

He doesn’t go down fighting because he rarely goes down. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve because, honestly, his sleeves wouldn’t be big enough.

Patsy Bradley telling Michael Murphy to take a fucking seat pic.twitter.com/ViL0lz2gSR

— Conán Doherty (@ConanDoherty) February 28, 2018

Back in 2013, Brian McIver was on the cusp of doing something with Derry. They lost to Down at Celtic Park in the opening round of the Ulster championship and, frankly, they were cleaned out in the middle. Bradley was spared in the fallout though because it was well-documented that he was carrying a back injury. The narrative that followed the qualifiers was that the imposing Slaughtneil soldier should be shown mercy and rested until he’s finally right again but, a few weeks later, Derry were drawn with Down again in the backdoor and Patsy Bradley was selected at midfield again.

That day, he ate up the yards of Celtic Park – and all the inhabitants of it – like a man possessed. From the first minute when he hurled himself into Kevin McKernan – so dominant the first day – and stripped him of the ball, it was a relentless display of insatiable hunger. Five times in the first half he had come charging back inside Derry’s 21′ to clatter another Down jersey and batter his way back out again with possession. When everyone else were shadowing men and standing up their markers, Bradley was just flinging himself around the plains of another GAA pitch with the sort of reckless abandon of a warrior poet who had already written his goodbyes.

It was like he was insulted that anyone would dare make an excuse for him. As if he’d allow himself to ever accept second best, whatever the circumstance. So, yet again, he put his body on the line in another inspiring gut-filled performance that Derry Gaels have been lucky enough to be treated to for the last 15 years.

You know, it hasn’t been a great period for Oak Leaf football. Medals are few and far between, Ulster titles are a distant memory and the senior side has just fallen gradually further and further down the pecking order but it’s hard to curse a barren spell like this one when it was spent in the company of Patsy Bradley. You can’t just write off recent history and call it unsuccessful when the county could stand back in awe of one of the greats whose skill, athleticism and manic, manic desire could single-handedly illuminate an entire career of any youngster who got to witness him parallel with the ground, six feet in the air.

After two All-Ireland final losses, Patsy Bradley captained his club Slaughtneil this season and led them to their third Ulster title in their history. On Saturday night, he stormed out in Portlaoise, showing the way for his comrades who, once again, although they were on the back foot and looking like they were going down, fought back and kept on fighting.

When you look at photographers’ photos after a game, they can always give you a fair idea of what sort of battle each player had. Were they in cruise control, were they even in control at all or were they in the wars, bang smack in the middle of it all.

There were three action shots of Patsy Bradley on Sportsfile after that semi-final defeat to Nemo Rangers and they encapsulated that stubbornness that allows him to go to some place where he’s not just willing but almost psychopathically thrilled to transform his body into a human sacrifice for the cause.

Patsy Bradley’s not a man who would stop for too many interviews. He’d politely smile and nervously laugh and try to be as nice as possible about brushing you off but, to be honest, anyone who’s even caught a glimpse of him in the heat of battle wouldn’t need any words from him because all the talking he needs to do, he does it on the pitch and he does it with his actions.

Mary K Burke, one of the finest photographers in the GAA, has this unbelievable ability to capture the entire story with one single shot. A picture of her’s would tell you everything you need to know, not just about the game or its sub plots, but about a person’s whole character too.

Maybe when a club comes as passionate as Slaughtneil, it gets a little easier to do but, throughout their show-stopping journey over the last few years, Burke has stopped time and immortalised moments.

She’s the one who captured that blood-filled image of the Slaughtneil hurler that, with one picture, summed up the entire club. She’s the one who produced that moving picture of the Slaughtneil physio at Croke Park last year that showed the game is so much more than the ones fortunate enough to play it.

And, with one powerfully poignant picture of a man that every GAA person on this isle should be proud of, Mary K Burke’s work sums up the day, sums up the battle, the emotion and, what is more, it tells you everything you could ever want to know about Patsy Bradley.