His name is Jim Gavin.
As a football manager, he is arguably the greatest of all time, winning six All-Ireland titles, including the nigh impossible five-in-a-row.
We should know everything about Jim Gavin. But we know next to nothing.
Beyond a few biographical details, he has kept us all very much at arm’s length.
When Jim does grant an interview, he sets out to be as boring as possible.
I can say this with some certainty.
On an Allstar trip to Boston, I had jetlag, couldn’t sleep and went to the hotel foyer where there was a 24-hour Starbucks.
There I met Jim Gavin who was also wide awake.
I had a long conversation with Jim Gavin that morning.
The Jim Gavin I spoke to in those twilight hours bore no resemblance to the man who could put you to sleep during a post-match interview.
During our chat Jim talked about flying aeroplanes, American football, basketball, Gaelic football and tactics. He wasn’t boring in the slightest.
I have studied the elusive Jim Gavin ever since. But like everyone else, I’ve been forced to feed off scraps.
Last week, the former Dublin manager offered us some more insights via an article he wrote for The Sports Chronicle.
Typically of Gavin, there were no major revelations, but there were little nuggets which help put another piece of the jigsaw together.
Tellingly, Gavin states that human performance has always “fascinated” him.
As a sport journalist, I shared a similar fascination for managers.
What makes a great manager? Why do men who run successful companies fail disastrously on the sideline?
Conversely, why does a man with no experience of managing people triumph spectacularly in the changing room?
I remain intrigued with that alchemy.
The Culture Code by Daniel Coyle tackles this age-old conundrum.
During the four years Coyle spent researching the book, he gained access to some of the most successful groups in the world, including Google, Pixar and the US Navy Seals.
When you read The Culture Code and consider Jim Gavin’s background in sport, military and aviation – the penny starts to drop.
Recounting his formative years, Gavin describes being dropped off at the Curragh for cadet school “wearing my father’s suit”.
Half an hour after his parents had turned the car for Dublin, “the floppy-haired boy was the Full Metal Jacket skinhead”.
Obviously, Gavin learned about the values of discipline and obedience in the army. But he also learned that “preparation is nine tenths performance”.
In The Culture Code, Daniel Coyle interviewed Dave Cooper, the Navy Seal chief who trained the unit that assassinated Osama Bin Laden.
It turns out that Cooper didn’t agree with the decision to employ the stealth helicopters which were used on that mission.
Stealth helicopters were chosen because they are invisible to radar.
But Cooper objected because they were untested in combat. Cooper was aware that America’s special ops history is littered with disasters caused by using untested equipment.
Despite his protests, Admiral William McRaven overruled Cooper and insisted he stick to the original plan.
Cooper could either blindly follow orders or defy them. In the end, he did neither.
He chose a third path. He trained his men how to execute the plan even if it didn’t go to plan.
The Seals built replicas of Bin Laden’s compound in North Carolina, Nevada and Afghanistan.
In each place, Cooper ran scenarios which simulated crashes outside the compound, inside the compound, on the roof and in the yard.
It was just as well. One of the helicopters did crash.
The high walls of Bin Laden’s compound created draughts which disrupted the flight.
(The replica compounds in America were built with wire fences not solid walls).
Despite the seeming disaster, the Seals were able to complete the mission because Dave Cooper had trained them for that precise eventuality.
As a pilot Jim Gavin also understands the importance of preparing for the unexpected.
He writes: “If an aircraft loses pressure above 30,000ft you have about 30 seconds of ‘useful consciousness’ to do as the instructions say.”
He goes on: “It’s a very hostile environment to operate in but it’s all taken as normal. As routine. Because the preparation has been done, the lessons have been learned…”
Gavin accepts that “some people might have looked at my teams and thought they were like robots in how they perform. But that’s far from it.”
Nope. They weren’t robots. They were more like soldiers who had received intensive training on how to react when the game-plan doesn’t go to plan.
“Standing over a ball in Croke Park in front of 82,000 people you can’t be anchored in the past and thinking about the last point you missed. That will distract you from the present moment,” writes Gavin.
What better man to coach someone on how to deal with the mind-bomb that is an All-Ireland final?
Bear in mind Gavin can’t just fly an airbus. He trains others pilots how to fly them.
If you can teach someone what to do when the air pressure fails at 30,000ft and 750mph, it’s a decent background for showing men how to win football matches.
