'Molloy was the bond that held it all together' - McEniff

In a foreword to Anthony Molloy’s memoir ‘Life, Glory and Demons, Donegal’s 1992 All-Ireland winning manager Brian McEniff pays a glowing tribute to his skipper and that famous side.

Anthony Molloy, my leader of men.

The Ardara giant just has this stature, a presence that really stands out. And it did from very early on. He was our captain. You don't pick a leader, you simply observe the pack. Anthony had grown into that part under Tom Conaghan.

And when I came back into the Donegal senior football job, second time around in 1990, I saw no reason to veer from that decision. I observed and it was plainly obvious that Anthony led this group of men. And they were quite content to follow.

In a similar fashion to how Michael Murphy has held onto the captain's armband for so long with Donegal now, Anthony was in that exact same mould. And as long as I felt he was fit and ready to go, I never saw any reason to move it on simply for the sake of it.

Both he and Michael are very different types of players and individuals but they share something very unique. And it's very hard to describe.

It's a special trait. The personalities, voices and physical presences we had in that dressing room, down through the years, it was powerful stuff. But Anthony stood out. In the heat of battle, once he crossed that white line, his greatest skill on a training field or in a massive game, was that he kept people honest.

He wasn't dirty but he was also a protector. And if he felt one of the boys was getting unfair treatment then he'd take it upon himself to sort that out. He had a brilliant way of dealing with those types. He didn't strike a blow, he just got stuck into him in his own unique way.

And he was also a superb player – much better than he gets credit for. His knee issues are well documented. But I often wonder just how good he'd have been had he not struggled so badly with pain.

Months prior to his finest moment, in late 1991, I contacted a knee specialist – a surgeon that had treated some of the very best sports people on this island. We had some scans sent on to his office. We were on a mission and neither Anthony nor I had time for letters. So over the telephone, that same expert's words to me were, 'Anthony has the left knee of a 70-year-old man.'

I vividly recall being down in Sandfield, Ardara, many years prior, 1980 if I was to hazard a guess. It was an old pitch his local club often used. I remember this strapping, tanned lad approaching me, quite sheepishly in fact.

'Mr McEniff, someone told me to come speak to you. I've serious bother with my knees. And you might know who to go see.’

I was Donegal senior boss at the time and I'd seen enough that day to know I'd be picking him soon enough. Indeed, just three years after that first conversation Anthony would be lining out for me in an All-Ireland semi-final against Galway.

But that was my first personal introduction to both Anthony and his knees. And it was a situation we'd manage, together, for most of the next decade and a half. Somehow, by the grace of God, we got 1992 out of Anthony.

I often wander across the seafront in Bundoran and look across to the lights of west Donegal. I know amongst those scattered, illuminated speckles are so many of my boys. And I miss them all so much.

And I worry about them all in different ways. We created beautiful history together and it's a special moment – a dream that came true for each and every one of us. We were family, we are family. You don't move on in that sense. You never stop worrying about them.

The fact that Anthony has decided to write this book, his memoir, I know that he's doing very well and I don't have to worry about him quite so much or, at least like I once used to. And he's the best man to write this story.

We have a special relationship – one that's had its ups and downs, yes – but we remain very, very close. We talk quite often, on the phone, and he's one of the very few that doesn't need to knock when he calls to the house in person. He's family.

I love Anthony – he's the 'Big Guy' to so many but he's a good guy also. Something that has always struck me is how much time he takes with the people that still come up to him. He still has that ability to command a room.

When he calls to one of the hotels and I observe him walking across the floor, he is still turning heads. And in 1992 nothing was too much trouble for him. Every single supporter in every single town was accommodated.

Our relationship did strain in 1991, to the point where it looked like the damage might be irreparable. We had a difference of opinion over football. And he briefly retired. But when we thrashed it out, we felt there was still one more run in us, in all of us.

I'm a man of faith and I've no doubt my prayers were answered that day, in the MacCumhaill Park car park, when we mended fences. Because I have no doubt we would not have won the All-Ireland without Anthony on board.

And, regardless, the greatest compliment I can pay him is that I don't know if I would have wanted to without him being a part of it. When he agreed to come back on board, he had only one request. He wanted to lead the boys again. And there wasn't one disgruntled voice in our dressing room when I agreed to that term.

Anthony was box to box and he just had this serious level of stamina. He was quite unique in that sense. Despite his knee troubles, he trained like an animal. He'd ice that big left knee, and he'd manage that situation. And somehow, he'd be back through that same door two nights later ready to go again.

I spent a number of years in Canada and the Canadians had this saying, a term they used to describe courage, strength and defiance in the face of extreme adversity. It often made the sports pages out there. 'Intestinal fortitude' – what a beautiful term. Well, that's what Anthony had. He dug deeper than anyone had or needed to, to lift Sam Maguire.

You also have to remember just how much pressure was on that group of men he led. They were ravaged in the press.

Believe me it was much more cutting back then, just what they were subjected to. And as captain, Anthony took so much of that personally. 1983's All-Ireland semi-final loss to Galway left a mark on me.

And as the years passed, the younger members of that side, kids really at the time, grew into men. And it was perhaps only then that they realised what they might have left behind. Anthony, Martin McHugh, Joyce McMullin, Charlie Mulgrew and Donal Reid all started that game.

Gary Walsh and Matt Gallagher were amongst the substitutes. So we had our baggage, much of it between our own ears, as we chased the ultimate glory. By 1986, in that elusive pursuit, I'd burned myself out. Tom Conaghan came in and, to his credit, he was a disciplinarian – way ahead of his time. And when I did come back into the fray in 1990, I could see he'd left a mark.

That was one of the reasons in 1992, on our homecoming, I brought Tom up to the stage in Donegal Town. PJ McGowan too and his 1987 All-Ireland winning Under 21s, that victory gave us an injection of real quality.

The final pieces of the jigsaw really. It freshened things up. 1990 and our loss to Meath, just like 1983, was a bitter pill to swallow. But we moved on. 1991 was a difficult season, one where we were swimming against the tide from very early on in.

But 1992, and I've no doubt Anthony will get to it, it was a season where we took a real ownership of our own destiny. Quite simply, the players asked for more. They asked for more from themselves and they asked for more, from us as a management, on the training field.

A button was pushed and it yielded spectacular results. Like I said, to have had Anthony at the helm of all of that was extra special.

Molloy was the bond that held it all together. He was never afraid to ask, push a point or relay someone else's grievance. His weakness, if he had one, was that he put others first every single time.

But it was also what made him such a fantastic leader. I'm so happy he's now finally putting himself first. And I genuinely cannot wait to relive the single greatest moment of my life, all over again, but through Anthony's eyes!