Wednesday 25 May 2007

I was woken by the news that Alan Ball had died. Lorri did this in a really special way. Knowing I would get numerous texts with the bad news, she left a little note at the side of the bed breaking the news to me gently.
Why should a 61 year old footballer who had never played for Sunderland have any connection with me? Easy really, I worked with Alan last May in Coventry. I was initially giddy that I'd be working with a World Cup winner but beyond the squeaky voice and the fact that he was an amazing player my feelings towards him were ambivalent to say the least.

He was amazing. he sat next to me regaling me with stories and anecdotes, taking a real interest in my work. He had the unerring habit of nudging me arm to emphasise his point. That gesture has been known ever since in our household as "doing an Alan Ball" His speech was terrific! the passion he showed shone through, he said that the passion and pride in the shirt should be the same for any shirt, be it an England shirt or your local park team. He was so enthusiastic about the game that had, after all kicked him in the teeth a few times. He mentioned how he'd lost his wife, Lesley to cancer only months previously and he swelled with pride when he talked about his family, much more than it did when he talked about winning the World Cup for England. By the end of his talk we all would have ran through a brick wall for him, he was that sort of person.

Lorri was there that night, she very rarely comes to dinners, she sat at the back and like all of us in that audience she was mesmerised. He listened and laughed to my act and stayed behind until every last autograph was given and every last photograph was taken. I'd like to think he's up there nudging St. Peter's elbow, telling him stories while waiting to see his beloved Lesley again.
FTM!