My father died 17 years ago today. He would have been quite happy this morning about the football, and I really miss being able to share that with him (England just qualified to play Italy in the final of the European Championships).
This reminds me of the very last words I heard him say - I was talking with my mother on the phone from Wisconsin to London and he was watching the European Championship final in the front room. At some point he picked up the extension and said, "the Greeks have scored." A while later he picked the phone up again and exclaimed, "the Greeks have won!" He always did have a soft spot for an underdog. And those were the last words I ever heard him say live. It was a Sunday evening, and he died on the following Wednesday.
17 years is just about a generation ago. I am middle-aged and grey. Next month it will be 50 years since the two people in this photo went to see QPR play Millwall at Loftus Road, my first ever football match. I miss him for so many reasons, but today the one taking centre stage is the love for QPR, football and sport that he shared with me. May his memory continue to be a blessing.
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