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James is seven.  James loves football and wants to be a professional when he grows up.  His parents are already professional as they are grown up.

James started playing football in the playground with his mates, a kick about in the park at the weekend.  James did not only like football, it was his life.  His bedroom wall was adorned with posters of his beloved Tottenham Hotspur.  His hero was Harry Kane.  James wished that he had been called Harry.  He never did like his name.

One Sunday a strange man was watching the boys intently.  The fathers all thought he looked shifty and were wary of his presence.  One threatened to go over and give him a piece of his mind but was calmed down by the others.  All the Dads were uneasy but none more than Chris because Chris realised that the man wasn’t looking at the boys – he was only watching one – and that one was his son James.

At the end of their game the man walked up to the group of boys.  That was it, all the fathers stormed indignantly towards him.  Chris had his heart in his mouth, the man was talking to James.  In an instant the scene changed.  The man grinned widely and reached out his hand for Chris to shake, telling Chris what a talent his son had.  Producing a business card, it was soon revealed that the man who had noticed James’ talent, was a talent scout.  A football talent scout.

The man had seen something in James and James was over the moon.  Chris looked relieved, then proud and then anxious.  Chris did not know what this would involve or what lay ahead.  Chris always knew what lay ahead in business.  He was a professional.

James was selected for the junior youth team.

This means training sessions and matches every Saturday.  It is quite a commitment but one which James undertakes readily.  However, both his parents are very busy – they are professionals.  Chris and Holly alternate collections from training but Holly refuses to attend the Saturday matches, stating that she has not the time, or the inclination to do so; she would be bored silly.

So, Chris goes to matches every Saturday and stands with all the other Dads.  If truth be known, Chris is not really that interested in football and spends most of the time continuing to work on his phone.  He barely watches the matches.  The conversation in the car on the way home is always the same with James enquiring as to what his father thought of the match.  The response was always “Good”.  James asked what his Dad thought about his own performance.  The response was always “Good”.

After a while James stopped asking.

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One weekend Chris had to go to Harrogate for a conference (and several rounds of golf).  Holly still refused to attend the match.  They told James he would have to miss the game.  James’ face showed that he was crestfallen.  Football was his life. 

No matter how busy Chris and Holly were, no matter how professional they were, no parents want to subject their child to pain.

They had to find a solution.

It was James who came up with the solution “Why don’t you ask Grandad”?

James and his grandfather had always been close. They shared a common interest.

One weekend Chris had to go to Harrogate for a conference (and several rounds of golf).  Holly still refused to attend the match.  They told James he would have to miss the game.  James’ face showed that he was crestfallen.  Football was his life. 

No matter how busy Chris and Holly were, no matter how professional they were, no parents want to subject their child to pain.

They had to find a solution.

It was James who came up with the solution “Why don’t you ask Grandad”?

James and his grandfather had always been close. They shared a common interest.

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Tottenham Hotspur.

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Cyril was delighted to be asked and readily accepted.

That Saturday he arrived early, wearing his Spurs scarf and bobble hat.  Chris was embarrassed.

James loved it.

Cyril loved the game, watching every move, pass, shot and save – all the while roaring for James’ team more than all the other men put together.  Maybe James should have been embarrassed, but he was not.  James was proud.  Every time James looked to the side-line, he could see his Grandad cheering him on and the smiles James gave him were always returned.

After that Saturday Cyril took James to every match.  It was a routine that suited everyone.

And routines are what define us.

On the car journey home James and Cyril would analyse the teams, commenting on how well James did or focusing on areas in which he could improve.  For an old man and a young boy, it was an intense conversation.  They were playing on an equal playing field.

After the dissection of the match their conversation was always the same. 

Tottenham Hotspur.

James advocated that Harry Kane was the best player in the history of Spurs.  Cyril disagreed.  He spoke to James about Blanchflower, Ramsey, Chivers, Hoddle, Lineker, Gascoigne and many, many others.  It was a history lesson every week and James soaked up the facts.  However, there was only one player who was really inside the heart of Cyril and this was the player he talked about the most.

Greavsie.

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It was their first match of the season and James was excited.  He could not wait for his Grandad to arrive.  Cyril did not turn up at his usual early time.  The routine was different.  Chris stated that maybe Cyril had forgotten but James would not believe this.  He was adamant that his Grandfather would never let him down.  Then the doorbell went and James rushed to the door to let Cyril in.

All was well.

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Or so it seemed.

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During the match when James looked over to Cyril to see him watching him play, Cyril was just looking down.  His eyes were nowhere near the pitch.  When James smiled at him, he did not get a smile in return.  James could not hear his Grandad’s roar above the other men.

Cyril was silent on the car journey home too.  James started to cry.  James was only eight.  He did not understand why his Grandad did not enjoy football any more.  Football, these matches, these talks with Grandad were his life.

A little boy upset doesn’t think of anyone except himself.  When he asked Grandad for a tissue James suddenly saw that Cyril was applying one to his own face, that he too had tears running down his face.  James forgot his woes.  His only concern was for Grandad.  He had never seen him unhappy before.

“Grandad, what’s wrong”?

Cyril spoke the only three words he had spoken all day.

“Greavsie has died”.

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When James was dropped off, his parents assumed by his melancholy that the team had lost.  Chris tried to offer some comfort.

“Never mind James, the next match will be better”.

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His son replied.

“I would like to be called Jimmy”.

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Jimmy loved his name and loved football, the matches and he loved all the conversations about Spurs that he had with his Grandad.

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Jimmy loved his Grandad.

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Old Young