Football was never only about winning to him. He applauded brilliant plays from the opposing team, picked up litter before leaving local matches, and never booed an injured player.
Whenever I complained that he was being too generous, he’d tap the side of his nose.
« A real fan leaves the game better than he found it, sweetheart. »
He wrote another sentence inside every birthday card he ever gave me.
Never stop believing until the final whistle.
« A real fan leaves the game better than he found it, sweetheart. »
This spring, Grandpa turned 92.
His heart had weakened. He needed a cane inside the house and a wheelchair for longer distances. Climbing six steps left him breathing hard enough to frighten me.
After one appointment, his doctor asked me to stay behind.
« He is doing well for his age, » she said carefully. « But if there is somewhere important he wants to go, I wouldn’t postpone it. »
