An Unlikely Friendship
When I heard Sir Patrick Stewart had died, my initial instinct was to absorb the news like everyone else who learned of his death through the media.
I watched clips of his performances, eulogies from an array of famous collaborators and read the rightly valedictory obituaries for a man of spectacular achievement.
It didn’t take long for the grief to hit, however. This was a man I counted as an unlikely friend for 25 years.
Looking through photographs on my phone, I found mementos of great days spent in the company of a man of extraordinary range and an extraordinary voice, a man of strong principles and humanity, who found common ground with me for the simple reason that he enjoyed my amateur scribblings on Huddersfield Town, shared over an email list devoted to a largely unexceptional northern football club.
It should be stated firmly and clearly: Patrick Stewart loved Huddersfield Town, and that devotion never wavered.
Through a mutual friend, who had forwarded him my very early Town match reports, Patrick expressed an interest in meeting me. Entirely coincidentally, my wife, two close friends and I were touring California in the summer of 2002, and a meeting at his home in the hills of Los Angeles was arranged.
It was an extraordinarily exciting prospect for someone totally enthralled by California and its glamour and promise, even if I had never seen a minute of Star Trek: The Next Generation, had little interest in theatre or Shakespeare (despite what could only have been a fluke A-level in English Literature) and was largely indifferent to the whole concept of fame.
That first meeting set the tone.
It was difficult not to be dazzled by a house with a swimming pool, the blue LA skies and the prospect of meeting a world-famous actor. Despite some difficult personal circumstances surrounding that first meeting, he was charm itself to his four visitors from Huddersfield as we politely negotiated the niceties.
Before long, however, Patrick wanted to talk about Town. What was going on at the troubled club (they were about to be plunged into crisis)? He simply couldn’t wait to take me to the room where all his Huddersfield Town memorabilia was displayed.
For all the years we corresponded, socialised and interacted, Huddersfield Town underpinned a relationship which replicated my affinity with all the other people afflicted by that damned football team.
And that was the point. I’m quite proud of my match reports, and the fact that a world-class actor shared my passion for the subject of my writing made the relationship an easy one.
I was about as interested in his acting career (with some exceptions) as he was in my glittering insurance journey. In fact, I didn’t really know who he was until I saw him making a draw at half-time at Roker Park in 1996.
It was fortuitous that my older brother’s company had a box at the stadium, enabling us to host him away from the throng of interest inevitably surrounding him. He most definitely appreciated the sanctuary.
But it was the games away from home which resonate most strongly down the years. A friendly at Rochdale and a pint in The Cemetery with Lisa Stansfield in her local; Dagenham & Redbridge for an ignominious 1-1 draw on a dank Tuesday night; The Valley, where Lee Clark’s increasingly tedious unbeaten run was finally put out of its misery; a walk down to the New Den from his South Bank apartment with no fear in our hearts; and the play-off semi-final defeat at Griffin Park on the way to disintegration.
There were a couple of great highlights watching Town. A weekend in Cardiff for the restorative play-off win over Mansfield, and a night at Stamford Bridge which probably represented the zenith of modern Huddersfield Town as they avoided relegation from the Premier League.
On that night, as we counted down the minutes while seeing out a draw, I told Patrick to look at the clock only every five minutes to make time go faster, a story he repeated when interviewed by ITV the following day, rather thrillingly.
We met and ate at some great restaurants in London, New York and LA over the years, and the conversation revolved around Town for about 80% of the time. A full day at the US Open in 2014 remains one of the best experiences of my life, as Patrick gave me and my wife, Violet, a full introduction to the world of glamour and celebrity, which was fantastic to experience. Once.
I shared some wonderful lunchtimes in the California sunshine with Patrick and our great friend Richard Haigh. Relaxing in the company of two great raconteurs was joyful. Patrick once turned up at The Ivy in Santa Monica wearing his Town shirt and, of course, nobody dared question his dress choice.
An invitation to his 70th birthday party, which my brother and I were fortunate enough to receive, allowed us to witness the respect he had earned through his Chancellorship of the University. His commitment to the Academy at Town was another indication of his affection for the club, coming at a time when it really needed support.
Violet and I, my brother Howard and his family, along with various other friends, enjoyed the natural, relaxed company of a global icon who slipped effortlessly back into his West Yorkshire roots.
We will miss him very much and send our love and condolences to his family, friends and millions of admirers around the world.
Up the Town, Sir Pat.
