Wednesday 28 March 2018

James: Missing you


We'd just finished cycling around Ireland and James had a plan. Take the pictures, collect our medals, two bottles, a slice of pizza and straight back to mine to shower. Class. One tiny setback, the great man had forgotten to pack a pair of boxers. Thankfully I'm not shy when it comes to sharing my underwear but I was slightly taken aback when James was less than impressed with the pair offered up. I'd picked them especially, definitely in my top 5. He wore them under duress.
Too baggy, too loose, too long... too blue as well probably, but I had given up entertaining his rant as we wandered gleefully back to our gang of proud cyclists. We happily chipped away at each other for the night. Him wondering if my grandad had picked them and me reminding him his fashion sense may have taken a hit but his sensitive cheeks were in a better place.

James was always correct, literally, he was always right. And so, I knew I needed new boxers. After that night I promised myself I'd phase out my tattered loin cloths in favour of something more fashion forward. You couldn't go wrong with the old pair though, they couldn't go on backwards because of the almightly draft you'd experience on your posterior. Nor inside out, as the button would wander inside and closing the fly was a nightmare.

Two years down the line and I am now the proud owner of all sorts of Calvin Klein, Lee Cooper and one or two Penney's numbers. Everytime I look down and realise I have had my boxers on inside out or back to front, all day, I think of James and smile. I needed to move on, but boy am I struggling.

I loved seeing James let loose. There was no better sight, most memorably on a football field. He was a human metronome, he kept us ticking with his 100% pass completion rate. Myself and Ferdia would stand on the sideline and compare him to Xavi and Iniesta, nothing went astray. He tracked back, he created space, he gave the ball to others in need of glory and covered their mistakes when their plans went array. He was a pleasure to play with.

Watching James score a goal was a thing of beauty, but the beauty wasn't in the goal itself. It came slightly later. He'd take up an ideal position, call for the ball until his wish was granted, with one touch he'd kill it perfectly before striking neatly into the back of the net. One for the purists.

What happens next, will stay with me. He'd wheel away and bashfully accept the praise while setting himself for kick off. Just as everyone had returned their concentration to the game he'd fire out the most perfect fist pump. Fist starting low at the hip and driving upwards towards his chest. Once I knew it existed I always looked out for it and I'm so happy I did.

"That's the job Lundy!"

I was upset for months after he stopped playing our Wednesday game in favour of running. Partially because Ferdia doesn't pass as much as James would but mostly because I loved sharing in his joy.

He seemed to think I had a burning desire to run. I'd wander through the office and he'd catch my eye, wink and beckon me towards him with his head. Like a puppy I'd wander over trying not to smile, knowing he had something up his sleeve.

He'd mention a marathon and half a dozen half marathons he was doing in preparation. "C'mon Philly, sign up. I'll pick you up in the morning, we'll head down, run the race, we'll get some lunch in (insert researched lunch destination) and we'll have a great chat!" I'd tell him I hadn't done any training and he'd tell me it'd be grand... and it was.
I'd hop into the car, he'd pretend to be annoyed because I was two minutes late, keep up the facade for a while before he'd burst into laughter, cracking himself up.

"Anyway, what do you want to listen to? I have Bruce Springsteen (insert album title) or Bruce Springsteen (insert album title)." I'd ask if the radio was working, he'd say no, I'd say I was happy to sit in silence and he'd put on Bruce. A couple of minutes of Bruce and banter later I would ask, "Is this the album with Ring of Fire or American Pie? Think they are the only Bruce songs I know."

At Clontarf and Bohermeen I made him wait but the hug at the finish line made the pain of
the last hour and fifty minutes fade away.

I used to love giving James a hug. Hugging another male colleague in the office in front of all his team was not his idea of a comfortable situation so I made sure I did it as often as possible. "On your feet!" or "Please be upstanding!" were my favourite orders before grabbing him and holding him way too long. It was especially rewarding in front of one of his new starters.

On Sunday, I took James's entry and ran the Wicklow Gaol Half Marathon. I've cycled through Wicklow plenty of times but for some reason I never thought the half marathon would be full of hills. When he listed the half marathons he wanted me to do he would always start with the flat ones. He mentioned the Wicklow one and I asked if it had hills, he said one or two and I politely declined to take part... "But you'll do the Clontarf one Philly, yeah?"

Two things stand out from Sunday... Puff Daddy and crossing the finish line.

Let's start at the end. The race finishes with a 2km downhill before you turn a corner and you're faced with a 300m uphill climb. I love to sprint the end of a race, just empty the tank and deal with the consequences later. I was doing fine for the first 150m but I was fading fast, the tank was nearing empty.

"Come on Lundy, give me something here!" I roared. Suddenly, it was as if his hand was on my back driving me forward and I flew up the hill. I reached the brow with a smile on my face and crossed the line, instantly reaching around to feel for his hand still on my back. If our traditional finish line hug is replaced with his presence driving me on, it'll have to do. 

Obviously there was only gonna be one playlist that would get me through 21km of Wicklow countryside... All Out 90's! With 13km out of the way Billie Piper, Natalie Imbruglia, B*Witched and many other "artists" had given me their all but I was beginning to fade.

Then I heard it, Puff Daddy and Faith Evans, "Missing You".

"Memories give me the strength I need to proceed, strength I need to believe"

Our chat before I decided to go back to Hays.

Dropping over a white shirt before a wedding because I'd been moaning about having to buy one.

Calling over to mine for a cup of tea that I let you make because I was too hungover to get off the couch.

Our breakfasts in Hobart's avoiding the brunch crowd.

Listening to you tell me about your family... Mam, Dad, Jacqueline, Clare, Edward, Jason, the boys, Samir, Paul, Danielle... I can hear you now "Well as I said to ..."
Wearing matching braces and dickie bow for the Christmas party.

Getting up at 7.30 on a Sunday morning to make breakfast for myself and Pippa for the Aussie Open final because you had Eurosport.

That random day drinking with myself, yourself and Darren.

Being Cookie Monsters with Mike.

Memories, that's the job Lundy!



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