I knew Max for many years and in varying degrees. When we were really young, we played together and whilst I've always been rubbish at football but I could whip his arse on the NES! Even though our houses are practically opposite one another's, we lost touch as we went off to different schools and I didn't see him for ages. As "grown ups", we knew each other and were matey, but he was a closer friend to my sister.
The turnout at Astons was showed just how much impact Max had upon the area and its people. The range of people was great, and the vibe was too. It's a true testament to his character and spirit that the wake was the buzzing laugh he would have wanted, rather than doom and gloom.
I can see now that he was equally pivotal to people's lives in
The area is a funny place; it gave us a unique childhood which I think most young people can testify to and an affinity within itself which I can't imagine anywhere else in
It's our little idyllic village hidden away in the metropolis – and with the park right at its spiritual heart – only it was Max there with a football instead of cricket on the village green.
The park was clearly Max's stomping ground and nowhere could be more fitting for a tribute to him. Be it birds, beers, blazing or footy, just as he was the epicentre of so many people's lives and friendships, the park provided the backdrop every time.
He was instrumental to the lifeblood of the area and although missed, I can't see how he'd ever be forgotten… as I for one look forward to one day cotching on the Max bench!
Peace,
Cayal (
PS My sister Maya is also devastated to have missed Saturday and to not be able to be with her friends during this time. Cayal
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