The Max O'Connell Cup 4th July 2009: Results

To paraphrase Leon Nelson, The Max of the Day player of the tournament, we'd all rather not be here, but we are, and it's the most fitting way to remember Max I think there is.

The fourth Max O'Connell Cup was another great occasion for the Max community who came to play or watch football and see old friends.

This year there were a few more babies and a few more new faces in amongst the regulars. The sun again shone down on this bitter-sweet occasion that mark's another years passing without Max.

West Hampstead deservedly won (4th year in a row!), but not before being pushed right to the limit in the thrilling 3-3 semi-final where an own goal helped them come back from 3-1 down in the second half. Once they drew level a single goal in the penalty shoot out was enough to get them to the final: a shoot out noted for containing 5 spectacular saves between the two keepers before the ice-cold winning penalty from Leon.

Queens Park had a shaky group stage and got the better of one penalty shoot out to get to the quarters before luck deserted them and they went out to Scott Nelmes (Salusbury Old Boys) in their second penalty confrontation despite a much improved display.

Scott Nelmes had a fantastic debut tournament making it all the way to the final before the heat and injuries meant they had little left for the final against the fittest team in the tournament. Newcastle finally lived up to their billing as contenders making it the semis before their lack of a single substitute was exposed and fatigue got the better of an otherwise strong outfit.

The groups proved testing and rewarding for the rest of us almost as much as the the cold beers, home cooked pizza and endless supply of fruit. It was a measure of the quality of this tournament that every team except The Brass Nanans got at least one win - The Brass Nanas however can claim for Goal of the Tournament from Callum.

A special thanks to Louis who's organisational skills meant the day ran as smoothly as it did, to the rest of Queens Park for chipping in, to the mums and parents for supplying such stellar catering (especially those cold beers - Max really would be proud of that), to Remel for running the bar, to Dave Ferguson for another T-shirt that doesn't let anyone forget that Max used to be called "Ducky", and to everyone else who came and played and watched and continues to help keep Max's spirit close.

There are a few photos below but if you have any more please post them or check out Facebook - Leon Nelson has a great set of pictures, and captions, that tell the story.

See you next year.

The Kite

Max was a friend of John and Mary McCormack’s sons, John, Mike, and Jamie. John wrote this poem for Max, and Mary has asked me to post it. It is included in John's selected poems, ‘The Trouble with Creation’, published in 2009.


The Kite (For Max)

A boy is like a kite,
bound yet free
and if the wind holds
there is mastery.

Sometimes it will obey
the tug of will against air,
yet a wayward gust may
take it away
anywhere in this sky.

The clouds can hide so much,
yet somewhere a kite is flying
free and wild as a
reckless friendly child.

John McCormack
2006

The Max O'Connell Cup 4th July 2009

Hello all,

This Saturday is the 4th Max O'Connell Cup at the Linford Christie Stadium. You can see last year's blog lower down the page for directions. 

You can check out your groups and who you are playing below! There are 15 teams this year, making it the biggest tournament by far.

Games are kicking off at 12.00 noon so try and get there in good time. It's £40 per team to be collected and sorted by the Captains before kick off so we have a good day of football ahead of us.

For those coming to support and those who make an early exit the parents are again very kindly providing some food and drink (but you can always bring more!)

We'd like to thank everyone in advance for still making the effort and wanting to be involved, it means a lot to us and it's good to see it means the same to so many of you.

The weather is looking good, let's play in the spirit that Max would have wanted and we'll see you there.

Queens Park 

-------------------

Teams		Rules
1.Queens Park		Can't pass straight back to goalie
2.West Hampstead		Goalie can't come out of area
3.Newcastle		No slidetackling
4.John McCormack		Only headers and volleys can be scored  in the area
5.John McKinney
6.Sam Greene
7.Natty
8.Dom/Rob
9.Nile
10.Dave Stars
11.Scott Nelmes
12.Big Chin
Groups
Group A		Group B		Group C
West Hampstead		Dave Stars		Scott Nelmes
Queens Park		Newcastle		John McKinney
Sam Greene		Dom/Rob		Big Chin
Nile		Natty		John McCormack

Group A			Ref.
West Hampstead	vs.	Queens Park	Sam Greene
Sam Greene	vs.	Nile	Queens Park
West Hampstead	vs.	Sam Greene	Nile
Queens Park	vs.	Nile	West Hampstead
West Hampstead	vs.	Nile	Sam Greene
Queens Park	vs.	Sam Greene	Nile

Group B			Ref.
Dave Stars	vs.	Newcastle	Dom/Rob
Dom/Rob	vs.	Natty	Newcastle
Dave Stars	vs.	Dom/Rob	Natty
Newcastle	vs.	Natty	Dave Stars
Dave Stars	vs.	Natty	Dom/Rob
Newcastle	vs.	Dom/Rob	Natty

Group C			Ref.
Scott Nelmes	vs.	John McKinney	Big Chin
Big Chin	vs.	John McCormack	John McKinney
Scott Nelmes	vs.	Big Chin	John McCormack
John McKinney	vs.	John McCormack	Scott Nelmes
Scott Nelmes	vs.	John McCormack	Big Chin
John McKinney	vs.	Big Chin	John McCormack

Poem read for Max on 26 February 2009

We had a gathering of friends and families at our house on the anniversary of Max's death. I read a poem, and I have been asked to put it on the blog.

Rachel had asked us to read this poem. This year she was in New York for the anniversary, continuing with her studies, but she was keen for us to read the poem. It is one she knew Max had liked, from an anthology called Poets of the Nicaraguan Revolution. It contains poems in Spanish with English translations.

I used Max's well-thumbed copy of the book, in which the poem has been annotated by him (and in pen - I used tell him off for that), and I read the English translation.

So here it is - Spanish first, then the English translation.

Seamus


ERNESTO CARDENAL

EN LA TUMBA DEL GUERRILLERO

Pienso en tu cuerpo que se ha ido desbaratando
bajo la tierra
haciéndose suave tierra, humus otra vez
junto con el humus de todos los demás humanos
que han existido y existirán en la bolita mundo
haciéndonos todos juncos tierra fértil del planeta Tierra.
Y cuando los cosmonautas miren esta bola azul y rosa
en la noche negra
lo que estarán mirando, lejos, es tu luminosa tumba
(tu tumba y la de todos)
y cuando los extraterrestres desde alguna parte
miren este punto de luz de la Tierra
estarán mirando tu tumba.
Y un día será todo tumba, silenciosa tumba,
y ya no habrá más seres vivos en el planeta
compañero.
¿Y después?
Después nos desbarataremos más, volaremos,
átomos en el cosmos.
Y tal vez la materia es eterna hermano
sin principio ni fin o tiene un fin
y recomienza cada vez.
Tu amor sí tuvo un comienzo pero no tiene final.
Y tus átomos que estuvieron en el suelo de Nicaragua,
tus átomos amorosos, que dieron la vida por amor,
ya verás, serán luz,
me imagino tus partículas en la vastedad cosmos
como pancartas, como afiches vivos.
No sé si me explico.
Lo que sé es que nunca se olvidará tu nombre
y para siempre se gritará: ¡Presente!


THE GUERRILLA'S TOMB

I think of your body that has been rotting
underground
becoming good earth, humus again
together with the humus of all the other humans
who have existed and will exist in the ball of the earth
all becoming fertile earth of the planet Earth.
And when the cosmonauts look at this blue and pink ball
in the black night
what they will be seeing, far off, is your luminous tomb
(your tomb and everybody's)
and when extraterrestrials from somewhere
see this point of light that is Earth
they will be looking at your tomb.
And one day it will be all tomb, a silent tomb
and there will no longer be living beings on the planet
comrade.
And then?
When we have disintegrated further, we shall fly,
as atoms in the cosmos.
And perhaps matter is eternal brother
without beginning or end or it ends
and keeps beginning again.
Yes, your love did have a beginning but it has no end.
And your atoms which were in the soil of Nicaragua,
your loving atoms, that gave their life for love,
you'll see, they will be light.
I imagine your particles in the vastness of the cosmos
like placards, like living posters.
I don't know if I am explaining myself.
What I do know is that your name
will never be forgotten
and for evermore you will be acclaimed: Presente!

From Poets of the Nicaraguan Revolution
Translated by Dinah Livingstone
Katabasis, 1993

Max's second tree

On Wednesday 3 December 2008 we planted a second tree for Max. The first one had never looked completely healthy. There were always a few branches that did not have any leaves, were in fact dead, and over two years this showed no improvement. It was very upsetting for us that Max's memorial was a damaged tree, and we told the Queen's Park managers that we would like to buy a new one.

The park managers were very sympathetic and helpful. They offered to buy the new tree, and arranged for two park keepers to drive us to a tree nursery where a specialist looked at trees with us and advised on the choice. The park then organised the transport of the tree to Queen's Park and on 3 December the tree was planted, with a few of us looking on.

The New tree is a Maple Autumn Blaze - the foliage goes a bright red in the autumn. So far it seems to be thriving and is now in leaf.

Some pictures of the tree being planted.

Victoria

4th October at the Irish

On 4th October Max would have been, should have been, celebrating his 26th birthday.

As many of you will remember, he always celebrated these occasions with much gusto. Perhaps he would have celebrated this birthday at the Irish, who can say.

The usual room has been booked there from 8pm on Saturday 4 October and it would be lovely if as many of you as possible could join us to remember him.

For the few who may not know the Irish, the new name is The Corrib Rest, Salusbury Road, London NW6.

Best wishes,
Victoria and Seamus

Football Tournament

The third Max O'Connell Football Tournament took place on Saturday 12 July at the Lynford Christie Sports Stadium. It was organised mainly by Louis Russell, who was unable to play owing to injury, and who instead spent a great deal of time and effort making sure everything ran in a smooth and trouble-free manner. Which it did, so congratulations to Louis.

I think there might have been more teams than last year; there certainly seemed to be a lot of people around, mainly players but spectators as well. Some of the Queen's Park parents provided food again, and Remel, Louis's nephew, organised the refreshments tent in a very cool and efficient manner.

Once again the Cup was won by the West Hampstead All Stars, who beat the Older Lot (maybe not their official title but the one I always hear them called) by 2 goals to 1. It was an exciting final, but in the end the West Hampstead team again seemed that much fresher and faster. The Max of the Day award went to Adam Newton, one of the winning side.

I find it hard to believe that there have now been three tournaments since Max died. For us it is a bitter-sweet occasion, so sad that it should be taking place at all, but also such a pleasure that so many of his friends want to remember him in this way. It is surely the most fitting celebration of his life. We would like to thank the organisers, and all those who took part and made the Tournament an exciting and enjoyable, if exhausting, day.

The winners - West Hampstead All Stars


Max used to be No 10
David's T shirt




The Queen's Park team shirt


Please feel free to add more photos.

Victoria

Max O'Connell Cup Note

Hi all,

I'm sad that I won't be able to attend this year's football celebration.

I've wanted to type something on this blog for a while but I haven't been able to find the right words.

I've lived in the States for 5 years, and I simply can't think of football, or home, without thinking of Max and the Queen's Park crew. There's something really special about the community we all formed there, parents and kids... and there's nothing like kicking a ball about with you guys. Have a great day tomorrow!

I wanna take this chance to pay homage to the Paddington Boys (1996-7?) football team, of which Max was a member. I'm now being paid to do something that I would gladly do for free, coach football. But my career and practical education started with you guys. I learned alot with you and every success, every victory is yours.

A big hug to all of Max's loved ones.

Have a great summer!

Pedro.

Max O'Connell Cup 2008

Hello all, 

the Max O'Connell Cup will be held on Saturday 12th July this year at the Linford Christie Stadium. Same as last year for all those that came along, for those that didn't it is next to Wormwood Scrubs with the entrance and car park down Artillery Lane, off Du Cane Road.

Click here for directions

At the moment it looks like we've got twelve teams which will mean three groups of four. It is six-a-side and will cost £35 per team. We hoping to kick off at noon so we should all aim to meet there at around elevenish. Depending how it all goes it should run until six. My number is 07947449854 if anyone wants to put a team in or needs directions.

There will be food and drinks for those who want to come and watch, but all help would of course be much appreciated.

Look forward to seeing you all there...

Louis

Remembering Max

On the evening of 26 February a group of us met together to remember Max, and also of course to catch up with one another's lives, and to wonder what Max might have been doing now, had he lived. We lit twenty-three candles, one for each year of his life, and Peter Cutts, Owen's father, read a poem by Brian Patten which seemed to express so well our thoughts about loss and remembrance.


So Many Different Lengths of Time

Cuanto vive el hombre por fin? Vive mil dias o uno solo?
Una semana o varios siglos? Por cuanto tiempo muere el hombre?
Que quiere decir 'para siempre'?
Preocupado per este asunto me dedique a aclarar las cosas.

— PABLO NERUDA

How long is a man's life, finally?
Is it a thousand days, or only one?
One week, or a few centuries?
How long does a man's death last?
And what do we mean when we say, 'gone forever'?

Adrift in such preoccupations, we seek clarification.
We can go to the philosophers
but they will grow tired of our questions.
We can go to the priests and the rabbis
but they might be too busy with administrations.

* * *

So, how long does a man live, finally?
And how much does he live while he lives?
We fret, and ask so many questions —
then when it comes to us
the answer is so simple.

A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,
for as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,
for as long as we ourselves live,
holding memories in common, a man lives.

His lover will carry his man's scent, his touch;
his children will carry the weight of his love.
One friend will carry his arguments,
another will hum his favourite tunes,
another will still share his terrors.

And the days will pass with baffled faces,
then the weeks, then the months,
then there will be a day when no question is asked,
and the knots of grief will loosen in the stomach,
and the puffed faces will calm.
And on that day he will not have ceased,
but will have ceased to be separated by death.
How long does a man live, finally?

A man lives so many different lengths of time.

BRIAN PATTEN (1946-)

Max supported Spurs

Max in a Spurs top with a suitable expression on his face.

Requested by Owain Thomas, Little O.


Was taken when on holiday in Spain with Dash. Might have been the year of an earlier Spurs success.

Two years on

For the past week or so I’ve found my self thinking about Max a lot as the 2 year anniversary of that terrible night in Cadiz approached. Not so much with sad thoughts as it was at this time a year ago, but memories that make me smile and laugh and also to a growing extent, thoughts of what life would be like if Max were still here with us. I usually imagine him living nearby in Newcastle. I imagine how much he would have enjoyed the flat that I live in for two main reasons. Firstly, we have all the sports channels and four fanatical football watchers. I think he would have enjoyed taking part in some of the heated football debates and the ‘who’s the best’ conversations that regularly emerge. And secondly, we have a long living room that is filled with balls of all types, and we often just kick a football up and down the living room. I remember a bunch of footballing lessons that Max taught me in Cadiz, sometimes on a pitch but more often than not in our spacious, cockroach infested kitchen (using a volleyball as a stand-in for a real football) so I think he would have relished the chance to ‘teach us’ (aka show off) his football skills. Another thing which has brought Max to the forefront of my mind was the Carling Cup football on Sunday. Such a fitting tribute to Max that his team has won the cup on that Sunday which marked the two years.

I have also just been to visit Max’s tree in the Newcastle Uni campus. It is nice to see that it is standing up, tall and strong, to all the things that life has to throw at it (most prominent of which is the ridiculous amount of wind around Newcastle today). I’m very pleased to see how symbolic the tree has become, not only in reflecting Max’s personality and physique but also showing how it is possible to stand up tall and strong even in difficult times such as this. Also, there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers at the foot of the tree from Max’s family. As always, my thoughts and most sincere sympathy is with you and with all of Max’s friends.

And finally, a message to Max. We all miss you, mate. The two years that have passed have possibly dulled some of the pain I felt but the joyful memories live on and will continue to live on inside me while I still draw breath. I hope you’re up there right now teaching everyone you meet the wonders and joys of attacking football in the enthusiastic and infectious manner that only you can pull off. Thanks for being there and making the short time I knew you such a fantastic time. Take care, Max.

Gary

A Sonnet: To an Absent Friend

Your death I know will haunt me till I die
Some days I wake, it's a sad morning song
Some nights it is my lonely lullaby
It's always there whispering 'You are gone'.

It is a station for my train of thought
No matter what bright lights guide my journey,
No matter what passengers I have brought,
It's always a destination for me.

Sometimes I want to lose control and scream.
I want to punch slap scratch kick hit someone,
To hurt them so my pain the less will seem,
But your death will still be there when I'm done.

So live with your death is all I can do,
Live and learn... and laugh... and love... without You.





Pictures of Max on Christmas Eve 2005.

Max's tree - flowers

Victoria, Rachel, and I walked past Max's tree in Queen's Park on Christmas Day. We found this posy of dry winter flowers tucked up against its foot.



Love and best wishes for the New Year to all Max's friends,
Seamus

Memorial

On 4 October Max would have been twenty-five had he not died so desperately prematurely. As his birthday approaches I am filled again with disbelief that such a vital personality could have come to an end in such a sudden and shocking manner.

On his twenty-fourth birthday, the first after his death, we were given a memorial in stone made by the sculptor Emily Young, Louis Russell's aunt. Max had visited her studio and was remembered there.

It is an onyx disk, about 60 cm in diameter. I have tried to photograph it many times to put it on the blog, but it changes so much with the light that it has seemed impossible to catch it in any real way. However, below are two of the better attempts. It stands in front of the window in Max's room, the window from which he kept an eye on the street and through which he used to climb when he had forgotten his key. Sometimes the disk is completely opaque. At other times, when the sun shines through, it is almost translucent, and on a sunny windy day the shapes within the stone move and glow.

The carving on the disk is short and simple but tells a story: "Max - son, brother, friend, lover".

On the base is a poem by Raymond Carver:

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

We are so grateful to Emily, to the other people in her studio, and to Frank Russell, who all worked together to create this beautiful memorial.

Victoria

Max O'Connell Cup

Well the Max O'Connell cup was held on August 4 - nearly two months ago - and it was a beautiful, moving, sad, happy, tiring event. It was a beautiful day - not a cloud in the sky - and i think that over 100 people probably turned up. There were 10 teams (just about) with about 8 players each, lots of parents, kids, spectators and others that made the day a great tribute to Max and to football. It was won in the end by the Davestars (again!), defeating Queens Park in a tight 1-0 final.

This was my first Max Cup and I just want to thank Lou and Dash for doing most of the organising like a proper FA representative. Max, who was for some reason obsessed with making mini league tables on scraps of paper, whether it was for FIFA competitions, card games, footie competitions, or any kind of rota that probably didn't need a table, would have been proud, and jealous. I myself was amazed at how well it turned out. And it was good to see so many people and that in the end is always what makes these events as heartbreaking as they are overwhelming. I can't get over the fact that the very thing Max would have done anything to create when he was here is the one thing we can organise now he's gone. But that is why it is so important to continue to have these days and it doesn't seem like there is any danger of them disappearing.

I was reading a post by Rads that he put up right back when this blog was created. It was about making a super team with the older lot that would eventually be able to work our way up and get to play in the the FA cup...Well it's not quite the same but for me, winning the Max O'Connell Cup is the first achievement that needs to be done! See you all next year...

Ize

4 October - Max's Birthday (5 October - in the Irish)

It is Max's birthday this Thursday, 4th October. To remember and celebrate him we will be having drinks at the Irish Center on Salusbury Rd on Friday 5th October. We have the Oyster Bar booked from 8.00pm (the little bar with the pool table in it), and as always it would be great to see anyone and everyone who knew him.

This time last year me and the boys were just returning from our trip to America. Lots of people went to Max's for dinner and Emily (Louis's aunt) unveiled the beautiful onyx disc that has taken up residence at Max's house.

Even if you can only make it for a few minutes it is always a great tribute to Max and everyone appreciates the thought and effort that you put in to saying hello.

See you on Friday.

The boys, Rose and Jo

Football tournament

On Saturday 4 August the second Max O'Connell Football Tournament took place at the Linford Christie Stadium. It was like the first day of summer after what seemed like weeks of unending rain. Suddenly the temperature soared and everyone was reaching for the suntan lotion.

When we, that is the parents, arrived with a variety of food: fruit, pizza, baguettes, cucumber sandwiches, and drinks which were never enough, we found that play was well underway.There seemed to be so many young men milling around that I found it hard to understand how it could get organized, but it did.Teams came on and off and referees appeared from somewhere and it went like clockwork.

Play continued throughout the afternoon ending with a hard and close fought final between Queen's Park and The West Hampstead All Stars. The All Stars won by 1 nil so holding on to the cup for another year. I cannot really comment on the standard of the football, but I can comment on the good spirit in which it was played and which made it such a great day. Max would have loved it.

So congratulations to the organizers, Queen's Park, and to the winners, and thanks to the parents for the food and support.

My photos were not very good but if anyone has some we could put on the blog please send them to Seamus. There's a picture of the winners below.

Victoria

Car Park at Linford Christie Stadium

Parking at the Linford Christie Stadium is not that simple.

You have to go along Du Cane Road and turn off up Artillery Lane, between the hospital and the prison. It's easy to miss. It's got a pillar box about ten yards from the main road. Keep straight ahead and go under a 2.0m/6'6" height barrier. Go up to the end and turn right. The stadium is then in front of you. It's a pay-and-display car park, but free at the weekend.

It's also possible to drive up to the stadium from Scrubs Lane, but I think the general public is not supposed to go this way. Turn off Scrubs Lane up Woodman's Mews, which is nearly opposite North Pole Road - it's about 100 yards north, towards Harlesden. There's a gate which the stadium attendant said was controlled by a phone link to the prison, but it was open when we drove up. When you get to some tall metal gates turn right. Follow the road round and you get to the stadium. There are a few places where you can park.

See you on Saturday, Seamus

Directions to Max O'Connell Cup venue

Here is a link for directions to the Linford Christie sports complex which is where Saturday's tournament will take place!

The first games will kick off at 12 noon, so if playing, please be there by 11.30am. Teams that are entering will need £35 entry fee to be paid at the beginning of the tournament.

We are hoping to provide as much food and drink as possible...but please bring pic nic materials (blankets, food, drink) if you are planing on coming to support or watch, any help is greatly appreciated!

See you Saturday!!!

Click here for directions

From Little O

Dear Max,

I’m feeling a wee bit nervous. It’s the Cup next week, and I’m getting that wobbly feeling in my legs again. Believe me, mate: it’s not a skill I’m perfecting.

I remember the way you used to play; floppy boned and agile, padding over the ball catlike with those Sunny Delight-sponsored Mizunos. Velcrofoot was not an exaggeration. I remember you rising for balls, and using that extra inch and lash of curls to lift or crush a team in an instant. Or dusting yourself off mildly annoyed when the opposition turned to frustrated ankle kicks in order to stop the rampage. But that just fired you up to dubs them even harder next time round, didn’t it? Would they taste the nutmeg? Be dummified by a shoulder drop? Outpaced on the straight? Nobody knew what was in store, but it was normally all three when I was on the receiving end. Though I seriously doubt there’s anyone who hasn’t been touched by this trinity at some point. And as we can all remember, it was distinctly more painful than returned kick up the arse.

But let’s not give you a big head to go with that statuesque Roman nose, now, because it wasn’t just you who could do stuff like that, if we’re honest. But you were definitely the only one who could make it look like they were drunk-in-charge-of-a-football. A cunning device that foxed almost all ball-kicking park life, by giving off the appearance that you were stumbling around the pitch a bit tipsy; a drunken master ploughing through lunging tackles (not to mention freaked out families on picnic blankets) with a Mitre firmly stuck to your toe⎯what an image! They say brilliance is always in bed with madness, my boy, and that will be visual proof in my mind forever.

To me, it seemed like your skills were a complete (and often envy inducing) expression of your natural character, played out with as much endless energy as everything else in your life. Don’t get me wrong, mate; I’m not calling you a park pisshead with superior ball control, I just believe that clever, passionate and flowing football⎯the kind that us boys have continued to play throughout the years⎯will always be a true reflection of our personalities. And yeah, I still run through life (and across the wings) like a headless chicken.

So with that in mind, I continue to miss your honesty, excitability, quick thinking, passion, mock stupidity, perseverance, awareness, cool and loud mouth shouting: “Yesss O!”s, on and off the pitch, and really, truly wish that you were still playing around on both. But you know, as much as I do, Max, that all the boys share that double life now and will continue to keep each one as tight and enjoyable as we can until we take up gardening. And even though there’ll be a few tough teams on the park next Saturday (giving me more than enough reason to be crapping myself silly right now) it’s your alter ego, Monsieur Velcrofoot, that will set the standard at kick off, and that will always be the hardest thing to beat.

Cheers for the skills, Max!

Little O
(Owain)

Hampstead School Celebration Evening

On Thursday 12 July we went to the first ever Hampstead School Celebration Evening, at which the first Max O'Connell Award for Excellence and Improvement in Languages was awarded. The school was very much smarter than in our day, with an imposing new entrance hall, a great improvement. The dress code for the evening was smart, and just about everyone had made an effort, and there was a friendly and expectant atmosphere. There were awards for improvement and excellence in all subjects and activities. Many of the awards were for sport - lots of sports are now played at the school, including cricket and rugby (gosh!).

Introducing the Max O'Connell award, Ms Smith, Head of the Sixth Form, spoke about Max with warmth and humour. Although it is six years since he left she remembered him clearly and her descriptions of him and his way of being in the school caught him well. It was very moving to see the award presented to Finn Marr-Heenan, and he seemed very pleased to have won it, and the first one at that. We spoke to him afterwards and found that he did in fact know something of Max through mutual family friends.

It was also good to learn that the money contributed Max O'Connell Ski Trip Fund was used to help seven students to go on the school's Ski Trip, some of them for the first time.

Victoria

Max O'Connell Cup 2007

The Max O'Connell Cup will be held on Saturday the 4th of August from 12 to 5pm. It will be taking place at the Linford Christie sports complex, off Du Cane Road next to Wormwood Scrubs Hospital (will post a map nearer the time).

There will be ten teams,knock out tournament with prizes; if there is anyone who would really like to enter a team please let us know as soon as possible (contact Dash at dashlilley@hotmail.com).

There will be food and drinks
The more support the better, so please come and join us for what should be a great day.

Max's Graduation, from Victoria

Max's Graduation day was for us a proud occasion, but inevitably also a sad one. While it was a pleasure to see so many happy successful young people for whom this ceremony marked a transition to the next phase of their lives, it is so sad that for Max there is only a future unexplored, a promise unfulfilled. Despite this sadness we are very pleased that we came.

We were very moved by the applause of Max's fellow students as Rachel accepted his degree on his behalf, and touched that they dedicated their Yearbook to him. We wish them all well with whatever life brings them.

As ever, the university staff made things as easy for us as possible. We are so grateful to them for all the kindness and sensitivity they have shown us since Max's death, and for the way in which his memory is being kept alive within the University, with the Year Abroad Essay Prize and the tree dedicated to him outside the Language School.

In her address to the graduates Prof. Ella Ritchie reminded us that since Max died there had been two other deaths in the department, another student in December, then Dr Vanessa Knights in March. Dr Knights knew Max and spoke at his memorial event - she was such a lively and impressive person. We can only hope that next year will be a happier one for the department.

With very best wishes, Victoria

Max's graduation

On Tuesday 10 July, Max was awarded a posthumous degree at Newcastle University. As his tutor, I was there at the ceremony to see his sister Rachel accept the degree on his behalf, while his parents watched.

Over a hundred students were awarded their degree at that ceremony, but Max received the longest round of applause. I think everybody found this a moving moment - pleasure in recognising Max's achievements, sorrow that he did not live to do more and fufil his potential. Ourselves the staff at Newcastle found it an emotional moment, and I myself had tears in my eyes as I applauded him and his family. Those tears reappeared later on when I went back to the School Office after the ceremony and saw the yearbook of the graduating students - dedicated to Max's memory. I was pleased for him but also pleased that our students valued him so much and took time to remember him.

Max's memory lives on in the Max O'Connell prize set up by his family for students who write the most interesting piece on their Year Abroad. But we the staff still remember him with much fondness.

Ann Davies

Dr. Ann Davies
Lecturer in Spanish
Degree Programme Director, T900 Modern Languages
Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American Studies
School of Modern Languages
Old Library
Newcastle University
Newcastle NE1 7RU
Tel: 0191 222 7476
Fax: 0191 222 5442

A bit more of Max

I haven't written on Max's blog for a long time. That's because most of the time I cannot think of anything to say. But I recently received an email from my friend Antonia in Australia and she sent me this photo which I'd not seen before. It makes me smile to see or hear new things about Max. This is what she wrote with the picture:

"ive got a pic for you i wanted to put it on maxs page but i didnt know what to write i didnt want to seem like an idiot that knew max from the begining. It was when i went to school with you that week i still slightly remember it. I miss him it makes me sad just writing this!! But he is loved everyday by sooo many people. He is beautiful so hopefully you can put the pic on the site from me!!"

I like this photo because usually Max is the one kissing people in photos, whereas this time he's the one being kissed and his expression is kind of ambiguous. As well as getting Antonia's photo, I had a dream about Max on Tuesday night:

He was there, in a shopping centre, or some indoor, brightly lit, large place. I ran down an escalator to meet him.

He looked younger than he last was. His hair was short, how he used to have it in school, and he was wearing that big black felt coat he had. He was with a friend, a shorter guy, I don't know who.

He asked me how I was - "ok, you know, this and that" - I told him some stuff.

I hugged him and he squeezed me so tightly. I opened my eyes and could just peep over his shoulder and there was someone there, watching, so I closed my eyes again and immersed myself in Max.

I told him I love him so so much and he said I love you too.

And he was all cheerful but I was incredibly sad because I knew that he was going to be dead but I didn't want to show it. I didn't want him to know that I was sad, I just wanted to enjoy being with him.

Then he made a joke about stillettoes and I pointed out that I don't wear stillettoes.

And soon I woke up and I was even more sad because he was gone again, like I knew he would be.

From Stef

It's taken me a while to eventually post this blog, namely cos I've been putting it off. How can you put into words how you feel on the "anniversary" of a friend's death. Well for me it's insanely hard. I can't express how often I dream about Max, the reoccuring nightmares and the sadness I feel every day for his parents and sister. I think it was these feelings that led me to go to Cadiz on the 26th to lay flowers and just be somewhere that I felt connected with him.

The day of the 26th I went to the spot he fell and lay flowers for everyone within our "crew" in Spain. Jo, Cheryl, Marina, Rob, Gary, Simon, Myles, Andrew, Tom, Salina, Goertz and Peter. I won't lie, it was such a low moment, after Max's death… I returned to Cadiz, and I did have times when despite having other friends I felt lonely. Being on the sea front, watching the waves, hearing the locals walking past and crying alone brought back all the memories - all the sadness that felt from having lost a very special person. I can't describe my pain, sadness, tears and anger. But at the same time I had the weird sensation that I was at least in a place that I could relate to Max.

After the hour I stayed at his "spot", I walked to his old flat, looked up at his balcony and couldn't hold back the tears. To me, looking up at his balcony and seeing his curly head appearing or seeing his hand with his token ciggie hanging over the balcony was standard.. And so returning there was incredibly painful.. But again I felt I needed to be there, in a place that I could relate to Max, and not back home where I'd be frustrated or isolated with my feelings.

I think about him every day, and honestly can't understand why such a vibrant and colorful person was taken away from us. He was such a vital ingredient to the Erasmus experience for me… I feel that when he went, the "glory" years of Viva Cadiz went with him.

Love Stef (his friend from Cadiz) x x x

To Max

It's been almost exactly a year since I expected you to turn up at my house in Barcelona for a break from Cadiz as we'd arranged, and almost exactly a year since I found myself writing on this blog with tears in my eyes.

I wish we'd had that week.

It's difficult to look at the photos on this blog without smiling to myself or shaking my head in thought of what was going on at the moments in which those photos were taken and remembering the kind of person you were and will always be in my mind, how could I ever forget, you made me laugh. A lot.

And as Owen said, I wish I could still make you laugh too. Maybe I still am.

It's difficult to look at them without a tear in my eye as well.

As tragic, unbelievable and sad your passing was, you always seem to bring a smile to my face when I remember.

What a quality. An eternal quality.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to be there at the Irish last weekend with everyone, but I have been back to London a few times. Been to see your tree, I know you're impressed with it.

I've seen the boys on a few occasions too.

I've walked through the park a number of times when I've been back in the UK and to know that I won't see you around there or out in Spain still feels like there's lots of unfinished business.

For a guy that had so much more to give, you still managed to give so much to so many people.

More than some people do in a whole long lifetime.

When I think of the petty, mediocre things that go on in this world you remind me of what's important.

Thanks Max, we had lots of good times. I wish we could have more.

It was always fun and you're always living on and inspiring me in my thoughts.

Your friend always,
David Wilson

A Year On

I can't believe it's been a year since Max went. I feel that the day Max did die will always be remembered as the most horrific one of my life. I don't feel it right to compare how I felt then and how I feel now, as only after we accepted and understood this loss did the Cadiz group start any sort of process of personal healing. It is a commonly used phrase to say that time can heal just about anything, but, even for me, who only knew Max for a few months, there will always be moments when I think back on what happened to him and feel the colour drain from my face. Looking back at what actually happened to Max, I can not see it as anything but an incredibly unfortunate event. Max was larking around, but that was Max and to take that away from him would be to extinguish part of his character. He deserved better, without doubt. I have found refuge in thinking about it pragmatically. It makes no sense to keep getting yourself caught up in the tragedy of it. The conclusion of this process for me came when I realised that there was no way of completely feeling better or letting the memories go. However, I think my way of coping is to try to cling onto the other memories I have of him. I've still got the baseball top I was wearing from that night in my wardrobe at uni. I can't get round to cleaning it. It doesn't remind me as much of the moment of Max's death than the amazing time we were having beforehand, so I guess it's more symbolic of how together we were as a group.

I want to also add that my thoughts have been increasingly with Max's family and close friends at this time of the year. In fact, my wishes go out to all those who are reading this blog.

Tomas Corbyn, xx

Max - the best friend I never met

It has taken me a lot of time to pluck up the courage to read this blog, as I have felt for a long time that I had no right to. I was one of the Cadiz Erasmus students, and yet I never met Max, as I arrived in Spain merely hours after his untimely death. One of my best friends from Durham university, Tom, had been in Cadiz since September and before my arrival he had told me about how amazing life out there was. I think Tom could tell that I was apprehensive about coming to an unknown lifestyle in Spain, but he assured me: "Don't worry, I'll get you introduced to all the Erasmus students, we'll have a great time. There's a few English people out here... Steph, Rob, Jo... And wait until you meet Max!"

I had spoken to Rob, Steph and Jo all before I came to Spain via MSN Messenger and email, but for some reason, even though I had Max's email address, I never got in contact with him. I suppose I just assumed I'd get to know him when I got to Cadiz.

When I arrived, Carnival was erupting - it was amazing. I had my heavy bag on this bus that was stuck in the middle of a road blocked with traffic, and I smiled to myself, knowing that from February till June, I was going to have some of the best moments of my life. And yet all the students I met were distraught. Absolutely shell-shocked. I did not realise at that point who Max was, and I don't think I ever will.

From an outsider's point of view, it was amazing to see what an incredible effect someone could have on so many people's lives. It's so strange seeing all these photos of people with Max, people that have since become some of my best friends, and not know the guy in the middle with the ever-present smile and curly hair. The more I read about him, the more I get upset that I never met him. I am certain we would have become amazing friends just from the everyone else's descriptions of him. And in a strange way, without ever meeting Max, and never knowing him or even hearing the sound of his voice, I feel like I do know him. He sincerely reminds me of someone, someone I can't put my finger on... I sort of feel that he reminds me of that person everyone knows. The funny guy, the cool guy, the one that everyone turns to and says, "What's the plan for tonight, mate?". The person you turn to if you have a problem, or if you want someone to cheer you up, or just someone to talk utter rubbish with. This is what Max is to me: the stranger I never met, the centre of attention, the one everyone knew, and most of all, the person everyone secretly wanted to be.

After reading the posts on this blog, I cannot imagine the pain Max's family must have gone through, and are still dealing with. It was very strange to briefly meet Max's parents in Nahu, without meeting the top lad himself, and I take the opportunity to apologise for what must have seemed a very rude introduction from myself. Mr and Mrs O'Connell - I was terrified.

The pain must be equally great for Max's friends, the ones from home, and the ones he met Cadiz. It is through you all that Max lives on. The only solace I hope you can find is that, although this person you knew, this life and soul of each and every party, has unfortunately passed on, please take comfort in the fact that you did know him. Although he was a big part of your life before passing away, please be glad that he did touch your life. In a very strange way, I feel he has touched mine.

Thanks, Ross Urmston