Mole's special friend
Christmas is a strange time, in life and in football, it can be the best of occasions or the worst of impositions. It is also a reflective time, one to see beyond the glamour and glitter of shops and to notice the passing hobo. As I sit down with the privilege that is my wife and kids on Xmas day I will also, as is my want, reflect on those, too numerous to mention here, who perhaps might not have quite a good as day.
Let me introduce you to someone, by no means the most extreme example of misfortune I know but nevertheless still worthy of mention. For the benefit of this piece let’s call him Mole. Said person is a lot of things in personality terms but he is also a Leeds United supporter. Now I don’t know everything about this lad, I really don’t know anything about what he has been doing over the last few months, except the titbits that have made it through the grapevine, but none of that matters in this context. Mole is a good lad, heart in the right place and a man whose life has outrageous highs and lows and he is also a symbol of how life, and particularly following Leeds, is unkind.
Mole is spending this Xmas either at home in rented accommodation in a seedy part of Leeds, or in a hospital ward, or in the bosom of his family who live overseas or in a cave somewhere east of Krakow. Its probably one of the first two but either way chances are he isn’t at his physical peak. Despite being only in his 40’s the gods of health have not been kind to Mole, imposing a serious breathing condition on top of an already existing body that has lived life to the full. Factor in a personality that attracts “friction” and the one thing he can never get is peace and quiet.
Mole, like a lot of us, came to Leeds United before he ever knew his Beeston from his Bramley, and like those of us like that has more loyalty in his little finger to the club than 99% of born lioners. He has lived the last 15 years, the highs of the CL semi, the lows of the administration and -15 points with an equal amount of fortitude. Along the way he has acquired a million friends, some he has kept, some he has lost, some he has buggered off in a tizzy that no-one but him understands. Mole doesn’t get back what he gives but in some ways he wouldn’t be happy if he did, he only wants it replicated by those really special to him.
Now I wouldn’t want you to get the impression that Mole is perfect, a million taxi drivers will testify otherwise. He is also guilty of one of the worst crimes against humanity I can imagine, being one of the mid-wife’s of the curse of Squmotaccoe. But we can ignore that, its finding out he has the brain the size of a planet hidden behind his spiky facade that can wind you up. His other contributions to the world of Leeds United either are still too raw even for him to reference or too current to be useful to mention. However in the round his general contribution is bigger and more significant than a 100 more media savvy/whorey types out there. The experience of the 00’s would have been lesser without him.
So why am I telling you all this? Well because as I ponder the atheist version of the meaning of Xmas I am drawn to his memory. I am also a bit soft in the head, prone to a belief that if you articulate something you can make it possible. Whilst I could name a million positives I’d love in my life in 2010 I think I can spare a couple for Mole, may the fates bring him a better year than the one gone by. Without the Mole’s of this world all we a left with is the bland and boring, nonexistent omnipotent being save us from such hell.
When I raise my glass over Xmas dinner I will silently toast my pal Mole (and wish to buy him a pint in the Vic one day), anyone thinks they have him or a similar character in their life, why not do the same over your Xmas meal?
