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Sunday 1 January 2012

A Dying Breed

I'm sure most readers will be aware of the sad death of our friend and fellow fan, Lance Ireland, in the early hours of New Year's Eve.

Lance had been diagnosed with cancer earlier in the year but was determined not to make a fuss and get on with life as best he could in whatever time he had remaining.

As much as he was often the centre of attention when out on the road with DAFTS, it wasn't a role he courted and overt attention unsettled him - ever the soldier it was a case of no fuss, no pack drill.

We all have our own memories of Lance - unsettling fellow travellers with his repetoire of songs, the variety of headwear,  his views on football today (how long do you have?), turning up far too early at an away meet, his Morris dancing at the Spring Thing festival, the Darlo shrine in the Sportsman, being sent to his own table in the pub when he simply got too daft and many more.

Lance was one of the first to donate to any cause - the youth development and the prediction league both benefitted on a regular basis.  At the start of each season, he always give me £10 to give to Liz for the London Millers annual raffle (and even when he won he'd decline the prize).
 Lance Ireland, Sheik of Harborne

It was heartening to see that he was finally able to meet his Hollywood sweetheart Rhonda Fleming at her home in LA a week or so after Darlo's victory at Wembley.  The welcome he was given spoke volumes for the friendship he developed with her over previous years.

It is fair to say that he will be missed by all that knew him - they don't make them like that anymore.

Thanks for the memories Lance - I'm sure St Peter knows all the words to Me and My Pussycat by now...

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