Jack was ninety-three and my neighbour for more than twenty years.
After a disappointing season two years ago, Jack confided. ‘I don’t think I’ll see us win another premiership.’
Last season they improved, but still… ‘It would have been good to see another flag before I die.’
‘Next year,’ I said.
But it wasn’t to be.
‘You’ll have to stick around for another year,’ I told him.
‘Perhaps.’
But I saw the glint in his eyes.
He’ll still be cheering, next year.