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Billy Whiz remembers Graham Rand
Paul Merison16 Dec - 09:52
Message of remembrance from Billy
I was genuinely saddened when I learned of the passing of my good friend Graham Rand. Randy, as everyone called him, was one of the nicest, most caring, and cared for people the club has ever had and I have ever known.
As a person, he was always conscious of other people’s feelings and the thought of accidentally offending or annoying anyone was anathema to him. This led him to naturally offer to help out whenever he could. I was lucky enough to experience this first hand as only a few years after joining the club, situations and forces (some of which may or may not have been self-inflicted) conspired to make me a bit skint and my life a little awkward. Randy immediately offered for me to lodge with him and without this I’m not sure how I would have coped.
Now, consider that as I can be a tad boisterous and Randy was very fastidious and disciplined it must have been difficult for him to put up with me - I never did learn where everything was supposed to go in the fridge. This was then taken to another level when he made the same offer of help to his cousin, Martin. I don’t know how he coped with this situation as it’s fair to say that Martin and I had much more similar personality traits to each other than we did to Randy, but, as always, cope he did, with mental stamina of Olympic proportions.
During this time Randy and I were playing in the first team together so we shared lifts to games and it was these lifts that demonstrated that actually we had traits that, although quite different, did jigsaw together effectively. Now everyone’s good traits can have flipsides that are the unintended consequence and for Randy it was that his fastidiousness could lead to him ensuring everything was just right, meaning that he did have a habit of running late. So to combat this I utilised my ability to tell the odd white lie. Therefore to ensure we got to games on time I’d tell him that the meet time was 15 minutes earlier than it really was. Unfortunately my ruse was spotted on an occasion when “Randy time” and real time were just about it sync when we left home for an away game meet. However, Randy needed to stop to pick something up enroute. When we arrived 20-minutes late on Randy-time, but only 5-minutes late on real time he was baffled as to why he wasn’t getting any grief. Eventually I had to fess-up to all present that I’d been lying about the meet times for months and with a wry-smile Randy admitted that it had actually worked
One thing that Randy and I did have in common though was that we weren’t the most natural hockey players and had to use what abilities we did have to the max. For me that was having a decent top speed, a willingness to throw myself headfirst at, or in front of, anything when mixed with the stupidity to forget how hard the ball is or how abrasive pitches are, it kind of worked. For Randy though he had a much more practical natural ability and that was an internal engine of almost perpetual motion proportions. Bloody hell could that boy run and how I took advantage of that late in games. I’d just mill around in the oppo’s 25 (it was 25 back then before the rules nerds say it’s the 23) while Randy would be helping the defence at our end then seconds later he’d be in their 25 trying to feed lazy forwards like me.
On the social front, Randy may not have been the most natural socialite but the beauty of South Saxons is that it is more than just a club, it’s a family and Randy was right at the centre of this family. I can’t think of a club event he wouldn’t be at, be it a quiz, fancy dress night, Old Town pub crawl or tournament. For me it was at tournaments where Randy would be at his best, I think that as the hockey was not so important it allowed him to loosen up and engage in the absurdities that touring can bring up. To witness Randy, cuddling a pint, cheekily berating the louder members of the club, such as Karen Painter, Hinkley, PK or myself, for our alcohol induced hockey incompetence, all the while grinning from ear to ear, was to be a little closer to utopia.
Like all of us though age started to slow us down but Randy stayed loyal to the club and was ready to play for any team when asked but, unlike the rest of us, he also had to cope with horrible effects of Huntington's disease. Huntington’s is an inherited disease that, once onset has begun, slowly degrades brain function, particularly with regard to muscle control. However, Randy took on this challenge like any in his life, he just got on with it and never moaned. Even when he was unable to play hockey he would still try to be at the club as often as possible and attend socials as usual.
As it progressed, being in smaller social groups helped and he’d still come down to The Dripping Spring with me, Dom, Jules etc, even though he was starting to find it difficult to talk. He’d have a beer and take the mick out of us when we messed up at darts, as by this point he was unfortunately not able to join in playing.
Some of my last memories of Randy are around this time as I moved to Sevenoaks after I met Michele, my wife. I did occasionally see Randy at the club when I had the chance to visit but night’s out were no longer an option and by the time we moved to Westfield, Randy had been moved to a care home. I got to know Randy’s brother from the local pub and he kept me updated with his progress. However it is with sincere regret that I never visited him in his care home and I feel guilty for not being there for him and to have one last laugh at me before his disease reached its final stages.
Randy tackled Huntington’s exactly like he took on hockey, he would outrun everyone at hockey and, once his symptoms started, he tried his best to outrun Huntington’s, and to some extent he did, as he managed to live much longer than most who suffer this most cruel of diseases.
I will miss you my quirky friend, thank you for helping me when I needed it most, thank you for putting up with me while you did, thank you for all the matches and beers we shared together and finally, thank you for helping to make South Saxons, and also the world, just a little bit better.
As a person, he was always conscious of other people’s feelings and the thought of accidentally offending or annoying anyone was anathema to him. This led him to naturally offer to help out whenever he could. I was lucky enough to experience this first hand as only a few years after joining the club, situations and forces (some of which may or may not have been self-inflicted) conspired to make me a bit skint and my life a little awkward. Randy immediately offered for me to lodge with him and without this I’m not sure how I would have coped.
Now, consider that as I can be a tad boisterous and Randy was very fastidious and disciplined it must have been difficult for him to put up with me - I never did learn where everything was supposed to go in the fridge. This was then taken to another level when he made the same offer of help to his cousin, Martin. I don’t know how he coped with this situation as it’s fair to say that Martin and I had much more similar personality traits to each other than we did to Randy, but, as always, cope he did, with mental stamina of Olympic proportions.
During this time Randy and I were playing in the first team together so we shared lifts to games and it was these lifts that demonstrated that actually we had traits that, although quite different, did jigsaw together effectively. Now everyone’s good traits can have flipsides that are the unintended consequence and for Randy it was that his fastidiousness could lead to him ensuring everything was just right, meaning that he did have a habit of running late. So to combat this I utilised my ability to tell the odd white lie. Therefore to ensure we got to games on time I’d tell him that the meet time was 15 minutes earlier than it really was. Unfortunately my ruse was spotted on an occasion when “Randy time” and real time were just about it sync when we left home for an away game meet. However, Randy needed to stop to pick something up enroute. When we arrived 20-minutes late on Randy-time, but only 5-minutes late on real time he was baffled as to why he wasn’t getting any grief. Eventually I had to fess-up to all present that I’d been lying about the meet times for months and with a wry-smile Randy admitted that it had actually worked
One thing that Randy and I did have in common though was that we weren’t the most natural hockey players and had to use what abilities we did have to the max. For me that was having a decent top speed, a willingness to throw myself headfirst at, or in front of, anything when mixed with the stupidity to forget how hard the ball is or how abrasive pitches are, it kind of worked. For Randy though he had a much more practical natural ability and that was an internal engine of almost perpetual motion proportions. Bloody hell could that boy run and how I took advantage of that late in games. I’d just mill around in the oppo’s 25 (it was 25 back then before the rules nerds say it’s the 23) while Randy would be helping the defence at our end then seconds later he’d be in their 25 trying to feed lazy forwards like me.
On the social front, Randy may not have been the most natural socialite but the beauty of South Saxons is that it is more than just a club, it’s a family and Randy was right at the centre of this family. I can’t think of a club event he wouldn’t be at, be it a quiz, fancy dress night, Old Town pub crawl or tournament. For me it was at tournaments where Randy would be at his best, I think that as the hockey was not so important it allowed him to loosen up and engage in the absurdities that touring can bring up. To witness Randy, cuddling a pint, cheekily berating the louder members of the club, such as Karen Painter, Hinkley, PK or myself, for our alcohol induced hockey incompetence, all the while grinning from ear to ear, was to be a little closer to utopia.
Like all of us though age started to slow us down but Randy stayed loyal to the club and was ready to play for any team when asked but, unlike the rest of us, he also had to cope with horrible effects of Huntington's disease. Huntington’s is an inherited disease that, once onset has begun, slowly degrades brain function, particularly with regard to muscle control. However, Randy took on this challenge like any in his life, he just got on with it and never moaned. Even when he was unable to play hockey he would still try to be at the club as often as possible and attend socials as usual.
As it progressed, being in smaller social groups helped and he’d still come down to The Dripping Spring with me, Dom, Jules etc, even though he was starting to find it difficult to talk. He’d have a beer and take the mick out of us when we messed up at darts, as by this point he was unfortunately not able to join in playing.
Some of my last memories of Randy are around this time as I moved to Sevenoaks after I met Michele, my wife. I did occasionally see Randy at the club when I had the chance to visit but night’s out were no longer an option and by the time we moved to Westfield, Randy had been moved to a care home. I got to know Randy’s brother from the local pub and he kept me updated with his progress. However it is with sincere regret that I never visited him in his care home and I feel guilty for not being there for him and to have one last laugh at me before his disease reached its final stages.
Randy tackled Huntington’s exactly like he took on hockey, he would outrun everyone at hockey and, once his symptoms started, he tried his best to outrun Huntington’s, and to some extent he did, as he managed to live much longer than most who suffer this most cruel of diseases.
I will miss you my quirky friend, thank you for helping me when I needed it most, thank you for putting up with me while you did, thank you for all the matches and beers we shared together and finally, thank you for helping to make South Saxons, and also the world, just a little bit better.
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