I had the good fortune to know Jim, when I was a sub-editor up in Fleet Street, where, in my role, I had the privilege to read his copy before it hit 'the presses'; also as a fellow football writer, when I was covering first West Ham and then Southampton; and finally occasionally as a partner at golfing pro-ams.
His immense prowess as a journalist is rightly well-documented and universally respected. But my abiding memories of Jim in his role as a football writer are of the humility and friendliness that he showed towards me, a writer for a provincial newspaper. In Jim's eyes, there was no distinction between us, and he treated me exactly as he did his fellow giants of Fleet Street in the final days of newspaper excellence (my view, obviously).
He would share knowledge, both specific to the game we were about to/had watched as well as about football in general.
Jim had a magnificent sense of humour, with a quick and dry wit but often just belly-achingly funny.
The last time I saw Jim was some 20 years ago, for a pro-am at Moor Allerton GC in Leeds, when he and Bob Cass invited me to join them for lunch before the golf.
I blame my not finishing among the prize winners that day solely down to the fact that I had been left with aching ribs after being regaled with countless anecdotes by both Jim and Bob, anecdotes that could never find their way into print, alas.
It was a pleasure and a privilege to have been even a peripheral character in Jim's well-lived life.
My condolences go to all his family and close friends.
Chris Stratford
Thought
