I am a world away now in Texas, USA, but reading about Hoffy made me sad, happy, sad and then happy again.

I met Ken (Hoffy) when I moved to the Beresfield area and played football with his son Mark in the 70s and 80s – we were 16 and I played up to 1981, I guess.

We were never in any serious trouble then, Hoffy saw to that, plus my own dad, too.

But we were allowed to be boys, we did silly stuff but we knew the “line”.

Hoffy was a big part of a lot of fun I had. I have fond memories of the “Bottom Bar” at the Bero bowlo.

Playing Irish poker springs to mind – stories that Hoffy would swear were true, he would not lie to us youngens, would he?

Mr Hoffman was one of the nicest men I will ever know, memories of him being upset when I called him Mr Hoffman always make me smile.

Mrs Hoffy was great to us all too.

She would rouse at Hoffy for being silly with us, as he was one of us I reckon, but Mrs Hoffman had to at least be seen as trying to keep him under control. Good luck with that, huh!

I am not sure that he was sometimes not even more silly than us, but he would never hurt anyone, and you knew not to ask his opinion unless you wanted it, really wanted it.

Like I said, I am no longer a teenager playing footy in Beresfield.

I am now a 49-year-old bloke living in Texas, but for a few minutes today I went back to that “Bottom Bar” or to the football field at Bero, I can hear Hoffy loud and clear, I always could. I believe I always will.

Mrs Hoffy, Mark, Al, Lorraine – I know you all must be very sad, nothing I say can help that, but I hope you remember some of that silly stuff too.

I guess my reaction here in Texas shows me that Hoffy had a lot more effect on me that I ever realised.

I may just have to have a beer or four in memory of a good mate.