My lovely father in law Stan passes at 93.

 My lovely father in law Stan passes at 93.

We often scan the obituary pages of both the Times and Telegraph newspaper if only because we might want to read about the colourful and highly esteemed lives of military colonels from the Second World War or famous painters, writers, sculptors, actors and actresses we may never have heard of. We peruse at some leisure the lives of people who have never stolen the public limelight. These are the ambassadors, scientists, mathematicians, professors and teachers whose careers have never impacted on us and remain elusive. 

And so I turn to a gentleman whose life touched his family with enduring, lifelong affection, caring, consideration, thoughtfulness and glorious tenderness. He never craved fame or celebrity, never made the gossip columns and never ever came anywhere close to notoriety. He was the greatest, loveliest, finest, modest, self deprecating, amusingly opinionated, delightfully funny father in law and great grandpa. The importance he attached to family was unquestionable, unwavering and steadfast. He was my father in law Stan Myers, an honourable man, law abiding, respectable and friendly. 

In the early hours of Wednesday morning, Stan Myers died at the venerable age of 93, venerable because he was enormously well respected, both adored and adorable. Stan was my devoted football conversationalist, a lifelong Arsenal supporter and probably much more of an authority on the offside law or VAR than me. He made his debut on the Highbury terraces when Cliff Bastin(the boy Bastin) was racing up and down the wing with commendable speed and dexterity while the dazzling wing wizard Alex James used to tear up and down the wings thrillingly.

This was a time when Arsenal were feared, and still are, throughout the land. Herbert Chapman, Arsenal's no nonsense, patrician manager, wore a hat and a waistcoat for all of Highbury's old First Division Championship titles. Stan could never give you chapter and verse on those halcyon days of the 1930s but must have been in awe of such memorable achievements.

He could also tell you what happened on the day of that remarkable friendly in November 1953 when the Magical Magyars of Hungary, starring Ferenc Puskas and company, humiliated Billy Wright's England on a foggy afternoon in London. He was there at the old Wembley, the day when the winter mists descended  and everything went wrong for the national side. English footballing arrogance and insularity had swallowed up England and not for the first time, they were taken to the cleaners.

Stan tells the story about the day when he first set eyes on the remarkable George Best, arguably one of Britain's purest and finest natural talents. It was a League game at Highbury and, of course, Stan believed that, even in his coltish youth as a babe in arms player, Best was the complete article and consummate genius. Stan loved his football and loved his family with a pride and passion that now moves me to tears. Thankyou Stan. You're a gentleman and scholar. 

For almost 40 years, Stan was a hard working, conscientious and dedicated civil servant who worked industriously and purposefully for the Ministry of Defence. He was an accurate and meticulous map maker whose contribution to the Civil Service must always be recognised and admired for an eternity. He married his beautiful wife Rita in 1955 and was the best and most outstanding mother in law any son in law could ever have wished for. 

Both Stan and Rita were married for 46 years and they were both brilliant and fantastic parents to my gorgeous wife Bev and my wonderful brother in law Jon. But Stan always had time for his children, always available for pearls of wisdom, guidance and advice. Stan though also worked diligently in London's East End markets, serving up hundreds and thousands of burgers and hotdogs in Petticoat Lane and, quite frequently, outside the old Wembley stadium with able assistance from yours truly. He knuckled down to his task with that admirable work ethic.  

Stan had no airs or graces, affectations or any hint of snobbery because he was genuine, down to earth, chatty, talkative and extremely sociable when the subject turned back to Arsenal or football. He loved a bet or punt and would regularly pop in to the local bookmakers with the most gentle of flutters. He was never a gambler but completely conversant with the horse racing literature of the day, the jockeys, the trainers, the movers and shakers in the world of the Racing Post.

Stan saved my life when I had the most horrific mental breakdown in 2012. He quietly guided me back in the direction of Jewish Care, a quiet and courteous man, both private and solid as a rock. He was compassionate, helpful, a major source of inspiration, a beacon of honesty and integrity. He paid for my lunch at the Jewish Care Day Centre in Stamford Hill and I'll never forget what he did for me when life looked so dark and ominous.  

But then Stan's wife Rita, sadly died in 2003 on Independence Day in America. On the same evening, the great and legendary soul singer Barry White passed away so I think my dearly beloved mother in law Rita may well have regarded this as just about the right coincidence. Stan went everywhere and did everything with Rita and I'll never forget how I was so warmly embraced and welcomed into their family. It was a privilege to know Stan because he was an exemplary role model to us all, putting family first all the time  and prioritising family when their welfare was often discussed. Stan and Rita stood me with me under the chupah when I married Bev 32 years ago and, along with my late and elegant dad, looked the business, dapper and debonair in the smartest attire.

He was there when our perfect children Sam and Rachel were born and he was the man who converted Sam into an Arsenal enthusiast.  My brother in law Jon had a considerable and beneficial influence on Sam's football allegiance and, quite frankly, it didn't bother me in the least because I just found his enthusiasm for the Beautiful Game truly inspiring. And of course there was my always supportive sister in law Jo, a magnificently loving figure who always greets me with the warmest of hugs. I feel so blessed to have such a glorious family.  

And there you have it Ladies and Gentlemen. We do appreciate the cohesion and togetherness of the family unit. But when our parents, grandparents and grandchildren die, a part of us weeps openly and copiously. Our appreciation for their devotion, tireless loyalty and unconditional love can never be measured because they are the ones who were always available, accommodating, faithfully believing in us all the time, never disappointing us and just there on all occasions. Stan Myers. I'll always love you and of course you'll always be in my heart. Some of us are hoping that Arsenal win the Premier League by a country mile and the Champions League because the Gunners will be there for you when the Champions League trophy is lifted. Come on you Gooners. Always thinking about you and loving you, Stan.