Neal William Fazackerley

Neal William, or ‘Just William’ as we should have called him, was our son. He was born on 14^th November 1959 after a traumatic birth, and it took him a while to come to terms with the world, but he became a very active baby and by nine months he was running about.

From then on, chaos reigned – he was like quicksilver. Tipping over his pram, getting his fingers jammed in the hinges of the hood, getting his head stuck in the high chair, jumping up and down in his cot until the bottom fell through and the whole thing collapsed on him were very much daily occurrences for Neal. We were almost at the point of putting him in a straight jacket.

He was a bright, happy child, and always has a mischievous grin which he had all through his life. He didn’t bother to talk, he just pointed, and Janice would say ‘ Mum, Neal wants such a thing’, or she would get it for him – she was a big sister/bodyguard. He was strong willed to the point of stubbornness, he knew what he did not like and there was no way he was going to do it.

He didn’t like shopping. He didn’t like his hair cut, and when we eventually got to the barber after peeling him off every lamppost we passed, he sat in the chair with his hands over his hair. He went to school quite happily the first day, but he didn’t intend that there would be a repeat performance. ‘I went to school yesterday and I don’t want to go again’ he said.

We hoped that as he grew bigger things might improve – but no, they went worse. He jumped in the deep end of the swimming baths and shouted ‘will somebody save me, I’m drowning!’; he got his ankle stuck between the frame and chain of his bike; shut his fingers in his trolley; went fishing – with a metal turning – and cut his finger end off; got a lolly stick stuck across his mouth, got lost at Land’s End – we thought he’d fallen over the cliffs ; broke his arm jumping off a wall and had three anaesthetics in one week before it could be properly set. We have often wondered how he has managed to survive this long – his guardian angel certainly worked 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

When he was about 6 he developed an interest in ‘things chemical’. He would use the cupboard in the hall as a lab, where he made ‘chemistry water’. This had a basis of Ribena, with salt, pepper, vinegar, bits of his hair – anything he could find. I threatened him that if he made any more I would make him drink it, and for a few weeks peace reigned, until one day Janice called ‘Mum, he’s made some more chemistry water’. ‘Right, now drink it’ Disaster was narrowly averted when a wide-eyed Janice shrieked ‘Mum, it’s got fly spray in it’.

Next came the ‘mechanical phase’ with the advent of the ball-point pen. We never had a pen in house that would work. All the bits were there – all over his bedroom – but putting them together posed a serious problem. He would have done well in the construction industry – demolition section.

He calmed down somewhat by the time he started at Hyde Grammar School, where he took part in all the sports and games with great enthusiasm. It was always HIS dad who had to pick up the football team when the coach broke down or failed to turn up, and I was ‘volunteered’ to provide all the bacon when his Duke of Edinburgh Award group did one of their exercises. They nearly got shot on Kinder Scout because nobody bothered to check the grouse-shooting timetable.

He did well in his ’O’ and ‘A’ levels, although he must be the only person to sit ‘A’ level English Lit without reading the books. He was an avid reader, ‘Books are for enjoyment, not tearing apart’, he said.

He began his career with Barclay’s Bank and stayed with them in different capacities all his life. When we moved to Mottram in1971 he joined Mottram Cricket Club, where he developed his cricket skills – and other skills that cricketers do when rain stops play. This became his life, and he served the club as secretary, treasurer, groundsman etc. over the years. In 1992, as team captain, he had his finest hour when Mottram did the double-league and Rhodes Bowl winners. In the book ‘Tales of the Crimson Rambler’ there is a section detailing his achievement, with the final comment ‘Every club should have a Fazzer’ (his nickname).

In 1994 Neal married Debbie – the best thing that happened to him. She was a breath of fresh air, and offered him the stability that he needed. Together, they have raised their two sons Sam and Matt, sparing no amount of time and patience and showering them with love tempered with discipline. It shows, for they are two lovely boys. Debbie quickly took her place alongside him at Mottram, making teas and helping at social events. Neal became a wonderful family man, a loving husband and a devoted and much loved dad.

His family and his cricket have remained the love of his life, and we have been surprised and strengthened by the vast numbers of cards, letters and phone calls we have received since his tragic death. All have said that Neal will be remembered for his capacity for living and for his cheerfulness and ready smile. During his short life he has touched many people of all ages with his caring nature, his generosity and willingness to help. He did not profess to have a deeply religious faith, but I think he will be recorded in the golden book as one ‘who loved his fellow men’.

Neal, we are proud to have had you as our son, and we thank you for the great joy that you have given to us. You will be forever in our hearts – we shall speak of you often to your boys and Debbie.

Goodbye – we will always love you.

By Marie Fazackerley