But he's a team man, through and through, and what will matter far more to him than personal glory is the fact that those eleven years have seen the club win 10 major trophies, culminating in that magnificent Heineken Cup triumph at  Twickenham, on May the 20th.

Alex King Commands the Stage at the Heineken Cup Final

Wasps 25 Leicester 9 (copyright: Empics 20.5.2007)

I had spoken to Alex a couple of weeks before the final, and he’d told me that he’d had a dream, which included two key components: we were going to win, and he was going to give me a large cheque for the Matt Hampson Trust Fund. He delivered on both counts, and I hope he lets me know when he has a dream about the lottery numbers.

Alex had been uncertain about his future for a long time. With his Wasps contract expiring at the end of last season, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to carry on playing at all. Bayonne showed an interest, and he made two trips to the Basque club – accompanied on the second one by his wife Lizzi. When he spoke to me about the facilities there, the atmosphere, and how appealing the lifestyle looked, I sensed that his mind was nearly made up. He had told me that he could never imagine playing for another English club.

When we met up at the Crown, in St. Margaret’s, a few hours after the Heineken Cup Final, we had a brief chat, and I sensed something different about him. I’d spent time with him after some of our other great triumphs, and there’d been a boyish euphoria about him then. This time, he was clearly very happy, but there was a more mellow air about him – pride, satisfaction, reflection. Maybe he subconsciously knew that he had just quit the  Wasps stage, and he was mentally coming to terms with it, determined to savour every last moment. The photograph taken of us, holding the Cup together, will forever  have a very prominent place in my living room

I spoke to him last Sunday, just a few days after he'd returned from a two-week holiday in Provence. I’d been trying to get hold of him about something, and knew, from a text he’d sent me, that he’d been back to France two days earlier, after spending the first few days of the week back in training at  Twyford  Avenue. He revealed that he’d been to Clermont-Ferrand, that they’d made him a good offer, and that he would be making his final decision within the next 24 hours (once again, he was true to his word).  I knew from the excitement in his voice, as he told me that he’d always wanted to play rugby in France, and that he’d love the chance to experience their lifestyle and learn their language, that his mind had already been made up. When I jokingly offered to give him a crash course in useful French phrases,  he asked me how to say “Hang on to the f**king ball!”

Despite being an admirer of Alex from the day when he stepped out at Loftus Road for his winning debut against Saracens, in September 1996, I had never really got to know him that well. We’d spoken on quite a few occasions, and shared the odd drink on away trips, but nothing more than that.

It was in May 2005 that, to my surprise and delight, he asked me if I could help editing his Benefit brochure. I regarded it as an honour and a privilege, and I spent a hugely enjoyable couple of months going through written contributions from the great and the good of rugby (many of whose spelling and grammar left much to be desired!) as well as filming interviews with team-mates past and present for the superb DVD Nigel Meddemen made for the Curry Night at the Clay Oven. What came over loud and clear was that here was a player who was admired by everybody he played with and against, and a man who inspired great affection in all who knew him. As Andy Gomarsall, then at Worcester, said: ”He’s a very good  friend to so many players up and down the country.”

It was during that hectic time that my father fell ill and died, just under a month after collapsing at home in Worcester. At first, he seemed to be on the mend, and they moved him out of intensive care into a recovery ward. Then, he took a turn for the worse, and we knew his days were numbered. I told Alex, just to let him know that I might be out of circulation for a few days. I’m not going to try to claim that he single-handedly helped me through that very sad time, but his calls and messages were a great comfort, as they showed that he cared. Anyone who has been through the same thing will know that that really matters.

I was working yesterday afternoon, when Alex’s departure was finally confirmed. When I got home, at around 11.15, I just sat down for half an hour and reflected on all that he has done as a Wasp, both on and off the field. I went to bed,  maroooned in that strange area between happiness and melancholy.

I’m still in that in-between state this morning, and it is with unashamedly moist eye that I give you the Benefit Brochure offering of that unlikely poet, Joe Worsley.

--ooOoo-- 

SHINING CROWN
He started with a floppy quiff,
Male pattern baldness put paid to this.

There was a goatee beard, and cheesy grin,
But now old age looks settled in.

Many a time I wake with a start,
Seeing that furrowed brow and black eyes dart.

In the heat of battle sharp words are said,
Run for the hills when the King loses his head.

Despite these issues, I still count myself blessed,
Guided by the man I think best.

For he is our shepherd and has led us well,
Given memories too priceless to sell.

When I  am as old as he looks I shall reminisce and smile,
Think ‘cheers’ boy and dream a while.

--ooOoo--

With his performances on the field, Kingy has enabled  Wasps supporters to walk tall.

With his dealings with us off the pitch, he has made us all feel as if we really matter.

That’s a great legacy from a very special person.

Au revoir, Alex. Thanks for everything, and don’t be gone long!

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