Wayne Harrison

This morning I was told of the passing of my good friend and colleague, Danny Kelly. The tributes to him in the coming days from those who knew him and worked with him will give you an idea of how much he was loved. I loved him too. Very much so. A man who I called "Dad" on air because I wished he was. I hope you give me a few minutes to read my thoughts, and I hope they do you justice, Dan. By 2008 I was a mess. I would sleep 18 hours a day, the other 6 mostly wanting to die. Once or twice a week I would open my laptop, organise football tabs, gossip and news as prep for jobs in broadcasting that I knew would never come, "just in case". When hope dies, we die, after all. Then Danny Kelly came into my life. I was driving out of London having been to see a psychiatrist about the state I was in and had BBC London on the radio. Danny was presenting with a guest, reviewing books. My name came up in the conversation, so I called in. We hit it off straight away, talked about football for what seemed like forever but was probably a standard 10-12 minute section. But for me it sparked a temporary respite from sleep and chronic mental health issues and even for that I was grateful. A couple of years later Danny joined talkSPORT to do the 7-10pm slot through the week. He told me he was offered a few co-presenters but he remembered that conversation we had and he wanted me to do it. A lifeline of work, passionately talking about our sport, having fun and feeling a value as a human again. Something lost for 7 long years. Danny gifted me that. Without that I know I wouldn't be writing this today. "Always fresh, never frozen" was the tagline in a Domino's read we had to do in the show, something we'd instinctively greet each other with until our last meeting, in a pub, broadcasting for talkSPORT around 3 years ago. I didn't know that time would be the last, but perhaps fittingly we hugged as I left, I'm glad I did. The shows were loved. They were funny, honest, insightful and I hope, along with Saggers after that, proof that Danny's belief in me was worthy. But to say my love for him was only thanks for a job doesn't even scratch the surface. His kindness, his phone calls late at night ( Dan was a notorious night owl) of support, his man hugs, his indomitable spirit, his big brain on anything from football to music to geopolitics, his love, as I know many others will testify, came from the biggest of hearts and the biggest of souls housed in a giant of a man in every sense. Dan, thank you, thank you for the kindness, the fun, the hope, the support and for being someone to look up to and aspire to be. I love you very much, I know I'll hug you again some day. Thank you for everything. "I love football Stan, I love it ".