There's Only One Gary Speed

When I first heard the news of the death of Gary Speed my first reaction was one of disbelief, followed swiftly by shock, and then immense sadness.

Natural human curiosity then took over as I wondered how this could have happened. Surely it must have been an accident, perhaps a car accident, an horrendous pile up on the motorway. That would have been shocking but well within my capacity to understand. 

Failing an accident, perhaps then it was one of those situations where someone in apparent good health collapses and dies from a previously unknown condition that suddenly strikes. That would have been equally tragic, but again well within my capacity to understand.

When the news emerged that Gary Speed had committed suicide I was shocked beyond belief. I just couldn't - along with everyone else who's commented on this tragic death - understand why a man, who had so much to live for, should suddenly take his own life. 

I didn't know Gary Speed, I'd never met him, I'd never been in the same room as him, although as a Leeds United supporter I'd seen him play many times. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he plays football though, and he'd always struck me as a decent, honest, caring man. 

It's always shocking when someone feels they've reached the point in their particular situation where death is the only way out.  There will have been a reason why he took the course of action he did but it may well be a reason that nobody else will understand.

It has been said that Gary had everything, a beautiful wife, two lovely children. A successful career as a manager beckoned to surpass perhaps, even the one he'd enjoyed as a player. In the final analysis though, it matters naught if a man has everything but lacks the thing he needs most: a reason to live.