Michael Edward Smith (Mike) (16 Oct 1975 - 21 Sep 2018)

Remembering the happy days.

Remembering happy times

To a top bloke and inspiration to us all.

Where to start ? Listening and reading other's accounts of you Mike, it is clear that we could all write a book that could be summed up as 'You are well loved, you are inspirational, you will be forever in our hearts'. We have the most wonderful memories and whilst your passing has caused unbearable sadness - know that each and everyone of us are so much richer for having you in our lives. Thank you and of course YNWA. xx

Donations made at Michael's Requiem Mass on Monday.

After hearing about Mike’s passing I looked through photo’s from all our times together. It struck me that although they show me a time and a place none of them captured the wicked sense of humour or range of emotions that I remember him for. He was simply one of the funniest and most expressive people I’ve ever known but the pictures don’t tell that story so I’m going to try now. Forgive the clumsiness of my writing.

My Mucka Mike
Not long after I first met Mike in ‘96 I spun him around the floor at a Union disco.
Next morning, in the sober light of day, I sheepishly asked if we were alright?
He fixed me with a long stare and said, “what were you playing at lad?”
And after a silence and a long look into his face, he chuckled,
and that was the first time I clocked the wrinkles round his eyes.

Mike introduced me to the Anfield and took me to my first derby in the Kop.
It played out to a draw… a result for the bluenoses I was led to believe.
He then steered me across Stanley to The Park which was all new to me.
A mouser in a red top was quite a spectacle and I wasn’t overly comfortable,
and the whole time there was a twinkle in his eyes.

We went to Moscow and watched Owen smash in three.
We caught the subway at one point and predictably there was no lift.
Midway we stopped for a breather, Mike wasn’t no feather.
When roubles got dropped in Mike’s hand by passer-by, a fraction of his day’s pay,
the indignation was plain to see by width of his eyes.

Also in Moscow Ken Hennigan lost his passport and was almost stuck at the airport.
Watching him speak English loud and slow into a hole in the wall was priceless,
and as the minutes ticked away, Ken’s English got louder and slower
I could barely stand from laughing. Mike was having trouble breathing,
and his eyes were moist with humour.

In Vegas we watched Lewis robbed by Holyfield but the fun was in the casinos.
Mike loved to game more than most, and the free JD and cokes were flowing.
In the early hours an Irish fella put hundred on red and patted Mike’s head.
He won, and did the same for the next 2 winning spins. He tipped Mike 100,
but Mike was spitting insults with his eyes he just couldn’t see.

Keeping the gaming theme going I was with him at the last game of a season.
There was nothing to play for and a Liverpool win should’ve been a foregone conclusion.
I’d suspected something amiss when t’other team went up in first half but Mike stayed stum.
Liverpool came back in the end and at the final whistle he admitted he’d put 600 at 1-2 odds,
but the creases around his eyes told me as much long before that.

These are memories from the first few years I knew Mike, and I have many more.
Jokily threatening to stab a huge uncle and his 3 large lads round a table at my sister’s reception for which he was loved by my whole family.
A 24 hour round trip to New York for which I felt terrible but Mike weathered stoically and never gave me grief for.
I’ve never met anyone who saw the funny side as quickly, complained as little and loved life as much as Mike.
He was at all times a proper top bloke! RIP Mike you were one of the best!!

RIP Mike, you'll be sorely missedxx

Love you Liz so sorry x