Considering the profound impact David Wilkes had on many generations at Carlisle United, it was appropriate that his funeral was attended – and his memory celebrated – by young, old and all ages between.
The queue of mourners at Carlisle Crematorium gathered early and had grown considerably before the service. There were club directors, old and recent coaching colleagues, players he had nurtured from the 90s onwards, parents of those players, many others with close connections.
As the vehicle carrying David’s coffin came into view, there was another poignant touch. A group of young United academy players lined the road: the kind of children whose futures he gave his professional life to helping.
Across the way, a group of young Blues professionals stood and watched: More Cumbrians. More home-grown lads. More boys who had known and benefited from the special touch of David Wilkes.
As the hearse drew to a stop, a reminder was then presented that, as much as we were here to cherish a football man, we were also to celebrate a family man. A bright red floral tribute, resting against his coffin, spelled the words ‘DAD’ and ‘SON’.
Over the days since the devastating news of his sudden passing at 59, a great many expressions of love and affection have held his memory aloft. Those memories blended with the tears and the sadness at his funeral service.
It was, as his family had intended, a celebration of his life in which all aspects were covered, in a series of readings and songs that were heartfelt and moving, charming and amusing – even profound.
It began, aptly, with The Footballer’s Prayer by Paul Cookson (“Our team, which art eleven, hallowed be thy game…”) and then, from his professional life – though their friendship ran so much deeper – Mick Wadsworth spoke of David Wilkes.
The former Carlisle manager remembered the six-year-old with “lovely blond hair” who used to join his family to watch games at Worsborough Bridge Miners’ Welfare, in their native Barnsley. He remembered working with David the bright teenage player at Barnsley boys and later the town’s football team at Oakwell. He beamed with pride at the two goals he scored on his Barnsley debut against Fulham.
He recalled the coach David became after injury, the “marriage made in heaven” when fate reunited them at Carlisle in the 1990s; a period when David’s youth system produced player after player for Wadsworth’s buccaneering team, many of them going on to higher stardom.
Some of those Cumbrian lads were at the crematorium, listening to the old boss speak: Tony Caig, Paul Murray, Richard Prokas, many more. David, Wadsworth said, was an intuitive, sensitive coach who left his players crystal-clear in his expectations and instructions, and was also an expert in determining which players were ready for first-team promotion and when.
“He fought for his players,” added Wadsworth of his gentle-natured colleague. “If I hadn’t put them in the team, he would knock on my door on Monday to ask why.”
The two men dovetailed at United and, later, at Huddersfield Town, where David was a “stoic” assistant to Wadsworth in tough times – and a humorous one.
“Twenty minutes into a game against Colchester, their fans started singing, ‘Wadsworth is a ******’ – and Huddersfield’s fans started joining in. I turn round, and Wilkesy is there in the dugout laughing his head off.
“’Cheers Dave,’” I said. “’It is funny though,’” he said.
David, Wadsworth said, taught him about the value of prioritising the presence of good players in the youth game above results. Away from the game, he recalled their long and deep conversations about politics, philosophy, religion, economics. He remembered their annual golfing get-togethers, the sense of humour and talent for mimicry that were also unmistakeably David.
“As I was driving up today, I realised this was the first time in 30 years I hadn’t got on the phone and rang David to say, ‘I’m nearly there,’” Wadsworth added.
“He was a great man, a wonderful man,” he concluded, his voice cracking slightly. “And I shall miss him.”
A moment of reflection, both in the main room and the packed overflow room, was filled by Billy Joel’s Piano Man. It was impossible not to hear David belting out his favourite tune in a dressing room, a coaching room or on a physio’s table, a water bottle for a microphone, the showman breaking out of the quiet man. “We’re all in the mood for a melody, and you’ve got us feeling alright…”
Memories of Dave were then shared by his partner Gilly, in an address read by Paul Rheinbach. We heard of their first encounter in a Carlisle bar, and the “lazy, calm,” good-hearted man she grew to love.
“He never walked through the door in a bad mood,” Gilly said. “He was solid, a man’s man, but had a gentle nature.”
Life with David was life with football. He cherished his colleagues, Gilly said, and did not enjoy the time in a youth coach’s life when he must release young players. He had reams of stories about the game, “ate, slept and breathed” it – but had many other passions.
He loved, and worried about, his mum and two daughters. He was adept with a cricket ball, a golf club, was a “daredevil” on a bike and when climbing fells. He was a good cook, told terrible jokes, and had a laser-like focus for the yellow-sticker items in Marks & Spencer: “a true Yorkshireman.”
He would leave crumbs everywhere. “I’ll so miss those crumbs, and the squeeze of his hand,” Gilly added. “My funny soul mate, the love of my life.”
These touching reminiscences were followed by those of his girls, Rebecca and Laura. With remarkable strength they stood beside their dad’s coffin and spoke from the heart. Rebecca promised to remember him always, to do right by him, to pass her driving test for him, to do so much else in his memory. “I love you always and forever,” she said, and the room applauded.
Laura then recalled reading his handwritten notes, and mixed the personal with the profound and the spiritual. “Life is long when you know how to use it,” she said, remembering one of the many lessons David had passed on. “He was always a glass-half-full man, and taught me that today is the day we might experience happiness or wisdom.”
“All I see and hear when I close my eyes,” Laura added, “is that infectious smile and laugh, and that Yorkshire accent: ‘Hiya, love…’”
He would, she added, have been humbled by the number of people who had turned up for his farewell, that immense queue of folk at Carlisle, the number of people whose lives he had affected.
Mourners were told of the charity that would benefit from donations – Street Soccer Foundation, which helps disadvantaged and vulnerable children, a cause which was dear to him. Billy Joel then played again – “I love you just the way you are…” – as the great many people filed out of the crematorium.
They lingered outside to talk about David Wilkes, then went to Foxy’s Restaurant at Brunton Park to remember him some more at the club he helped to transform.
That night, the Blues were back in action in a pre-season friendly at Gretna. Two of their goals were scored by teenagers from the club’s academy.
To support Street Soccer Foundation in David Wilkes' memory, click HERE
*The News & Star's report on the funeral is with the permission of David's family
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