Chris
Chris

Our world here in Orlando has been rocked this week by the very unexpected and wasteful taking of life. We are all in mourning.
Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family and friends during this difficult and painful time. He was, and will always be, one of the people you never forget.
Many of us today are feeling emotions that are awash with shock, pain, hurt and sadness. Emotions that, in time, will be replaced with memories of a good friend and team mate. Chris was a guy with character, a quick whit and a permanent smile. He always entertained with tales of his great adventures, of which there were many.
He will be sadly missed at the pub, and on the field, where he was always guaranteed to give 100% (and usually more!). Only one week ago he scored a cracker of a goal that he relived with us all many times, a goal that apparently would have ensured a trial for his beloved Leeds United. And he was always there to back you up, whether on the pitch or elsewhere, we were always thankful for that.
The whole St. Andrews Family of patrons, players, staff and friends mourn a great loss today, as do so many others who had the fortune to have Chris in their lives, rest in peace mate.
Please leave your thoughts, comments and anecdotes to our beloved and faithful team mate, friend and colleague. The one, and only, Chris Levitt.
As these words make the page, I am sitting at Chris’ desk, seeing fragments of once was, yet still should be. An inventory of clear symbolism fogged only by what drips to my cheek. Seems a shame that the warmest embrace given a person is not always received in life. Bearing witness to your collective embrace, both here and on that heavy Monday, sweetens the bitter. Before some of you, I struggled through a few words in the pub that eve. The stumbling weakness that comes at the crossroads of grief and friendship lost should not be the final punctuation of one’s life. I therefore resubmit what was uttered:
A LAUGH - To the Memory of Chris Levitt
A Laugh
As I think on Chris,
that is what I hear,
He often deserved a gaff,
But more often a cheer
Always at jest, quick with a poke,
He would approach with a dagger
But never the cloak
A scrappy lad
He played bigger than most
To all forms of abrasion
His body the consummate host
Somehow it was his way,
To be in the way of harm
However easy to bruise his ego
You could never his charm
So what is his life?
The sum of his years?
A harsh pour of tragedy
Chased with some tears?
I think not, that too remiss
His joy, his living
We would only dismiss
So think not of the ending,
A life not yet of half,
Rather,
Close your eyes for a moment
And remember the laugh
By Phil Medina
Comment # 16
Phil Medina
May 09, 2007