I remember as a young boy, maybe 10 years old, going down to a rugby match.
We did it regularly, with my brother and my dad.
My dad was a blacksmith by trade, probably one of the strongest men I have ever met.
He would work on that anvil and that steam hammer, all day long, and when I walked into that rugby stadium, next to my dad, holding my hand, and with my brother’s hand on the other side, I felt so secure.
I saw my dad as the strongest man who had ever lived.
If the heavy-weight boxing champion of the world had walked along, I felt like he would have stepped aside when he saw my dad walking down the path.
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