D'Arcy Waldegrave: Rest easy Phil Gifford, you'll be missed

This week a colleague and a friend passed away. Death is a constant for us all, and as I age, existence feels more and more like a dash through sniper's alley. I accept mortality for the most part, but in some cases, the death of someone can have an unexpected effect on you. I sound cold I know, but I have a fairly calm acknowledgement of the inevitable.   

Phil Gifford was a titan of sports broadcasting, of sports journalism. He also crushed commercial music radio. Phil's passing punched me on the nose when I woke up to the news. He wasn't a dear friend, a family member, or a part of my close inner circle, so the state of flux I found myself in that day was a little unexpected to say the least. I contemplated and questioned it all, all day. Why?   

Phil was a constant in my life. A comfortable pair of jeans, a weathered pair of sneakers, an inviting and satisfying pint to be looked forward to and savoured. He was Loosehead Len. He was a music critic, a writer, a biographer, a warm and joyous voice on the wireless and a constantly uplifted and uplifting presence in the New Zealand media landscape.  Even as he slowed down his vast contribution across media platforms, we still spoke every couple of months, for what was invariably a healthy length of time. Giff loved a yarn. He willingly shared a bottomless pit of crazy stories from his decade's long engagement in sport. I loved those chats  

He was almost paternal to me as I staggered through the vagaries of sport broadcasting. As the years passed, I came to know him as a mate and I'm grateful to know he felt the same about me.   

His life was a positive force for so many people. He felt like family, as was his perpetual presence across NZ's media spectrum.   

I'll always remember him as a guy who loved sport, but he loved the people in sport the most.   

I'm going to doff my cap to him every year by taking up his tradition of putting 100 bucks on the Crusaders at the start of the Super Rugby season.  

Rest easy big fella, you'll be missed.