Not Raving But Drowning (15/7/13)

You're probably wondering how our Tom came to be saved from drowning by a European Cup winning ex-England international.

We were on holiday in Rhodes (should that be 'on' Rhodes as its an island?)

Not recently, quite some time ago, 2001 to be exact. It was the holiday where Matty was only 9 months old and wasn't comfortable with the heat, wasn't happy about the idea of eating or drinking and wouldn't sleep; the holiday where I spent my time either pushing him along the seafront to try and lull him to sleep or carrying him round so that he could touch the trees. He was very big on touching trees.

Tom had a great desire to jump into the deep end of the pool and we spent a great deal of time persuading him that this wasn't a good idea.

Why can't I go in the deep end, he would ask.

Because you're four we replied.

To this he returned the quite brilliantly existential query; Why am I four?

There's no answering that one. The deep end of the pool? That will be returned to shortly.

We'd been there a couple of days when I swam past this bloke in the pool. That, I thought to myself, looks like Jimmy Case.

Jimmy Case; fabled hard man of Liverpool's late seventies/early eighties side; won the league four times, the European Cup three times and the UEFA cup once, had a hell of a shot, took no prisoners.

I passed him again the next day in the bar and spotted the giveaway, tell tale sign; two hearing aids, Case was famously hard of hearing. That, I assured myself, is quite definitely Jimmy Case.

Over the next few days we spent a fair bit of time in close proximity to Jimmy Case and his wife. We chatted to his wife quite a bit, Jimmy kept himself very much to himself, a quiet bloke. There was a day when his wife told us that they'd been down the road to Faliraki the night before, went to a bar called Jimmy's 'because his name's Jimmy' while I sat there biting my lip, stopping myself from from saying 'I know, I know his names Jimmy, he's Jimmy CASE, HE'S JIMMY F***ING CASE!'

I didn't. I managed to retain a little dignity. I was in awe. J, an Evertonian through and through, not so much although she thought his wife was lovely.

Anyway, there was this morning; we were walking to the pool, J was following me with all the baggaged paraphernalia that a family with two small children requires, I was pushing the buggy with Matty in it, Tom was walking alongside me.

Until he wasn't. Until he was hurtling down the steps toward the pool as I attempted to manhandle the buggy down those same steps. Until he was reaching the edge of the pool at a terrifying velocity. Until he arrived at the lip of the deep end. And kept on going, a four year old hitting the deep end of a Greek swimming pool. A four year old who couldn't swim a single stroke.

At which point Jimmy Case stood up, moved swiftly to the edge of the pool, dived gracefully in and pulled my four year old son from the water.

And that is how Jimmy Case saved our Tom from drowning.