I was 12. My dad played cricket for a village club, and at that age I always went along, wherever he was playing, as did Mum.
On Tuesdays he helped coach players from Guildford tech; there were a couple who lived in Farnham, Eric and Richard.
I got to know both of them, but Eric in particular was nice; considering I was 12 and he was a cool 18 he always bothered to talk to me, proper conversations.
Then he went to university in Sheffield, but I'd see him occasionally in town and he'd always stop to chat.
At 15 I started going to one of the pubs in town, and it was the same one he and his mates went to, so I'd see him again, whenever he was home.
He played table football (national doubles champion! - he was on Nationwide
) and taught me; we used to win all our evening's drinks
With or without girl/boyfriends, we were best mates; we played table football, I'd practise my cooking on him - he'd come round for dinner then give me a lift into town before going our separate ways...drive me (too fast) into London on a Saturday.
All the time I was working in London (5-6 years) we'd sometimes see each other on the train; he taught me how to do 'proper' crosswords, we'd meet for a drink in London...
We did go out with each other but briefly; I adored him but he had big ambitions and wasn't about to be tied down, and I realised I preferred him as the big brother I'd always wanted.
Never really lost contact; he worked all over the world but even when we were both married would still would go to the same pubs in Farnham, so we still saw each other and would have long talks.
Fast forward a few years and his world came crashing down; he lost his business, virtually all his money, house, flash cars, a lot of friends, his wife...
By then I was living alone; he moved to a tiny flat on the coast (thanks to one of his loyal friends), he'd come to my flat or I'd go to his for odd weekends.
We were still best mates.
Then he moved to Las Vegas for a couple of years to help someone with their business and I visited him there...which was when it became apparent that his previously pretty well-controlled drinking had escalated hugely.
We stayed friends; he met Bb and they got on, when he came back from the US he even moved down near us for a while...but the drinking and associated problems won in the end.
Everything you read about alcoholics is true; unless they really want to help themselves, there is no hope.
We were still in touch, on and off, but it would never be the same.
I had the phone call I'd been dreading three years ago, he died from acute liver failure.