I have always found that when life delivers something you are not quite ready to face, I write. Writing, for me, is a way of trying to make sense of something that does not yet make sense. It slows everything down, even if only for a moment. It gives me somewhere to put the devastation and right now, I feel nothing but.
Yesterday, I lost a dear friend to a tragic accident here in Salzburg, Alex Manninger.
I had known Alex for six years. Six years that, when I look back now, feel both full and far too short. We were introduced by a mutual friend shortly after I had made the move to my home on the German/Austrian border. That period of my life came with its own challenges, losing my job in Qatar during the global pandemic which forced a reset I had not planned for but somewhere in that uncertainty, I was introduced to Alex and his lovely wife Emily. From the very beginning, everything clicked
From the off there was an ease to it, a shared understanding, helped in no small part by our connection to Arsenal. Alex, of course, as a professional goalkeeper and me having been involved with the club’s charity side, The Arsenal Ex-Pros & Celebrity XI. Football was the starting point, but it quickly became clear there was more to it than just that. What struck me immediately upon meeting him for the first time was his calmness. Alex was grounded, understated, and completely without ego, he was so normal. I loved that about him.
I had my kids with me that day, and what stood out was the way Alex and Emily took a genuine interest in them and the thing is, their lives had been turned upside down as much as mine had at that point, different circumstances, of course, but the same sense of life not quite going to plan and yet, despite that, they gave their time, their attention, and their warmth so freely.
Over the weeks that followed, we spent more and more time together, sometimes it was a round of golf, other times just a coffee and a chat. Alex was building his family home at the time, he was a carpenter by trade, and I was just as interested in house renovations as he was. He would regularly send me updates on the build; the finished product is incredible. I could see how proud he was of that project.
At one point, Alex asked me if I would help him explore opportunities in television. Given my background, it felt like a natural thing to do, and I was genuinely excited at the prospect. I knew what he had achieved in the game, the experiences he could bring, he spoke three languages after all, and the insight he could offer so we gave it a go, but it did not take long to realise something that, in hindsight, says everything about the man he was. I do not think Alex was suited to television punditry. Not because he lacked knowledge or presence, far from it, but because he was, quite simply, too nice.
He did not have it in him to criticise a fellow goalkeeper or tear into someone’s performance for the sake of a headline or a reaction. In a media landscape that often thrives on opinion, click-bait and, at times, negativity, Alex just was not built that way, and I mean that as the highest compliment, he stayed true to himself. He did not fall into the trap that so many do today. I am incredibly proud of him for that. We both knew that it was not the right path, so we stepped away from it. What mattered to Alex was simple, his family, his time and his life away from the spotlight. There was something incredibly grounding about that. In a world where so many feel the need to be seen, to be heard, to be validated, Alex was the complete opposite. He was content just being. It tells you everything you need to know about him when I tell you he had no social media channels. He could not care less. I find it so admirable.
A few years into our friendship, I went through a period of illness that, if I am being honest, was one of the most difficult chapters of my life and through that, Alex was a constant. He would come and visit me in hospital whenever he could and when he could not make it, he would message to check-in on me. Knowing he was there in the background, that was enough for me. Like many of my friends at that time, he kept me going.
There’s something else I keep coming back to as I sit here writing this, another example of who Alex was, not just to me, but to my family. My eldest son, Lennox, had the opportunity to go for a football trial at SV Grödig, the local club where Alex had been working as a goalkeeping coach. It’s a club that means a lot out here. Outside of Red Bull Salzburg, they have built one of the strongest youth setups in the region and for us, it carried even more meaning, given it’s the village where his mum grew up.
Without hesitation, Alex made it happen and Lennox did not want to let him down. He came through the trial and earned his place at a club that now means so much to him. I will now remind him every time he goes training or plays that Alex was instrumental in making this happen and he now has to work harder than ever to make the grade, not just for his sake but more importantly, for Alex. I want Alex to be proud, I need him to be proud.
Yesterday, everything changed. I found out the news through a good friend who sent me a link to a story online. At first, I did not believe it. I had only spoken to Alex the day before, we were arranging to meet for a coffee on the Friday, we were laughing as he was telling me how he was being dragged off to XXX Lutz, this huge furniture store out here, to go shopping. It was such a normal conversation.
I read the story once, then again and then a third time, trying to make sense of what I was actually looking at. It did not register. His car had been hit by a train on an unmanned level crossing just outside Salzburg. This cannot be happening. I do not even know why, but I picked up the phone and called him hoping he would answer but of course, he did not. I also called Emily but there was no answer. Then came the messages, friends asking if I had seen it, asking if it was true. That’s when it started to sink in, Alex had died. I went completely numb and broke down.
I will never forget him. Right now, all I want is to be there for Emily and the kids. Alex was so kind, so genuine. He loved nature, he loved his life. I’m going to miss him terribly. I needed to write this because this hurts, it really hurts. Why is it always the good ones? I do not understand it. I don’t think I ever will.
Alex will leave a huge void, in the life of his wife Emily, his two beautiful children, his mum, and in the lives of so many teammates and friends who were lucky enough to know him.
Rest easy, lad. Love you.