The new flag flies at half-mast. We have lost a key player, and the gap he leaves is painfully wide. Stuart 'Scoop' Vernon passed away on Friday 20th of September at the age of 84. Since arriving at the club in the early 1970s from his native Staffordshire as a competent and well-schooled scrum-half, Stuart showed on the field, the vitality, composure and temperament which was to define his later contribution from the sidelines.

Formally educated, he became a teacher at Heysham High School, assuming responsibility for the students with complex learning needs. In this role, he was committed, patient, compassionate and a skilled communicator. It was these same qualities which were put to fine use when he became the Press Secretary for the Vale of Lune, a post he held for over forty years. His passion for Rugby, along with his encyclopaedic knowledge of players, opponents, away grounds and the intricacies of the game, made him a valuable and reliable source of reference to those who couldn't quite remember some detail of yesteryear.

As match reporter, he chose to put his own stamp on the role, regularly forsaking the blazer and tie for sportwear, in particular, cycling gear. He would arrive, having negotiated the lanes from Bolton-le-Sands, bedecked in black leggings, cycle helmet and a yellow day-glo jacket, with his trusty reporter's notepad and pen tucked into the rear pocket. He may have resembled a highlighter pen on two wheels, but his personal authority remained intact. Quite how he always got home on said bicycle, remains blurry.

Stuart's mastery of the written word became the stuff of legend. He marshalled the disparate elements of the English language like an orchestra conductor. For those unable to attend a match, a glimpse at the Lancaster Guardian's sports pages could transport the reader back to the game, capturing the highs and lows with aplomb, as though he was standing on the terrace with Scoop. Whilst maintaining his journalistic integrity, he was a Vale man throughout. If a player had a bad day on the pitch, Scoop would report the facts, but always find the words to encourage, never to apportion blame for an individual's disappointing performance. He believed that words of encouragement did far more good than a flogging.

In the late 1990s Stuart served as Club President. He was a superb ambassador for the Vale, and this season, so many years later, visiting officials still come to the Vale asking where he is. Another role in which he excelled was officiating at Vale funerals. His eulogies were written and delivered with impeccable poise and dignity, maintaining stoic composure when those around him were overcome with grief. With his melodic, warm and sonorous voice, he could find the right note to impart humorous anecdotes of teammates past, without risking offence to the nearest and dearest.

In recent times, relieved from matchday reporting, Scoop continued to write, recording the antics and foibles of the Alicadoos in journal form for publication on the website. He renamed many of the Vale's characters as he thought fit, even it they already had a nickname in common use. With all epithets attributed, his articles told of the larks and japes of the mature bracket of the club's membership. It was a comic strip for the 21st century. Working out who he was talking about was an easy code to break.

Stuart's presence in the clubhouse, on the terrace, on the coach and around the table of the elders has been reassuring, influential, constant and above all, fun! He has been a shining example of how to contribute to a community, to give more than you take, bringing people together, leading the laughter and sending everyone home, thankful that they had been in his company. When the funeral arrangements are announced we will gather to celebrate Scoop, his considerable contribution to the Vale and the happiness he radiated there for fifty years. On that day, we may feel a lump in the throat, or a tear in the eye. That is normal, so don't fight it. It will soon make way for the laughs.

Goodbye Scoop, and thank you.

Ave Atque Vale.