Patrick Stoddart, who has died aged 79, enjoyed a career of rare and remarkable variety. Enjoyed is very much the operative word, for if anyone could be said to have had journalism in the blood, it was Patrick.
In a shift spanning more than 60 years, he began as a school leaver on his local weekly, moved through Fleet Street into radio and television presenting, and in his later years passed on the knowledge he had accumulated to students at the University of Westminster.
In all the facets of his working life, and through his twin passions for rugby and cricket, he gathered countless friends. His ready laugh, wry humour and infectious enthusiasm will be sorely missed.
Patrick was born to an Irish mother and Scottish father in Watford on November 23rd, 1944 and educated at the local grammar school. He began his newspaper career as a trainee at the Watford Observer, later moving on to the Evening Echo.
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This was the height of the ‘60s music revolution and the young Patrick not only wrote about emerging bands but befriended and even managed a few. None of his charges quite made the big time but he often recounted being present when The Zombies – a local group who did – recorded their smash-hit single, ‘She’s Not There’.
His next berth was the Evening News, then London’s best-selling evening paper. After it closed in late 1980, he freelanced for a time before joining The Sunday Times, where he spent several years as the paper’s TV critic. His columns were always witty, often sardonic, never cruel.
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Patrick worked widely in the broadcast media as well as writing about it, featuring on various shows on BBC and ITV and co-presenting the Saturday morning Radio 4 travel programme Breakaway, where his deep, gravelly voice sometimes betrayed a rather late Friday night.
Following a spell as a media consultant, during which he helped launch Virgin Radio and the international Newsworld conference, he turned his talents to academia, lecturing in journalism at the University of Westminster, where his students came from many countries.
He was immensely proud to teach them and made their welfare his concern, especially those who were far from their families. They were often invited to a square meal and some home comfort chez Stoddart.
Outside work, Patrick had a deep and abiding love of sport. As a career tailender with the Fleet Street Strollers cricket team, he made up for modest natural ability with a certain élan.
Always immaculately turned out, he would take guard on or slightly outside off stump, obscuring as much of the wicket from the bowler as possible, presumably in the hope he might forget where it was. Scoring runs was very much secondary to survival.
He once had a televised net with the former England women’s captain Rachel Heyhoe Flint, who had confidently declared that anyone could be taught to bat. Fifteen minutes with Patrick made her change her mind.
At rugby, he was an exemplary captain of the Old Fullerians veterans, aka the All Stars. Half-time oranges were accompanied by champagne, followed by another bottle or two in the changing rooms after full-time.
Patrick played hooker for the All Stars well in to his sixth decade, sometimes to the anxiety of his team-mates. In one match, as the front rows packed down, one of his props was heard to warn the opposition: ‘Be careful! Patrick’s neck has the breaking strain of a Kit-Kat.’
He is survived by Nicki, his wife and inseparable companion and confidante of 45 years. As his respiratory and other problems worsened, she also became a devoted carer.
Patrick bore his ill-health with stoicism and typical gallows humour. He was a much-loved character, who will be deeply mourned by those fortunate enough to have known him.
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