James was taken from us far too soon, and this club has never been quite the same since. He was one of those rare people who made everything around him better. Not through grand gestures, but through who he was. That warmth, kindness and smile that could light up the coldest changing room, and when he stepped onto that pitch, he left every single piece of himself out there.

Four years on, he is still thought of, still spoken about, still desperately missed. There are moments — a comment, a memory, a glimpse of that number 55 on one of our arms — when it hits all over again. But that's okay, that's love, that's what happens when someone leaves a mark on you.

The 55 we wear on our shirts isn't just a number, it's James. It's a promise that he walks onto every pitch with us, that he's never truly gone, that this club will carry him forward for as long as it exists.

Each year, we award the James Ivison Trophy to what we call the coach's dream player — and it couldn't be more fitting. Because that was James, the ultimate coach's dream. Reliable, committed, selfless. The kind of teammate you'd run through walls for, the kind of friend who made you want to be better.

This weekend, we will play in our black kits or wear black armbands, and will observe a minute's applause before our games. Not silence, because James deserves noise, celebration, and the sound of a club that still loves him.

But beyond that, we honour him the way he would have wanted — by giving everything we have. Every tackle, every sprint, every moment of grit needed when your legs are screaming at you to stop. That's when you think of him, when you dig deeper.

James remains our teammate, our friend, our 12th man

Sleep tight up there, buddy look after Lina. We hope we're making both of you proud, from all of us at the club — you're both still with us, and you always will be. xxx