In memory of Jonathan Linnett (LGB, 2004)
The Alumni Office is very sad to share the news of the death of Jonathan Linnett (LGB, 2004) at only 37. We were informed by Dean C. Soldatos (LGB, 1983) who played rugby with him at the Hermance Rugby Club. You can access the obituary here.
Dean shared the tribute below:
« Miss you Jonathan Linnett, Class of 2004, gone at 37. Your darling wife Lauren Linnett allowed me to post.
The picture above is spring 2003, Jonathan Linnett and I Dean C. Soldatos side by side (upper right standing row next to coach)
You're a hero to me and a fighter to the end. You went through 30 rounds of chemo. That's how tough you are.
I can’t find the words so I’ll just go with a stream of consciousness.
Last night on 22-2-22, twenty of us from the Hermance Rugby team got together for a big dinner in Geneva and, erm, “session”. (nota bene 4 LGB'ers present). Jon’s name came up again and again. We did “glasses up” at the times 20:02, 20:22, 22:02 and 22:22 (European style clock). There was a lot of talk about Jon, intertwined amongst the inevitable memories of a merry band of brothers who shed blood together almost twenty years ago (1993-2005).
I love this kid! 23 years separate us and we were both LGB'ers and more relevant, I was at the very, very twilight of my rugby playing career at hooker. One fine day, Jon sauntered up at 15yo with four other high schoolmates (Alex Kimmins, Peter Ashe, Simon Newell and Giuliano Giannuzzo). We integrated them immediately into the junior team and as they got more involved, we migrated them to the B Team (we’re still talking a senior men’s side of a Swiss national club, playing vs grown men). All these kids ended up on the A-Team.
Jon stood out – he was amazing. Quickly he was thrust right into the deep end, and he was uncommonly good. First team material, even at 17.
I read below some of his mates (eg George and Leopold) calling him “Tank” (I know!) and reminiscing “taking on 8 Germans and knocking them on their a*s" and I have my own similar story.
Anyhow, me, as an ageing grizzled B-Team player, shepherded a few of the younger kids (including getting them home to their parents at night after practice), which means I played a lot with Jon, me at 39yo, him at 16yo. It was an HONOR every time, as we were tightly bound together side by side, morally and physically (front row of rugby). Never did I feel safest than when playing with Jon.
There is so much to say and my head is still spinning at this news. All of the tributes on his page (go check them) and I will add this:
Memory time: the date was the 16th November 2002 and our B Team reached a Swiss Federation Cup final; we were playing a strong team from Fribourg, with ominous black shirts, up in Yverdon in some lost quasi-potato field. It was a cold, miserable, grey November day … nasty, non-stop rain and muddy; we were playing in puddles of water and mud. We're talking trench warfare.
I was nervous as sh*t, as this was likely one of my last hurrahs as a competitive player on a roster. And in a final!
But: Jon was my prop. All was good.
We held it together and managed to be leading only 5-0 in the middle of the second half. We dug up a loose ball about 10 meters out from the try line but were bungled up 5 meters towards a corner. This should in theory be “easy” to defend; the defence only has one dimension to worry about (you push the ball carrier to the sideline out of bounds). But aha! Jon was there. The ball was moved around, and Jon took it and crashes into three-four players of the opposing team, amongst them a 6ft6 hulk of a 2nd row (must’ve weighed 130kg?) … and I thought OK, this is going to be interesting.
Ball in hand, Jon, with calm but ferocious aplomb, barrels into the massed pile of black shirts (we wore red) and knocked over their biggest guy … and we all piled in and latched on to fearless Jon (who still had the ball) and we nudged and wrestled and ended up scoring the try (meaning Jon did). It wasn’t the winning score at that moment but it took all the wind out the opponents’ sails: their heads hung low after that. They just got *owned*.
My lasting image of this single vignette of memory was Jon surging forward, almost in slow motion, in this rainy, muddy marsh, and the 6’6’ hulk in the opposition knocked back, his feet up the air, falling back --airborne!—and the heaped wreckage of the opposition in a pile which Jon practically single-handedly blew back (with a teeny bit of help from me and the lads). Jon comes up, his face smeared in mud, clutching the ball with a quiet grin, but modestly holding back his obvious glee.
I do not recall if that was his first try scored for the club, his 5th or his 25th. Que nenni! It was the one that mattered a lot to him, and I was right there with him, my fingertips on the ball, my bruised body bound to his in painful, filthy, rugby ecstasy. We had “shared” scoring a try (but I give him full credit). We won the damn national Federation Swiss Cup! Final score 17-0.
I shared that moment with him and to this day I think about it, will carry it to my grave.
Love you, Jon. Lovey you too Lauren and your whole family. Reach out to me for anything you need. I am far away but I care. I want to meet you all someday.
LGB 76-82
Hermance Rugby Club 93-who knows??”