Stephen Hopcroft, from Birmingham, was a devoted dad, partner, and friend who brought laughter wherever he went. As Head of Recruitment at Aston Villa Football Club, he built a successful career while always making time for his family and friends. In January 2025, after suffering seizures with no warning, Stephen was diagnosed with glioblastoma, an aggressive and incurable brain tumour. Despite undergoing two surgeries, radiotherapy and chemotherapy, his condition gradually deteriorated. He died in July 2026, aged 59. His son, Tom, who lives in Madrid, is taking on the GR11 trail across the Pyrenees to raise money for Brain Tumour Research in his memory.
Here is Stephen's story, as told by his son, Tom...
Dad was one of those people who made everyone feel comfortable the moment they met him. He was incredibly funny and, without doubt, the best storyteller I've ever known. At any party, people naturally gathered around him because he had this unique ability to make everyone laugh, often by gently making fun of them in a way that somehow made them feel included rather than embarrassed. Everybody who met him loved him.
He had a real passion for sport and spent much of his life either playing or watching it. In later years, he loved taking his dog, Hugo, for long walks, travelling whenever he had the chance, and, most of all, spending time with me and my sister, Beth. Alongside all of that, he built a career he was incredibly proud of and became Head of Recruitment at Aston Villa Football Club.
Everything changed in January 2025 when Dad suffered a seizure in his sleep completely out of the blue.
As far as we know, there hadn't been any warning signs beforehand. The seizure lasted for around three hours and was incredibly frightening for Dad because he had no control over what was happening. At Worcestershire Royal Hospital, he had a brain scan while he was still having the seizure, but the image wasn't clear. A couple of weeks later he was called back after doctors spotted a cloudy area they wanted to investigate further. Not long after, Dad was diagnosed with glioblastoma – an aggressive and incurable brain tumour.
Dad approached his diagnosis the only way he knew how: he fought it. He underwent debulking surgery at Warwickshire Hospital to remove as much of the tumour as possible, but the surgical site became infected and he needed a second emergency operation. Afterwards, he had to learn to walk again and continued to experience seizures while doctors worked to find medication that could control them. They frightened him, particularly at the beginning, because he never knew when they might happen or how long they would last.
He later spent around 44 nights at The Harborne Hospital in Birmingham, where he underwent radiotherapy and chemotherapy. Throughout it all he stayed remarkably determined, but as time went on, it became harder to stay positive because every step seemed to bring more bad news.
Even as the tumour affected his mobility, Dad refused to let it define him.
He fought using a walking stick for as long as he could, and when he eventually needed one, he resisted moving to a Zimmer frame just as fiercely. Even when we wanted him to accept more help, he wanted to stay independent for as long as possible. That determination summed up exactly who he was. He was a fighter from beginning to end.
Watching someone you love slowly disappear is incredibly difficult, and I don't think people fully understand the unique pain that comes with a brain tumour. You're living in this strange limbo where you can't properly grieve because the person is still alive, but at the same time, parts of the person you love begin to change. Beth carried so much of that burden because she lived nearby and was with Dad throughout his illness, while I travelled back and forth from Madrid whenever I could.
Dad died in July 2026, around 18 months after his diagnosis. Although we'd known what was coming, nothing can prepare you for losing someone you love. Looking back now, I'm grateful for every moment we had together, and it's those memories that I hold onto most.
There was a time in 2024 when I was completely burnt out with my business and felt this overwhelming urge to skateboard across the length of Spain. I couldn't really explain why, but it became one of the most freeing experiences of my life. One of my favourite memories from that journey came before Dad's diagnosis. After travelling alone for around 35 days, I arrived at a restaurant in Seville expecting to eat by myself, only to find Dad sitting there waiting for me. It was the biggest surprise of my life. He spent a couple of days with me, even had a go on my skateboard, and we squeezed into a tiny Airbnb room together. Looking back, it's probably my favourite memory because it captured exactly who he was. He just wanted to be there with me.
That's why I'm now taking on the GR11 – an 840km trek across the Spanish Pyrenees and one of Europe's toughest long-distance hiking trails – to raise funds for Brain Tumour Research in Dad's memory.
Mountains have always felt symbolic to me. They're peaceful, spiritual places where I can be alone with my thoughts. So much of my work involves constantly being around other people, but this challenge gives me the space to reflect, grieve and honour Dad in a way that feels right for me.
He loved hearing about my adventures and the stories that came from them, and I know he would have loved this challenge too. Completing it while raising money for Brain Tumour Research feels like a way of making sense of everything that's happened. It's something that helps me find peace while hopefully making a difference for other families in the future.
It would mean the world to know that the money raised through this challenge could help improve treatments or even lead to a cure one day. My grandmother also died from a brain tumour, and while we're told they don't usually run in families, you can't help wondering what the future might hold for the people you love. If sharing Dad's story helps move research forward, then that's something I'll always be proud of.
Tom Hopcroft
August 2026
One in three people in the UK knows someone affected by a brain tumour. This disease is indiscriminate; it can affect anyone at any age. What’s more, brain tumours continue to kill more children and adults under the age of 40 than any other cancer yet, to date, just 1% of the national spend on cancer research has been allocated to this devastating disease since records began in 2002.
Brain Tumour Research is determined to change this.
If you have been touched by Stephen’s story, you may like to make a donation via www.braintumourresearch.org/donate or leave a gift in your will via www.braintumourresearch.org/legacy
Together we will find a cure.
