I’VE known Keith Elvin since I was at junior school, and particularly remember him and John, his older brother, when they lived on Clarendon Street.

They often played football with me, the Mills twins and Barry Thornton, on the Nursery Field on Racecommon Road.

Keith spent a lot of time mating about with the England cricketer and Manchester United footballer, Arnie Sidebottom, who lived on the same street.

This is the true story Keith related to me recently:

Imagine this. It’s the 1970s and Arnie Sidebottom is a dedicated cricketer and I am helping him, in a very small way, to achieve his future fame and success. We’re in his backyard as he practices bowling at three tiny clothes pegs leaning against a wall, like miniature goal posts. When he smashes them down, I reset them. It’s a bit of a thankless task and I get tired of it because his success rate is phenomenal – greater than 50 per cent. Smash, reset; miss; smash, reset; miss; smash, reset; miss…

As we grow older we occasionally go into town for a ‘pub crawl’ but the dedicated Arnie almost always sticks to non alcoholic drinks. Then, one day, while he’s playing in the Manchester United first team he says: “My dad’s not very well, Keith, so he’s had to turn down two complimentary tickets for our next game against Burnley in the FA Cup? Do you and your John fancy taking his place? I’ll take you to the hospitality suite afterwards and introduce you to the players and manager.”

“Players and manager? Seriously? Bring it on!”

Sitting in our posh seats alongside the great and the good, John and I thoroughly enjoy the Man United victory. Later, the Barnsley brothers, Brian and Jimmy Greenhoff, make a big fuss of us in the players’ lounge (Brian went to the same secondary school as Arnie, me and my brother).

A short while later, Stuart Pearson brings us a Coke each, then Lou Macari walks over and asks if this is a Barnsley takeover bid, since there are five of us here, now?

I laugh and reply, “No, we’re not interested in a takeover bid, Lou, but if you’d like to be an honorary Tyke we should be able to fix it.” My brother gives me a dirty-look to indicate I might have over-stepped the ‘being-too-familiar’ mark.

Then Arnie asks the manager, Tommy Docherty, if he’ll please show me and our John around. ‘The Doc’ puts his arm round my shoulders. This is surreal and I really have to pinch myself to realise I’m not dreaming.

“Come on, son, I’ll show you what it’s all about” he says, as he walks us to the top of the players’ tunnel to witness the stadium under floodlights.

“Now it’s Saturday” says The Doc “and the crowd is chanting your name as you walk onto the pitch. Do you think, on hearing this, you can work yourself up for the game?”

I’m in total awe of the great man, as I reply: “Yes, of course, Mr Docherty.”

Then he taps me on the chest, winks and waves his thumb towards the players’ lounge saying: “Well these f**kers can’t” and bursts out laughing.

This might have happened almost 50 years ago but it’s as fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday. I laugh along with The Doc but I’m wise enough not to let on that although I do like United, Barnsley are my first love, and always will be.

This is one of the greatest experiences of my life and I thank the graciousness of Arnold Sidebottom for it.

He never forgets his mates or his roots and he even gives my brother the honour of being his Best Man when he marries Gillian.

I’d love to see the day when Arnie is honoured in his home town in some way. If anyone deserves it, he does…