The wives you have interviewed appear to be normal well-balanced girls, who, while enjoying a lifestyle a little above some of their peers, managed to avoid some of the pitfalls that their counterparts encounter today.

I take pleasure in noting that your choice of Ann West, coincides with an article that I have currently running,"Favourites aren't always the best" I look forward to your next submission, and who knows it might be a case of great minds think alike.

He'd long left Blackpool for Everton when the Blackpool family - knowing I was a mad Evertonian – always swung it that I could meet him as, of course, his wife Ann's family lived there.

The first meeting with Gordon I was in absolute awe of the man. He was an imposing figure – a very handsome man. And he couldn't have been more charming, amusing and tolerant of a dumbstruck kid.

One of my most precious possessions at that time was (correction – IS!) a personally signed photo of him (that HE arranged) in match play, a classical full-stretch keeper's pose, captured in mid-flight.

That photo is nigh on 50 years old now. I came across it 2-3 years back and although the ink has faded, you can still just about see the etched message and signature.

On more than one occasion, he also provided me and me dad match day tickets which we would collect directly from him at the players entrance.

It was painful to learn of how he fell on hard times later in life, but as ever Everton (and Labby in particular) acted as his saviour.

A wonderful, WONDERFUL man and GREAT goalkeeper...and I for one can understand how 'Ole John' picks him as his 'favourite' keeper in all his years of watching Everton over (possibly) the better Neville Southall.

I used to nag Gordon for anecdotes and I'll share two, both of which highlight howmuch has changed since the 1960s.

Firstly, when I asked about his medical (as the most expensive goalie in the world), Gordon just laughed. He explained that the club doctor had an office at the top of a flight of stairs. He asked Gpordon to run down and then back up. He listened to Gordon's heart with his stethoscope and said "You've passed" !

Secondly, I asked why 'keepers in the 1960s never seemed to wear gloves. Gordon said that they did, but only if it was very wet or exceptionally muddy. However, there were no specific goalkeeper gloves but Gordon wore gentleman's gloves he bought from Greenwoods the gents outfitters on the corner of Church Street and Whitechapel. Mid season he would approach the club secretary to ask for a new pair. He was told "Buy them but get a receipt". With a grin Gordon told me "They cost ten bob but I asked the girl for a receipt made out for 12s 6d and I then went and had two pints in the Caernarvon Castle on Everton". Can't imagine Jordan Pickford doing that, can you ?

Like many old pros Gordon was never bitter about the money he would have earned today. I also asked him what his thoughts were when Peter Bonetti's mistakes in the 1970 World Cup quarter final virtually knocked England out. Rather than slag Bonetto off or say how he would have saved the Germans' shots, with disarming modesty Gordon just said "I just thanked God I hadn't made those mistakes".

A true gentleman, sorely missed.

As you say, of fans of his generation, me included, it is easy to see why John McFarlane, Sr. would classify him as his "favourite" goalkeeper although we would all agree, I think, that Neville was a better goalkeeper. Between Gordon and Neville between the sticks, after Andy Rankin, we had wee Georgie Wood (who I thought was a decent keeper, also signed from Blackpool), then a succession of "not so good, Hodge, Dai the Drop, Lawson, McDonough, Arnold (who wasn't bad). Thankfully Big. Nev. came along.

I remember him saying he hated playing at Molyneux because of the crowd immediately behind the goal pelting stuff at him. He hated playing against Ray Crawford of Ipswich.

One of the incidents he remembered at Goodison was when Crawford handled a ball in Maradona style to score at the Street End in 1969. Gordon went mad, as did the crowd. The referee, a Mr Fussey, ignored Gordon's protests. We drew 2-2 after Alan Ball missed a penalty in the last couple of minutes.

As mentioned earlier ,his save at Molineux was unforgettable. I think that was a cup tie too?

I was a goalie and modelled myself (badly) on Westy. As has been said, no proper goalies gloves in those days but goalies still seemed to be able to catch the "casey".

Legend has it that in the Newcastle game you reference, Gordon had the gall (or, more likely, the wicked humour) when the team returned to the dressing room after the final whislte to berate Sandy for not saving the penalty awarded when the keeper got sent off!

Lovely, lovely fellah.

Didn't St John bring a handbag on for Westy one game?

Can't quite remember what Westy gave to him, maybe a dig in the face.

Don't think it was St John who brought the handbag on for Westy, my memory (fading a little), but I believe it was at a derby game, when a spectator at the kop end ran onto the pitch before the game, and handed it to Gordon. I'm sure I was at the same game.

In those days, it was quite the 'norm' for crowds to question a player's sexuality, not sure how the pink fluorescent boots and hairbands would be viewed today?

Another thing he used to do was when he came out and went into the goal to warm up he'd jump up and pull the bar down ! How it never broke I'll never know.

Talking of St.John I remember his missus, Betty, had a hairdressers in County Road, a white fronted shop with her name etc in bright red. If we walked to the match along Great Homer Street rather than the "top" way along Netherfield Road we would invariably have to negotiate the glass window, on the pavement, which some lads, every other Saturday afternoon, would put in.

As far as I recall it wasn't a racist gesture at all and was accepted in good grace by Ian St John who also appears to be a top bloke despite being a red. If I'm making this up, then I'm either losing it or have a very vivid imagination.

Can't see any reference to it on the internet, so, I'm relying on the other old gits on here to confirm or put me right!

I believe I was at that game as well, I'm sure it was when St John was playing for a different club, I seem to recall it was Coventry City.

I don't think he accepted it with 'good grace' though, seemed to remember he threw it back at the lad who threw it from the Gwladys Street?

Why is it I can't remember what happened last week, but I can recall vividly seemingly minor incident's from games that took place over 40 years ago?

Nurse, where's my tablets?

Sadly, the incident with the banana could be construed as a racist gesture, the chant from Evertonians at the time was "St John is a monkey, oohh, oohh"

Thankfully, we live in different times now.

Better watch my five and out.

If memory serves me well St John had the last laugh because he scored in a 2-1 win for Coventry.

I'm off now to watch the second half of the Manchester United Game. Best Wishes. John.

You're right, I remember the incident now, still not sure he was very happy about it...

So I suppose in today's times there would be outrage at both incidents – one a homophobic gesture and the other racist.

My uncle Tommy was from the Cabbage Hall area of Anfield.

I bumped into Westy, and came out worse off, on quite a few occasions in the Raven in Waterloo back in the late 70s. We had a mutual affection for the original imported Stella Artois they served there. Didn't talk much about football, got the feeling that was done. Time to chill and enjoy freedom.

A big, burly and gregarious man, I think the straight shooting Yorkshireman never left his side. A pleasure to have shared his company.

He was an ardent Everton fan and he, my Granddad, and five uncles sowed the seeds that resulted in me being what I am today.

I may have told you that when my Mother died I (along with my brother and two sisters) moved from Everton Road to live with my Grandparents in Anfield.

Every Saturday night when they returned from the pub, I would sit enthralled, listening to tales of former players, so much information, and as an 11-year-old boy, I couldn't get enough football.

My teacher once said that, if I took as much interest in my school work as I did in football, I could go to university; I think he over estimated me.

I had been attending games two years before my Mother died in 1950; in actual fact, she passed away four days before the semi-final against Liverpool at Maine Road.

How did we get from the power station at Clarence Dock to Maine Road in Manchester?

I always wondered why the Everton keeper in those days always wore black shorts when the rest of the team wore white?

Thanks for a lovely article.