I want no epitaphs of profound history and all that type of thing," said Brian Clough, when asked how he would like to be remembered. "I contributed - I would hope they would say that, and I would hope somebody liked me."

Loved and admired in equal measure, Clough's incredible achievements mean he will never be forgotten.

Whether it is the 267 goals he scored as a prolific striker at Middlesbrough and Sunderland, or the two European Cups he won as a manager at Derby County and Nottingham Forest, Clough's exploits have ensured his place amongst the true footballing greats.

He was one of the best goalscorers the English game has ever seen, and one of the most unique managers ever to take their place in a dug-out. But, to his dying day, he remained one of us.

Born in Valley Road, Middlesbrough, on March 21, 1935, Clough never lost his love of the North-East despite eventually settling in Derbyshire at the end of his illustrious career.

"Middlesbrough has never been the most attractive, picturesque place in the world," he once said. "But to me it was heaven."

It was also the starting point for a story that was eventually to take Clough to some of the greatest footballing arenas in the world.

The village pitch at Great Broughton hardly falls into that category, but it was here that a youthful Clough began his career before signing his first professional forms with his hometown club at the age of 17.

Former Boro legend George Camsell spotted Clough's prodigious talent, but his arrival was put on hold for three years as he served his obligatory National Service in Somerset.

He never made it to the RAF representative team - an oversight that was to foreshadow further disappointments in the future - and, by the time he returned to the North-East, Clough was desperate to overcome his thwarted ambition.

His first full season with Middlesbrough produced 40 goals, with the striker scoring 42 in 42 games the season after that. But, rather than helping Boro sweep all before them, Clough's prodigious strike rate failed to lift the Teessiders out of the Second Division.

Something was wrong and, not for the last time, Clough wasted no time in making sure everybody knew about it.

"I told the manager (Bill Dennison) I was fed up with scoring at one end then watching our defence conceding them at the other," he admitted.

"It was happening on a regular basis and I was totally pissed off. Not even incompetence or crap players could explain the way Middlesbrough were letting in goals."

Dennison's response was to hand Clough the captain's armband - a decision which massaged the player's already considerable ego, but did nothing to unite a dressing room that was rapidly coming apart at the seams.

Clough carried on scoring regardless, eventually notching 204 goals in just 222 games for Boro, but when Sunderland boss Alan Brown met him at Southampton docks in the close season of 1961, one of the most controversial transfers of all time was sealed.

The striker made the short trip up the A19 for the sum of £45,000 and quickly developed the same rapport with the Sunderland fans as he had enjoyed on his native Teesside.

The goals were still as plentiful - 63 in 74 league and cup games for the red and whites - but international recognition remained inexplicably elusive, with Clough winning just two international caps despite being recognised as one of the foremost striking talents in the country.

He was entering his prime at the age of 27 but, on Boxing Day 1962, football was robbed of one of its leading lights.

"That was the day that changed my life," he mused. "Because it changed the knee joint in my right leg."

An abortive three-game comeback failed to resurrect his career, but new Sunderland boss George Hardwick offered Clough a route back into the game as manager of the club's youth team. That decision would eventually alter the landscape of football management.

Clough was an instant success with Sunderland's youngsters - "conceited men like to be looked up to" - and in 1965, at the age of 29, Hartlepools United made him the youngest manager in the Football League.

After appointing former Boro team-mate Peter Taylor as his number two - a partnership that would eventually conquer Europe - Clough set about resurrecting a team that were rooted to the foot of the Football League.

"We had defenders who couldn't defend, strikers who couldn't score, and the only thing the midfield could create was confusion amongst themselves," said Clough, with characteristic bluntness.

But, after guiding Hartlepools to the safety of 18th place and even taking lessons on how to drive the team bus in case he was called upon to save money, Clough still found himself sacked by chairman Ernie Ord.

Most people would have taken themselves out of the limelight to lick their wounds, but Clough opted to stand his ground and, eventually, it was "that horrible little bugger Ord" that went the distance.

Clough and Hartlepools eventually parted company in 1967, with the North-Easterner heading south to take over at Derby County.

Pool were promoted for the first time in their history the next season.

But his impact at the Baseball Gound was immeasurable. He led one of England's most provincial outfits to their first League championship in 1972 and, a year later, guided them to the semi-final of the European Cup.

Brief spells at Brighton and Leeds followed, but it was with Nottingham Forest that Clough was to achieve footballing immortality.

He took over at the City Ground in January 1975 and, in his first five years at the club, guided Forest to a Division One title, two European Cups, a European Super Cup and two League Cups.

But it is Clough's unique managerial style, as well as his considerable achievements, for which he will be remembered.

His numerous idiosyncrasies meant that he stood out in the increasingly homogenous world of football management in the 1980s and '90s.

Discipline was an integral part of the Clough mantra, with the manager paying no attention to reputation as he ruled with an iron fist.

"Without discipline you have no team," he said. "They were never in any doubt about who was boss because I told them myself - there's nothing the matter with a place being run by a dictator - as long as that dictator is me'."

Defender Larry Lloyd was famously dropped after getting onto the team bus without his club blazer, while bitter drinker David Needham was ordered to drink lager at a Forest club function.

"I don't want a lager", argued Needham, to which Clough replied: "You're a lovely lad, you've got a lovely wife, lovely house and a brilliant contract. In life sometimes you have to do the things you don't like - you'll have a lager." Needham had a lager.

Clough was equally as high-handed in his dealings with both the media and the footballing authorities - an approach that ultimately robbed him of the opportunity to lead the England national team.

Instead, he spent 18 successful years at the City Ground, with the final 12 months of his reign providing a sad footnote to one of the greatest careers of all time.

With his drinking slipping out of control - a vice that would eventually lead to life-saving liver surgery in 2002 - Clough was unable to stop his beloved Forest slipping out of the Premiership in 1993.

"When I look at men like Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsene Wenger I know I used to be as good as them, if not better," he reflected recently. "And I sometimes do think to myself, 'I pissed it all up against a wall'.

"I wasted it to some extent by retiring at the time and in the way I did.

"I know in my heart of hearts that if I'd been properly sound, physically and mentally, I could have b een persuaded to carry on for another couple of seasons. It goes without saying that I would have won something in the process."

It also goes without saying that he will be sorely missed. Brian Clough's character was moulded by football, and football will always need characters like Brian Clough.