WILLIE Maddren was only four years older than me. As a young man in the early 1970s, I stood on the terraces at Ayresome Park and watched him - enviously - many a time. He was a local lad made very good.

Middlesbrough then were a team to be reckoned with. Under Jack Charlton, they won the Second Division by a country mile in 1974 and then took on the First Division (now called the Premiership), finishing seventh in their first season.

Willie's central defensive partner was Stuart Boam who was tall and strong. Boam was a good captain and a good solid stopper. Maddren was different. He always stood out. He was always in control. He had a great football brain and, with an old head on his young shoulders, he looked as if he were born to play the beautiful game beautifully.

How he never received full international recognition for England is beyond anyone who ever saw him.

You could see from the terraces that he was a gentleman on the pitch - not a kicker nor a hacker. And I had seen him around town a few times as well and knew him to be a gentleman off the field too. I remember once when I was a little short of money that he knocked 50p off a pair of football shorts that I bought from his shop. He was one of life's good guys.

Often we say - indeed, I have said it several times in this column - that football players should be an example to youngsters. Willie Maddren was that example: not arrogant nor a big head, just a really nice down-to-earth fellow.

When a person contracts a terrible illness like motor neurone disease, I believe they either fight it or they fold. Willie would never fold. You could see that in the determined way he played football.

Rather than accept the inevitable, he was determined to continue to contribute to society as much as he could. He might have become well-known in this area for his football, but he became famous for his commitment to charity work. So far, his fund for research into MND has raised more than £200,000.

I last met Willie Maddren about eight weeks ago. I have received my fair share of publicity of late and, rather than being an anonymous fan from the terraces, he knew I was suspended from the police.

But I wanted to talk about him and his place in my footballing memories. Through his brother, I had 20 minutes of really good crack with him. I even had him giggling when I recalled seeing Boam unable to decide whether he was going to kick or head a ball, and ending up doing both simultaneously.

Yet he was far more interested in me, in my suspension and how I and my family were coping than he was in himself. He was dying, yet only cared for my welfare.

I can understand exactly what his wife Hilary meant when she said in yesterday's paper: "Willie touched the lives of everyone who ever met him - he was a wonderful man and my best friend."

He was a friend of a lot of people. He was sincere and genuine. When I walked away after my 20 minutes with him, I realised how he had made me feel good about myself in a way few others have. Anyone who can do that from such an unimaginable situation is a very special person indeed.

But it doesn't end there. David Niven and Don Revie were the first 'celebrities' to die of MND and they did much to bring this hitherto unknown affliction into the public arena.

Even though it kills three people a day in this country - and I knew a Cleveland police officer who died of it only a few weeks ago - there is still no cure for it.

That will take research. Research will take funds. I am sure the people of Teesside and the North-East will continue to raise money so that Willie Maddren's name lives on and so that he will leave a lasting legacy.