I'm not talking about Watford and Rodney Green. I am referring to Rodney Marsh and QPR, who in the late 60s epitomised all that was romantic and glamorous. Consequently, to have a 'Rodney' in the side during this period meant that we too could be glamorous. The only reason that this breathless lump of marinated lard was signed, was that he was called Rodney, so we too could wail 'Ro...dneee... Ro...dneee.'

Of dashing skills, physical grace and boyish good looks, our Rodney had none. You've heard of one-footed players. Well, Rodney Green was a no-footed player. Comically unfit, he was signed by Ken Furphy from the scummers as a part-time player. Training was to him an alien concept. My memory of him is that he used to play with a fag in his mouth, but I might have made that up. The sight of him huffing and puffing for breath having tried to run five yards is, however, something I have not made up.

Useless he might have been but bloody hell, we loved him! During the great 1968/69 Third Division Championship season he scored five goals, three of them crucial match winning goals. And why we loved him so much was that two of those goals were scored in the dying moments, in front of the Rookery, when away sides Brighton and Mansfield had apparently held out for a draw. There is nothing like the ecstatic and sudden relief of a last-minute match winner and Rodney got two of them.

He would stagger up from the bench, take off his tracksuit and lumber into action. He soared above defences like a lead balloon. He puffed, he gasped, he got us points that won the Championship. When others were injured, occassional first team appearances came his way but the sight of Rodney's name on the teamsheet would make your heart sink because it probably meant the immortal Barry Endean was injured.

But as a super sub, no-one come's near to Ro...dneeeeee.......