I had the good fortune of knowing Ian. Him, myself and our friend, Bryan set up the Sheffield Travelling Valiants. Ian was one of a kind. He drove like a maniac. On one occasion we flew into a field heading towards a Vale home night game. We won one nil. We went back to the field to try and find his number plate. It was pitch black. Kevin Kent stopped his car and climbed into the field with us to try and find bits of splattered number plates. We played the Sjoke at the Victoria dump, I think the Autoglas Trophy game. For one reason or another we couldn’t travel together. I spotted him at halftime with a bloodied shirt and dried blood covering his face. I thought he had got involved in a fight. He had turned his car over on the way there and got the pick up truck to drop him outside the ground. We carted that flag around for years only finding out about 2 years in that we had spelt ‘Sheffield’ wrong ‘Shefflied’. A great man, a wonderful friend. A big shout out to ‘Sir John’ who had left the Vale a year or so earlier but came to Sheffield with his wife to attend the funeral.