We live nowadays in a world where superstars are hyped up to the eyeballs by the media, portrayed as other worldly beings who are somehow different from, and remote from the rest of us. And of course, they need to be photogenic as well. That goes without saying.

Brett Ormerod doesn't really to conform to the type, does he? Thin, slightly awkward looking, shy and brought up in the depths of East Lancashire, he doesn't really look anything out of the ordinary. Until he gets on a football pitch, that is. Then the duckling turns into a swan - and what a swan he has been.

Those of you who have read "Fever Pitch" will probably remember that on the opening page he confesses to often mentally dropping out of conversations with his other half as he plays re-runs of great Arsenal moments in his head. This rings really true with me, because it seems that I've had a version of Ormerod MTV playing on an endless loop in my head for a decade and a half.

The images are endless - a lashed half volley from an impossible angle at Sixfields ; a peerless drive from the corner of the penalty box at home to Hull on the opening day ; a side foot winner in the dying moments against Watford ; another close range finish at the MillStad; winning a 30/70 challenge to slide home at home to Swansea ; the poked winner at Wembley ; and, in some ways the most memorable of all, a topically opportunist finish at home to Spurs to send him into the history books for ever. He deserved no less, and 15,000 or so delirious Seasiders lapped up the moment and felt his joy.

Blackpool's history is littered with centre forwards with reputations who never really did it for us. McDougall, Tynan, Kellow, Payton, Malkin, Chopra - the list seems endless. There have been others who made their reputation with us, like Walsh, Burns and Scott `Taylor. But apart from Bob `Hatton and Dave Bamber (in my lifetime), there are very few players of whom you could say, "we saw the very best of him". Brett ormerod is just such a man.

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