Brian Clough
Have had a week off, as a mark of respect for the great Brian Clough, whose death seems to have released a great outpouring of emotion in Nottingham and Derby, and an entirely merited degree of respect from the rest of the football world, with everyone paying tribute to a true great - in an era when this word is much overused, and mediocrity is king.
It's difficult to know what to say that hasn't already been said this week, and it's hard to believe that only a few years ago he was still on the touchline shouting at his last Forest team as they went down, sinking without trace, drowning not waving.
I was at the match on Sunday, and it was a powerfully moving testament to the affection, respect and love which the Forest fans have for Brian Clough, and for what he gave them and the city twenty years ago. After the parade of the trophies he won, and the tribute from past players, there were many people around me in tears when My Way crooned out of the speakers, just before kick off.
I particularly liked the banner held by some Leeds fans who had travelled down for the League Cup tie against Rotherham in midweek, which said - Our loss - again.