Farewell to Old Trafford’s favourite baby-faced assassin and perfect pro Ole

THE first time I ever saw Ole in person was in the Players’ Bar at Old Trafford, after a match in which he had performed brilliantly and scored twice.

Nonetheless, when this man-child first entered the room, resplendent in club blazer and tie, my first instinct was to ask him if his mother knew where he was.

You cannot overestimate the strange, other-worldly childlike nature of Ole. It strikes everyone who meets him and thus leaves them even more in awe of this outstanding footballer whose deeds are as legendarily as any in Red history.