Joey Jones’ contribution to football in Wales, and particularly Wrexham, is beyond question, but much more importantly, he was a lovely man.

I was so sad to hear the news that he had left us. He’d been ill for a while, and I suppose we knew the bad news was coming. However, nothing can prepare you for losing one of the good guys.

Joey most certainly gave the lie to the cliche, “Never meet your heroes”. I genuinely can’t imagine anybody feeling let down after coming across him, unless they were on the opposing side in a football match, of course!

His ferocious will to win was the publicly visible element of his personality, and it was a natural extension of his fundamental desire to never let anybody down. He never did. His loyalty was tied closely to his decency. He was a kind, generous man.

If anything, probably too generous. When I interview ex-Wrexham players, especially those who came through our youth system, they always ask me the same questions before we get going: “Is Joy still there? How’s he doing?” They might have long moved on from professional football, but his impact remains fresh.

They acknowledge their huge debt to him as a coach or team-mate, tutoring them in the game, but are equally quick to comment on his impact as a man.

I’ve seen him give his time and energy with great generosity, often to complete strangers. Indeed, I’ve seen people attempt to take advantage of the fact that if Joey could help them, he most certainly would. That’s what I mean about his desire to deliver for others. He was selfless to a fault in all aspects of his life.

He was an uplifting presence. He seemed to have a terrific facility to remembering people, and it made you feel ten feet tall when he saw you and offered an instant greeting. Imagine how I felt: I went from a kid, worshipping this football legend, to a guy who would hear someone shout: “Hey, Mark!” and turn to see my childhood hero with that kind grin on his face. That felt special.

His sense of humour was legendary, his autobiography is hilarious. He was serious when he needed to be, but unless you’d let his side down, or clobbered one of his team mates, you’d never see that side of his personality. Wingers who’d felt the force of Joey’s challenges on the pitch would be astounded to hear that for the rest of us he was a lovably daft, affable guy!

His football achievements stack up spectacularly, of course. The first Welsh player to win the European Cup, which now is the Champions League, of course, and a stack of caps for Wales in an era when international matches were less regular.

Loyalty was important to him. Barely a year after he’d won the European Cup he left Liverpool to return to his beloved Wrexham. Even now, in our gloriously ambitious current state when we’ve been given permission to dream, it’s hard to imagine Dani Carvajal ditching Real Madrid for a stint at the Racecourse!

All this adds up to a remarkable man. He was able to deliver the iconic moments too, in a way which little clubs like Wrexham rarely experience. It’s only recently that the proliferation of high quality images that drive social media has truly caught up with clubs like us. So many memorable moments have evaporated into the ether if Les Evans didn’t happen to capture them. Yet Joey’s iconography sticks in the mind.

No doubt there will be a groundswell of opinion to name the new Kop after a man who was known as the “King of the Kop”, not just at the Racecourse, but also at Anfield.

I’m not going to jump on that particular bandwagon, but I do want to make an observation.

As we travel around the championship, discovering grounds the club has never been to before, we’ll notice a trend. There were signs of it last season, when we hit League One, but in the Championship it’s much more pronounced.

All of a sudden, football clubs are building statues.

Some of them are great. Some of them are moving. Some of them are not. Sunderland somehow managed to encapsulate both ends of the spectrum. There’s a beautiful tribute to the fans who have come together to share the game down the generations at one end of the stadium, and an effigy of their FA Cup winning manager, Bob Stokoe, galloping onto the pitch with glee at the other. It’s a great image, but the way his teeth have been rendered is a bit too realistic!

Joey, as I said, was one for the iconic gesture. He didn’t set out to do it, but that’s the thing about people who are genuine. Their sincerity affects you.

He was a master of the touching gesture because they came from the heart. So ,when he ran to the Kop, whether it be in North Wales or Merseyside, and gave his traditional pre-match salute, it was natural. He would not have been one for manufactured photo opportunities.

He’d wave his fist to the fans that he would be amongst himself if he wasn’t on the pitch, exhorting them to put in the sort of effort he was about to. It sums him up that he endeared himself to everyone with this natural, but passionate gesture.

Maybe someone should make a statue of it.