The representatives of the Gray dynasty, ubiquitous as they are in my life as a Leeds fan, are all associated with different aspects of Leeds United culture. Andy Gray — the good one, not the boorish foil to Richard Keys — is the only Gray I have seen play. For me, he will always be associated with the programmes I’d obsessively paw between games, conjuring memories and imaginary highlight reels from the scant photos, stats and youth reports. He stands out as the meagre crumb of comfort from our crushing trip to Wembley in 1996, a game whose programme I have completely avoided since.

Despite being starting left-back for our European Cup win in 1975, Frank is pure word-of-mouth to me. I know him from fanzine stories and pub tales from friends who used to watch us in the 1980s’ lost years, that has always felt to me like it only existed for the faithful. Frank Gray the young hope, Frank Gray the returning hero, Frank Gray the Scotland international, Frank Gray the club legend.

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