Blanchflower didn’t just play football, he dictated the game on his terms. His tremendous ego meant that he always wanted the ball even when, on occasion, someone else was better-positioned to receive it. But he had the skill to lose his marker at crucial moments and rarely lost possession. Once he had the ball he’d look up and dispatch it clinically to one of his team-mates, opening up a defence with short and long passes.

He also liked to mix it and was never afraid of getting stuck into the thick of the action. He wanted to be where the battle was fiercest because that’s where he could be most effective. His balance and grace on the ball nevertheless marked him out from the crowd. It was likely you’d notice Blanchflower before any other player on the field.

‘His art, his grace, his skill, his coolness, his magnificence in play are incredible,’ wrote Ralph Finn in Spurs Supreme. ‘Watch him as he brings a ball down out of the air as if it were glued to his toe and how, still surrounded by a mass of players, he manoeuvres out of the rut with almost casual effrontery. Watch him as he traps and wheels in one movement. Watch him as he beats a man with a shudder of those slim shoulders and weaves his way upfield, luring the enemy into false positions. His passing … is beautiful. That is not a wrong word to use in this text for beauty flows from the play of this prince of half-backs.’