To be sure, he was a highly successful footballer at club and international level, winning the European Cup, UEFA Cup, Football League, FA Cup and League Cup and a total of 61 England caps that would have been greater but for the presence of rival talent Peter Shilton.

Indeed, Clemence came as close as any keeper can to actively winning a trophy for his club when he saved a penalty from Jupp Heynckes in the home leg of Liverpool's UEFA Cup final against Borussia Moenchengladbach in 1973, meaning his team carried a 3-0 lead to the away leg that they lost 2-0. 

Had Heynckes scored, the aggregate would have been 3-3 and the German team would have taken the trophy on the away goals rule.

However, the comments his passing has evoked reference not the achievements but the man.

Here is a sample, from former Spurs player David Howells.

"Clem was the best GK I ever played with by a mile but that's not the half of it," he said. "He was kind and helpful to me as a young player and became a very good friend. He was such fun and brilliant company. It has been one of the great privileges of my life to have known him."

Another tweet, put out by Liverpool FC, shows the reception Clemence got from the fans on the Kop when he returned to Anfield in the colours of the club he joined in 1981, Tottenham Hotspur.

After taking over from Tommy Lawrence between the posts in the wake of Liverpool's calamitous 1970 FA Cup defeat by Watford, Clemence eventually felt the growing rivalry of the reserve keeper, the mercurially talented Bruce Grobbelaar, and decided it was time to move on. 

But his old followers clearly held him in the highest of esteems as they chanted: "England's number one".

Nobody fools the Kop. That demonstration was perhaps the most overwhelming expression of how warmly and widely Clemence was appreciated.

Of course, if Clemence had quarrelled with the club and returned in the colours of the side who play less than a mile away, Everton, the reception may have been, shall we say, muted. 

But Clemence would never have dreamed of doing such a thing. The Liverpool fans recognised that him leaving Anfield was something of a natural succession. They were thus able to respond freely to the person Clemence was.

In Clemence's case, love and success went together. But it is not always, or even often, the case. Many a multiple champion has retired to respectful rather than warm plaudits. The fact is, in sport as in life, some are loveable and others are not.

"I do not like thee Dr. Fell, the reason why I cannot tell, but this I know and know full well, I do not like thee Dr. Fell…" 

The 17th century Anglicised version of Martial's original epigram, produced under pressure by Oxford student Tom Brown at the behest of the said Dr. Fell to save himself from being expelled from the university, has stood the test of time for good reason.

Novak Djokovic is currently the world's number one tennis player. His record of success is outstanding, his ability to resist and overcome unrivalled. It is quite possible that he will go on to better the current record of 20 Grand Slam triumphs jointly held by his older rivals Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal.

Of course, Djokovic has legions of loyal fans. But, despite his sometimes strenuous efforts, he has never succeeded in becoming widely cherished in the way that, say, Federer has. 

That treatment for Federer has not been down to his record so much as something intrinsic to him – the way he is, the way he reacts. It is difficult to define, but undeniable.

Something of the same warmth was generated within tennis back in 1975 when Arthur Ashe defeated the "brash boy wonder", Jimmy Connors, in the Wimbledon final – a triumph of rationality and nerve.

A year earlier Connors had smashed the popular 39-year-old Ken Rosewall in what was the Australian's last chance of winning at SW19, showing scant respect as he won 6-1, 6-1, 6-4.

Not many neutrals loved Connors – and he didn't give a damn. But that state of affairs was part of the reason why Ashe was so warmly acclaimed.

It is so in all sports. Perhaps the most diametrically opposed pair within athletics would be the marvels that were Paavo Nurmi and Emil Zatopek. 

Both multiple Olympic gold medallists in distance running, the Finn was renowned as a taciturn and private figure who took running to new technical heights, while the Czech athlete was a man whose torments were uniquely obvious as he ran with agonised expressions and tongue lolling. You felt his pain; you felt his gain.

Zatopek, who spoke six languages, was a naturally warm and communicative man. In 1966, long-retired, Zatopek hosted the great Australian Ron Clarke, then the world record holder for the 5,000 and 10,000 metres, who had nevertheless been beaten to the Olympic 10,000m title two years earlier by the unheralded American, Billy Mills. 

While seeing his guest off at the airport, Zatopek handed him a package and told him not to open it until the flight was underway. It contained one of his own Olympic gold medals.

Now that is loveable.