I’ve just been smashed in the mouth with Eddie Loyden’s elbow and he and fellow apprentice, Roy Cole, approach me to administer first aid.

Our little practice game is abandoned and we return to the treatment room under the main Oakwell stand for me to get properly checked out.

Eddie looks far more upset than me as Norman Rimmington examines my lip.

“Take a drink of cold water from this beaker and rinse out your mouth. Now rub your finger over the cut inside your upper lip and it’ll prevent it going septic. Always works. And a visit to the dentist is essential” says Norman, shaking his head. “Who is your dentist?”

I try to say “Mr Nutbrown” but with my bloated lip it sounds more like “Missy Updown”.

“Didn’t quite catch that?” says Norman, cocking his head to one side.

“’Missy Updown’ I think he said,” replies Roy Cole, looking equally flummoxed.

Norman hands me a pen and paper to write it down.

“Okay” says Norman. “I’ll drive you to see Missy Updown – I mean Mr Nutbrown – as soon as you’re ready.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean it. It just happened,” says Eddie.

I’m really angry – not with Eddie – but with myself, for allowing this to happen. I must be an absolute fool. I’ve known what Eddie Loyden’s like with his elbows for over two years. Two whole years! And still I let it happen.

As I climb into the passenger seat of Norman’s car I allow my mind to wander back a couple of years to when Eddie Loyden first signed for Barnsley from Shrewsbury Town:-

It’s September 1968 and I’m in the fourth year at Holgate Grammar School. Last season was fabulous for Barnsley because we got promotion to Division Three. However, this season looks even more promising because of our new striker – Eddie Loyden.

My friends and I never miss a home game and Eddie gets off to a flyer as a good old-fashioned striker – tall, strong and good in the air. He knows how to find the net and soon becomes an Oakwell favourite.

But fans notice his bad habit of pumping back his elbows when he’s heading a ball, so if you challenge him for a header you’re likely to get a bony elbow in the face.

It’s something he can’t seem to unlearn, despite it getting him into trouble with referees. The Pontey Enders love it and soon create a new chant in his honour, to the tune of the Gay Gordons:

“Eddie Loyden, Eddie Loyden/Tra la la la la la/Eddie Loyden, Eddie Loyden/Tra la la la la la.”

Then two years later, at the age of 16, I’m asked to sign apprentice professional for my home-town team and so become a paid member of the playing staff. It’s a dream come true.

I soon discover that Eddie Loyden is a dedicated professional who makes a fuss of the younger players and every Friday he enlists the help of a couple to help him with his tailor-made work-out.

On this particular Friday, Roy Cole and I help Eddie with his heading practise. Roy centres the ball and Eddie tries to head it into the empty goal. My task is not to win the header but to just jump with Eddie to make it awkward for him.

The first dozen crosses from the right wing fly into the empty goal, but the next one is unlucky 13. Roy floats a cross high into the air and just as I’m jumping, Eddie thrusts his head forward and pumps his right elbow back – straight into my teeth.

I have three lots of surgery to repair the damage but all fail, so I eventually end up having a dental bridge to replace my two upper incisors.

However, I never once felt bitter towards Eddie for what happened that Friday, 55 years ago. It was unintentional and injuries in professional football are an occupational hazard.

Last Friday, 55 years after the incident, I switched on my computer to learn that, Eddie Loyden, my footballing hero, had died on Thursday June 5. And as I contemplated his passing, I could see in my mind’s eye his deadly elbows pumping back as one of his rocket headers bulged the net.

And in my day-dream I’m singing along with thousands of other fans: “Eddie Loyden, Eddie Loyden/Tra la la la la la/Eddie Loyden, Eddie Loyden / Tra la la la la la.”