Very sad, can only echo the thoughts of most on here, a true gent in every sense.
I'd have been 12, travelling up North (may have been Barnsley) to an away game, my Argyle scarf hanging out the window of my fathers Ford Orion and we pulled alongside the Argyle coach on the M1, DS must have spotted us, jumped out of his seat and started doing a jig in the isle of the coach, clenching his fist towards us.
We raced on ahead and were parked up ready to greet the players off the Coach, whether he recognised the face, the scarf or mere coincidence he wandered over, smiled and handed us two tickets for the main stand and thanked us for travelling.
Thanks for the memories Ciderman.