First, an important confession is required.

I loved Davie Cooper, the footballer. He had a delightful, intuitive skill which could carry him effortlessly past opponents. On his day Cooper was among the most skilful players Scotland had produced in years.

I liked "the bloke" as well. Years ago, when I first ran into Cooper in person in a TV studio, and blurted to him that it was about to be my first time on the box, he was kindness and encouragement personified.

Cooper had a genuine bonhomie about him.

More than all this, speak to Motherwell fans about Davie Cooper - such as Tam Cowan - and they drool at his memory. From 1989 Cooper played four seasons for Motherwell and played arguably some of the greatest football of his career - even at 35.

Among others, Graeme Souness appears to acknowledge this recently, regretting that he had allowed Cooper to leave Rangers when he did in 1989.

"He was a genius for Motherwell - nothing less," said Cowan. "He was a fantastic player for us. I've said it many times, Davie seemed to flourish at Fir Park, there was no pressure on him at all."

The occasion this week of the 20th anniversary of Cooper's untimely death - he was just 39 - and all the tributes that have flowed have reminded me of the confusing recollections of this footballer.

As fine a player as Cooper was, quite a bit of mythology has built up around his memory.

Cooper's finer instincts with a ball cannot be doubted. But for long spells in a Rangers shirt he was nothing like the player he is made out to be today. On the contrary, Cooper could be a strange mix of inspired, predictable and pedestrian.

Rangers supporters in particular tend to laud his brilliance as a player today, and blithely omit the aspects of his game that were often sorely missing.

During his time at Ibrox between 1977 and 1989 Cooper wasn't called the 'Moody Blue' for nothing. For a number of years his career seemed in the doldrums and, back then, many Rangers fans were quite happy to see him omitted from the team.

John Greig, in particular, during his time as Rangers manager between 1978 and 1983, decided on many occasions that his best XI excluded Cooper rather than included him.

Greig today is occasionally strung up for his attitude towards Cooper, such as in season 1980-81, when the Rangers manager left him out of his team for long spells. Back then, though, few Rangers fans quibbled with the decision, in light of Cooper's infuriating inconsistency.

Poor Gordon Smith received dog's abuse for once confessing to me that, when he left Rangers to sign for Brighton in 1980, the Brighton manager, Alan Mullery, had actually wanted to buy both Smith and Cooper.

In the end Mullery was only allowed by Brighton to choose one, and he opted for Smith. "Davie was depressed for quite a few years about his career," Smith told me in a 2005 interview for The Herald. "I still remember Davie's reaction when I left. He was sick about it. He said to me, 'you're really lucky, I wish I could go.' At the time his [Rangers] career just wasn't working for him."

Smith, as much as anyone, truly admired Cooper. But the anecdote revealed the struggles he faced during his career.

My own memory of being in place to witness one of Cooper's finest moments in a Rangers shirt is also telling.

It was a night in 1986 when Rangers faced Ilves-Tampere in the Uefa Cup. There were moments that evening when Cooper ran amok among his opponents, taunting and teasing them with his tricks. The Ibrox crowd were on their feet applauding his ability.

The nagging doubt was, this was against Tampere. The Finns were no world-beaters and were scarcely lauded in their own country. One recurring theory back then was, Cooper was a wizard against unsung players, but not so prolific when facing opponents of higher repute.

Cooper's international career - 22 caps - also speaks of periods when he bore little relation to the player sometimes spoken of today.

Between October 1979 and February 1984, at a time when Cooper's age-range was between 23 and 27, he wasn't capped by Scotland at all.

He did thereafter play to a higher level and go on to receive another 20 caps, including two more while a Motherwell player following another spell in the international wilderness.

The evidence of much of this seems a bit like Cooper's game. It is quite erratic, and does not quite lend itself to emphatic eulogies.

If the tragedy of Cooper's death had not robbed him of a longer life, and were he still around today, I don't believe he would be comfortable with some of the hyperbole that surrounds his career.

He certainly was not "world-class". He probably was not "European-class" either, should such a watered down category exist. Cooper's ability was too fitful and brittle for any of that.

But in the Scottish context he certainly was a very fine footballer - and on occasion a brilliant one - whose highlights on the pitch lit up many a game of football.

Cooper would have been satisfied enough with that.