This article was first published today in our bespoke Sports newsletter The Fixture. You can sign up in seconds to receive it straight to your inbox every weekday here.

Everyone, it seems, has a story to tell about Craig Brown, the former Scotland manager who passed away yesterday at the age of 82 after a battle against illness. The Fixture is no different. While there are those who could regale of the many numerous times spent in his company, my recollections pertain to just two memorable moments. Alan Burrows produced an eloquent, beautiful tribute to his friend on social media in the aftermath of the news of Brown's death and one sentence rang particularly true for me.

“He was an amazing storyteller. You could name almost anyone in the game, from any era, and he would know a funny or interesting anecdote about them,” said the Aberdeen chief executive, who also worked with Brown at Motherwell.

When we met Brown proved worthy of this description. I was not out in the field like the other sports journalists on the football beat at The Herald. As a production journalist most of my time was spent on the sports desk and so encountering the assorted characters of the game in Scotland was a rarity confined to the odd occasion when there would be a press conference to attend to cover holidays or sickness – or in the less accessible environs of a Saturday match day. And so, Brown was just a face on the television or the subject of a humorous anecdote told by a colleague. That changed when I decided to write a book about the former Dundee, Tottenham and Scotland striker Alan Gilzean in 2009. Brown had been a member of the Dundee team that won the Scottish first division title in 1962 and seemed better placed than most to tell a few stories about him. He did not let me down.

When I called, Craig was on the motorway heading north from England for a dental appointment . . . in Scotland. It seemed to sum him up in some way. In which way I'm not entirely sure, though.

He started into the stories about Gillie in rat-a-tat fashion and continued for more than half an hour.

“We wore white shorts at Dundee and after the game we would come into the dressing room and everyone’s shorts would be filthy and muddy, but his would be immaculate," he said. "He was not the kind of striker who put himself about. He was a gentleman’s striker.

“At Dens, we had a communal bath,” he added. “Everyone bathed together and it made for great banter. We would play this game: the Scottish international good-looking team versus the Scottish international ugly team. Gilzean would be sitting there holding court in the bath and he would always read out the team: it would include players like Davie Provan of Rangers and when he got to centre-half he would say, ‘Centre-half ... Ian Ure ... Dundee ... captain.’ Then he would run through the good-looking team and when he got to centre-forward he would say, ‘Centre-forward ... Alan Gilzean ... Dundee ... captain.’ ” To which, of course, there were chortles on either end of the phone.

The Herald:

These were tales of more homespun times, you could almost hear the twinkle in his eye as he told it over the phone. This was Brown in a nutshell. Countless stories yesterday testified to his generosity and his warmth. And I too, experienced this kindness despite this being our first encounter.

A few months later I travelled to White Hart Lane to interview some of Gilzean's former Tottenham team-mates. Brown was there to co-commentate on that day's Premier League game between Spurs and Stoke City. He was locked in a conversation with Ron Jones, the BBC radio commentator but he caught my eye and stopped as I held out my hand and introduced myself in person.

“Ron, this is James Morgan, he’s writing a book about Alan Gilzean.”

“Have you spoken to John Duncan?” Craig asked. “I’ve got a number for him.”

At which point, he reached for his phone and handed it over for me to take down the number.

We were, of course, two complete strangers but it was the sort of down-to-earth generosity that leaves an indelible mark. Reading the tributes to him yesterday and this morning spelled out vividly that random acts of kindness were just the currency in which Brown traded.