Death inflates the reputation of sportsmen. Memory insists their runs were quicker, their goals more spectacular, their passes infallibly accurate. Tommy Burns needs no bombast, however benign, to inflate his reputation.

He was a sublime sportsman and a solid citizen. It takes talent to be a great footballer, it takes much more to be a "good guy". Burns was both.

To those who watched from the terracing, he was a player of unimpeachable skill, his left foot promp- ting and prodding Celtic to glory.

But this was only part of the man. As a schoolboy, he was pale, skinny and had poor eyesight. He played football with National Health glasses firmly plastered to a head that shone red. These physical attributes were not the ingredients for an easy life in the Calton area of Glasgow.

Burns more than survived. His footballing ability helped, of course. But his character ensured that trial and tribulation were but the grit of life, not its essence.

He was always fortified by his Roman Catholic belief, particularly in his recent, tragic illness. Burns, though, was more than a man of faith. He was an exemplar of tolerance. He was a great footballer whose true worth became apparent far from the pitch.

He won championships and cups for Celtic. He managed the club with a flourish, if without conspicuous success. Tellingly, he became close to the man who fatally undermined his managerial career at Celtic. Walter Smith, the Rangers manager then and now, kept Burns on as a Scotland coach after the departure of Berti Vogts. Burns repaid that favour with loyalty and admiration.

"His humility is one outstanding quality anyone can learn from," he said of Smith at a press conference only two months ago. Burns needed no lessons in humility.

He knew what he was, what he came from and where he wanted to go. His spiritual life was active, but largely anonymous. His charity work was the same.

It was all done with a nod, a wink and a brisk practicality that made it seem that it was all nothing.

Yet for Burns it was everything. He believed in goodness and in the necessity for a man to strive towards this. His reverence for the spiritual was matched by an irreverence about everything else. Professionally, he was engaging, almost easy-going. But this gentleness of spirit was underpinned by a strength of character. Burns held strong views and expressed them when he felt the time was right.

He was committed to building up his beloved club's youth policy. He believed intuitively in Celtic's need to go into the community. He worked hard to ensure the club would have a glorious future.

Instinctively, he was a helper. His private life was filled with examples of his devotion to the belief that there was always something he could do for someone. He would prefer that these acts remain private. It is the least one can do to respect this privacy without citing in detail any of the numerous acts of kindness.

But in professional life his capacity to help was glaringly obvious. Derek Ferguson, the former Rangers midfielder, revealed in his autobiography how Burns had helped him through his Old Firm debut, calming the youngster with quiet words of encouragement.

Any conversation with Aiden McGeady, Celtic's best player, is peppered by phrases of praise to his mentor, Tommy Burns.

There were hundreds of others at Celtic. Many of them may not have made the grade but they were inculcated with the Burns credo of "being brave, being honest and showing for the ball".

These were attributes he took into the wider world. But his adherence to these beliefs could never be confused with a dry pragmatism or sniffy piety. He was a human being with human foibles.

But he had those wonderful, human characteristics of overwhelming affection and dry humour. He could use both to devastating effect. It was enriching to watch him tease the people he loved. His family was all - or almost all; there was room for others.

Burns was universally regarded as a "good guy" in a business that contains, even encourages, "nasty guys". He held true to his beliefs and, much more importantly, respected the rights of others to hold true to their views. He loved football, he loved Celtic and he loved people. All loved him back. He could be seen in his element in church, at trackside or at a function. He was simply Tommy Burns wherever he went. He never needed encouragement to tell a joke or sing a song. His signature tune was Mack the Knife. It was once the epitome of a cool, calculated swing. It is now, irredeemably, a lament.

Committed to his family and to charities

Tommy Burns battled through the ravages of cancer in the hope of living long enough to see his first grandson grow up.

But for the sporting legend, who fell ill for a second time just as his daughter Emma gave birth to her baby boy, it was not to be.

Ever-supportive of their "home boy" were his wife of 28 years, Rosemary, 52, and children Emma, 26, Jenna, 22, Michael, 20, and 16-year-old Jonathan.

And just last month, Burns was reconciled with Anne-Marie, 46, the sister he had been estranged from for five years.

Burns earlier admitted: "You think you're born, you grow up, you live a long life to a good old age - and then, all of a sudden, something can change all that and take your life away. You look on every day as a bonus after that. You don't make mountains out of molehills and fall out with people after that."

Even through the frailty of illness, Burns insisted on leading the tributes at the funeral of former Celtic defender John Cushley, 65, who died in March from motor neurone disease.

He was also a committed charity fundraiser. While most of his work was kept private, he is known to have donated more than £30,000 to the Shaw Melanoma Charitable Trust, a Scottish skin cancer charity.

He was also a public face of the Scottish Catholic International Aid Fund (SCIAF). Paying tribute to him yesterday, Paul Chitnis, chief executive of SCIAF, said: "Tommy Burns's endorsement, with Ally McCoist, of SCIAF's fundraising had a huge impact not only on people's awareness of SCIAF, but also on the lives of thousands of desperately poor people across the world."