I remember him on a snowy winter afternoon under no pressure with the nearest Liverpool player miles away, attempting to throw the ball out, dropping it and watching it roll back into the goal., at the Kop end. A stunned silence followed.
I also remember him taking a ball in the balls, a proper, wet, leather football, and needing to have his tackle massaged by the trainer. No stunned silence for that one, again in front of the Kop. Much merriment ensued.