A Year on The Wear: It felt incongruous at the time: why would they have an Arctic Monkeys tribute band on at a do like this? So it proved: this was the wrong entrance.

Over in another part of the Stadium of Light the real deal was about to stand up, 50 years on from the day that he signed for Sunderland. Charlie Hurley's face showed what it meant to him, a mix of pride, bewilderment and sheer joy at knowing what it is to be loved by a set of football fans, really loved.

"Imagine," Hurley said, "Just imagine, all this for an old codger like me, a 71-year-old ex-footballer. How many clubs would do something like that, celebrate a player who signed 50 years ago? You're lucky to even be remembered. Sunderland, what supporters, what a club. So happy."

This was last Friday night and Hurley, Sunderland's player of the 20th century, was being honoured in recognition of the day in 1957 when he left Millwall for Wearside for £18,000. "It doesn't sound much today, but it was worth 36 terraced houses then," Hurley said, "I got a £10 signing-on fee, my wage was £15-20 a week."

As a 16-year-old playing for fun in Essex, Hurley had never heard of Millwall until the day one of their scouts sidled up to him as he walked off after another impressive local league match. When Sunderland came knocking on Millwall's door, he admitted, he had to look at a map to make certain of where they were, too. But it was a good decision Hurley made to move north. He stayed 12 years, became a legend.

Now, here he was back with his family and former team-mates being lauded by a packed diningroom full of fans, most of whom, he said, could never have seen him play. "But then that's Sunderland, when I'm here and I'm walking down the street I get nine-year-olds saying 'Hello Charlie'. Imagine if I lived up here."

Three days later Hurley was back down south, at home in Hertfordshire. His head, and those of his wife and daughters, was still swimming with sweet memories of a night that made you think afresh of the true meaning of unforgettable.

Hurley played 402 times for Sunderland, but none of those matches was a Cup final or a game that won Sunderland a league title. In 1964, Sunderland did win promotion from the old Second Division in front of 50,000 at Roker Park. It remains his favourite moment, from the year when he was second to Bobby Moore as player of the season.

But Sunderland fans did not take to Hurley for the medals. They took to him because of his ability, courage, longevity and, on and off the pitch, his civility. When it came to a vote, Sunderland's supporters nominated Hurley their player of the century.

"I feel like they're all my friends," Hurley said, "I really feel that. I feel like they are my second family. From day one, when I was crap, they stood by me.

"Don't forget, I was signed to shore up their defence - and what happens on my debut? We lose 7-0. The next week we lost 6-0. I remember being interviewed after that second game against Burnley and the reporter having a worried frown on his face. We both knew I was up to my neck in shit, but I said: 'Don't worry, seven last week, six this, you've seen an improvement already'."

It's a line that has survived the decades. So has the respect for Charlie Hurley. As people queued to have their picture taken with him it became clear that Hurley was not being fraudulent when he talked of how things used to be.

His mention of his weekly wage was by way of illustrating that the gap between players and their audience was not what it is today.

"Even after those first two games I remember shaking hands with shipbuilders and miners, the coal ingrained in their hands. But we weren't getting that much more than the miners and so we never felt above them. I came from a nice generation, we never felt anything but respect for these people. I always felt one of them."

If that sounds like an echo of Roy Keane's words about the game's lost soul, then it is no surprise. Keane and Hurley get on, they exchange letters, hand-written. That could be attributed to Sunderland, or to Cork - Hurley's birthplace, despite his Cockney twang - or to a similarity of attitude.

Hurley's parents, Paddy and Diana, took him from Cork to Essex with his six siblings when he was seven months old.

"Seven months an Irishman, always an Irishman."

Paddy worked in Ford's, in the foundry, "hell on earth". Charlie was already there as an apprentice toolmaker when Millwall tugged on his arm.

"Getting paid for your hobby, I remember going home that night I signed for Millwall and saying: 'Mum, Dad, there is a God'.

"My old man, he was one hard Irishman. 'Listen, Charlie boy', he used to say, 'You'll never get anything for coming second'. He was right. When I won my first cap for Ireland, against England (Dalymount Park, 1957) I won my first header and that set me up. We were winning 1-0 until the last minute."

Hurley was thinking about that last Sunday when he watched Sunderland lose at West Ham. "They were unlucky. I read Roy's comments afterwards and he's right, you don't want to get a name for being unlucky."