Luciano Pavarotti

Its funny where the death of someone famous (actually, anyone, not necessarily famous) can send your mind wandering to. If its someone who has actually done something worthwhile to be given celebrity status, that is, rather than those current vacuous, unnecessary, self-loving, media-obsessed "celebrities" who seem to be famous for just being, well, famous.

Previously forgotten memories come rushing back, and you are carried away into a parallel world, where everything around you seems more electric, more sensitive, brighter, sharper and more intense than it first was. This is kind of where my mind has wondered to today anyway.

I'm not used to giving tributes to celebrities who finally pass away, but sometimes these people do actually influence you more than you realise at the time. Luciano Pavarotti passed away last night in Modeno in Italy, aged 71, due to Pancreatic Cancer. A hugely talented opera singer, with a magical, captivating and engrossing voice, known for being one of the Three Tenors, he will forever be remembered by most people (including me) for his renditions of Nessun Dorma, which became associated with the Italia '90 World Cup. The BBC titles to this event (and the closing ones I remember, but couldn't find anywhere) being true bottled emotion, wrapped up in a sporting event.

This was the first World Cup I remember, and one of my first real footballing memories (sadly, alongside Hillsborough, and more happily the classic FA Cup final where Liverpool beat Everton 3-2 in extra time on a roasting hot May afternoon). I remember being just 9 years-old, and at Cubs on the first Friday evening, hearing that Cameroon had beaten favourites Argentina 1-0 while being down to 10 men. The shock, joy, and amazement that someone under ten cannot understand that the defending champions had LOST to a minnow African nation. I barely knew where Cameroon was back then!

There was Cameroon's iconic Roger Miller and his hip-swaying goal celebration, Toto Schillachi and Roberto Baggio for Italy, the absolutely bizarre hair-do's of Colombia's Rene Higuita and Carlos Valderama, of course Gazza's tears for England, the football genius (if flawed personality) Maradona and Claudio Cannigia from Argentina, Klinsmann and Lothar Matthaus in a really very good Germany team, and so many special goals.

But it wasn't just the football that opened up to me that summer. That was probably my first real exposure to any form of classical music, and I wonder how many others there were in that position. That's not to say it converted me and all I listen to now is something written 400 years ago, but it opened up the mind of a 9-year-old to hear something both new and old at the same time, and that can't be a bad thing at all. So I now count most of my (slightly limited) inspiration for listening to classical music to that date too.

And all these Latin memories, influences and passion then led me to maybe the epitome of Latin, and even footballing passions, all in one second. Has any one image ever captured the vast, unintelligible emotion built up into just a simple game of football, as Marco Tardelli's celebration after scoring for Italy against Germany in the 1982 World Cup Final? A great goal, the greatest celebration of all time, and on those famous BBC titles, all married together perfectly by Luciano Pavarotti.