Amidst the controversy and excitement of this World Cup, amidst the nauseating prospect of the Glazers making billions of pounds out of their lousy ownership of Manchester United, amidst the odd injury worry in Gareth Southgate's squad, football lost a great.
I am biased because he was a mate so, to me, David Johnson will always be remembered by that term. The Doc was a funny, funny man, whose laughter never deserted him through the occasional trying time.
A practical joker, the life and soul of any gathering, brilliant company on the golf course. But even if you did not have the privilege of knowing The Doc, perhaps you should think of him as a great anyway. You don’t have to be a King Kenny to be a Liverpool great.
After all, Johnson was part of a squad that won three European Cups and four domestic titles (the old First Division), and his collection of eight England caps does not do justice to his talent.
He only started one of those European Cup finals, the 1981 victory over Real Madrid at the Parc de Princes, was an unused substitute for the 1977 win over Borussia Monchengladbach and missed the 1978 triumph over Bruges through injury.
But within Anfield, he is considered a three-time winner all the same, because the Doc was such an integral part of the Liverpool team that created one of the most successful dynasties in football in the Seventies and Eighties.
Liverpool-born and bred - and a red born and bred - Johnson actually joined Everton in 1971 before moving to Ipswich in exchange for Rod Belfitt and £40,000 in November 1972.
Under Bobby Robson, he had four happy seasons at Portman Road, finishing no lower than sixth and earning himself an England call-up. But in August 1976, Johnson’s dream came true - and believe me, it was a dream he cherished until the day he passed away. Johnson signed for Liverpool.
There were ups and downs during his Anfield playing time, which lasted six years. People forget that in one season, 1979-80, he formed a fantastic partnership with Kenny Dalglish, the pair scoring 55 goals between them, Johnson registering 27 of those.
There were many notable statistics and moments from Johnson’s brilliant career - he is only one of two players to score in a Merseyside derby for both Everton and Liverpool and scored a wonderful diving header against Argentina for England at Wembley.
And it was the sort of career that would, nowadays, provide untold riches, financial security for life. Not then. Not even close. But Johnson went into insurance, would earn another crust with his after-dinner speaking and set up football camps with his great pal Alan Kennedy.
But the great thing about The Doc - simply nicknamed by Terry McDermott because he always carried a selection of pills in his kit bag - was that he was never resentful, never wondered what might have been. He had lived his dream and that was more than enough for a smashing player and a smashing bloke. A great? You bet.
