Renowned journalist David Harrison is writing for Wolves' matchday magazine this season, recalling some of his days covering the club in bygone eras.  The first of his offerings, as featured in the Stoke programme, looked back on his memories and experiences with the great Stan Cullis.

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With a snarl and a scowl, he barked out his orders as he patrolled the touchline in front of the old Waterloo Road enclosure right near the mouth of the players' tunnel.

This was my first memory of Stan Cullis, master of all he surveyed at Molineux and one of the greatest managers in football history.

As a young Wolves fan in the late 50's I was enthralled by the team which held me in its magic spell and, if the truth be known, rather intimidated by the balding, upright figure who made it all possible. 

If he had that effect on me as a fan, imagine what Mr. Cullis's presence had on the players.

That was back in the earliest days of my passion for the mighty Wanderers. They were always the Wanderers - never the Wolves - to my late granddad who reared me  as a fan. 

My journey had started in the kids' pen in the old Cowshed End (the North Bank for the uninitiated).

This wonderful trip transported me down the years through the Waterloo Road side, onto the South Bank and eventually to the Molineux Street stand .  There I had a season ticket beneath the clock which now ticks proudly over the stand which carries Mr. Cullis's name.

The train trip from Tipton Five Ways to Wolverhampton Low Level station and the ride home clutching the Sporting Star, which magically was on sale in Queen Street almost as the match finished - how we kids cherished the adventure.

Fast forward twenty odd years and Wolves were still a major part of my life. I had worked my way through various weekly papers to become a sportswriter on the Birmingham Post and Mail, the Express and Star and the Today newspaper.

Suddenly I was being paid to go and watch and report on Wolves matches. It was a tough life but someone had to do it.

Back then there was an award for the region's Young Player of the Month and the judging panel included Mr. Cullis.

In covering those presentations I got to know the great man quite well. On a couple of occasions they were held at Nottingham Forest when Des Walker and Nigel Clough were the recipients.

I was sitting in the office in Birmingham one day when a call came through and was told there was a Mr. Cullis on the phone for me: "David, could you pick me up from New Street station and drive me over to Nottingham, please?"

You bet I could. Those car journeys were a nostalgic trip through my formative football years with the legend himself as my tour guide.

He could remember in minute detail, the good and glorious years and the not-so-good finale when all he got from Wolves was a phone bill for three pounds 15 shillings.  Some reward for all he had done. He still carried the creased-up bill in his pocket.

And he also showed me the sympathetic telegram he received from his great rival Sir Matt Busby after his sacking.

"How could people do such a thing after you have given your life's blood?" wrote Sir Matt." What more success can they get than what you have given them?"

Modern day managers held him in equally high esteem. On the trips to Nottingham, Brian Clough would be waiting for him to greet him with a kiss on both cheeks.

Cloughie would tell him: "You are the master. We are all just novices compared with you. I can learn more in 10 minutes from you than all the so-called coaching experts in the game."

In full rant the Forest manager would add: "They should build a monument to you, Stanley. And they should do it now not wait til you are too bloody old or dead."

Sir Jack Hayward put that right when he named the North Bank stand after him and erected a statue in the great man's honour.

In his later years, Mr Cullis (I could never bring myself to call him Stan) was much different from the tyrant who ruled Molineux with an iron fist.

He was a retiring, humble man who spurned the limelight. Once he asked me to join him at Wembley as his guest at an England international. He was an honorary member of the Football Association and feted by the great and the good - but he preferred to take a back seat and enjoy the football rather than bask in his past glories.

I last saw Mr Cullis at one of the Wolves' Old Players' Association dinners. He was a frail and distant figure, suffering by then from the onset of Alzheimer's Disease.

I shook his hand but I don't think he remembered who I was.  But that didn't matter.

I think of him often and always, when I visit Molineux and pass his statue, I remember those hours I shared with him reliving my young days as a fan of the world's greatest football club.

And  I remember the immortal words he uttered when I asked about his unsuccessful spell as manager of Birmingham City.

"In this world, you only have one life," he replied. "And gave mine to Wolves."

Thank you, Mr Cullis. We are grateful that you did.