At the start of the century Aston Villa were, truly, the greatest football club in the world. We had the best team, the finest ground, the men running the club were the most talented and visionary administrators the game has ever known.

That's why we keep banging on about the past. Because it's something to be proud of. And it's why we can sometimes be so critical of the present. We have the highest standards to uphold.

What we inherited from our forefathers was something unique. It's up to all of us to make sure that what we pass on to our descendants is equally fitting.

Peter Morris said it all at the end of his final chapter:

"The door to the lavishly appointed Guest Room at Villa Park was open and out in the corridor the little boys, dodging the commissionaire, were calling for Brian Little and John Gidman. Quite rightly, they took no notice of myself and the elderly bald-headed man bespectacled, stooping a little, who was quietly finishing his tea. He looked at them for a moment, a whimsical look, and moved to the long windows overlooking the now deserted playing pitch.

"Everytime you come here it must bring back memories Pongo" I said. He stared out for a long while, I thought he'd forgotten I was there. "Aye", he said suddenly "aye, they're a great club...the greatest."