Rare breed Artur Boruc was a Celtic player who identified himself as a supporter first - Kevin McKenna

And then, addressing his future, he said: “I read a story in Poland that said I was going into scouting when I retire. Where could I be a scout? Maybe in the bars of Warsaw to scout for the best beer. No, I don't want to stay in football.”

This comment was typical of the former Polish international, who seemed to revel in challenging the modes of conduct we demand of modern professional footballers: that they have no opinions on anything beyond football and that they be role models for the rest of us. And not only that. The role we demand of them is based on a composite of St Francis of Assisi and the Dalai Lama.

It’s 12 years since he last played for Celtic, but Boruc is still held in great affection by our support. His nickname - the Holy Goalie - wasn’t based on a career dedicated to prayer and abstinence. Rather, it was his proclivity for expressing his admiration for his fellow countryman, Karol Wojtyla – aka Pope John Paul II – and making the sign of the cross in a somewhat extravagant fashion.

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Modern Scotland likes to think of itself as an enlightened and diverse country, welcoming to all. But when it comes to expressing your Catholic or Irish identity many people in civic Scotland suddenly get nervous and become censorious. Poland, of course, is a profoundly devout Catholic country where faith remains a massive part of the national and cultural identity. In those decades when the country toiled under the totalitarian rule of the Kremlin the Poles expressed their nationhood and patriotism through their Catholic faith. Those Scottish commentators who criticised Boruc for expressing this publicly were entirely ignorant of this.

Not that the Big Stuff would have been paying much attention anyway. You always gained the impression that he was his own man and that trying to enforce strict adherence to a code of cultural conduct would have been as futile as herding cats.

Boruc’s folk hero status among Celtic supporters and those of Legia Warsaw, I think, risks undermining the fact that he was a world-class goalkeeper, perhaps the only one we’ve had the privilege of watching since Ronnie Simpson. I certainly rate him as the finest Celtic keeper I’ve ever seen. A defence, no matter how individually disciplined and proficient, needs to have confidence in their goalkeeper and Boruc exuded it. His Celtic career lasted only five seasons but never has a five-year football stretch possessed so many memorable moments.

Everyone has their favourite Artur memory and there were so many to choose from. The standout, of course, was that penalty save from Manchester United’s French striker, Louis Saha in a Champions League group match in 2006. The roar that greeted it actually matched that which erupted when Shunsuke Nakamura scored his sensational free-kick 20 minutes earlier. It was also the save that took us into the knock-out stages of the Champions League for the first time ever.

This was one of many penalty saves by Boruc including a couple that were equally important the following season when we defeated Spartak Moscow in a shoot-out for the group stage. I can’t think of any other Celtic keeper who made so many crucial penalty saves for us. His reputation in this department always tilted the odds slightly in his favour, I think, whenever he faced a penalty.

He was also an outstanding shot-stopper, the most memorable of which was a backwards leap at Easter Road that seemed to defy the laws of gravity as he tipped a goal-bound shot onto a post. And although he wasn’t the first goalkeeper to have taken a penalty in a shoot-out I can’t recall another who would have scored with a disguised chip as he did in a Hampden semi-final against Motherwell. It wasn’t quite a Panenka but it was executed with the style of a man who had no doubt that it would finish in the back of the net.

There was a reported dressing-room fight with Aiden McGeady and it was known that Gordon Strachan knew to give him his space, while getting the best out of him. You gained the impression that he wasn’t to be messed with whether you were a team mate or an opponent.

He seemed also to relish the red-hot atmosphere of Ibrox and to be utterly impervious to the abuse he received on these occasions. Nor did he stick to the laid-down script about just doing your best; hoping for a result and getting the hell out of Dodge. He spoke openly about his disdain for Rangers, although I think this was less to do with personal animosity than with a desire simply to wind up Rangers players (although I could be wrong).

But among my most treasured memories is footage of him at a Legia Warsaw game while he was still a Celtic player. On a weekend off he’d returned to Poland and could be seen leading the Legia ultras in song from a spot perched high up in the wire fencing. He also joined his beloved Legia supporters at Ibrox a couple of years ago when they played Rangers in the Europa League. This earned a rebuke from Eddie Howe, his manager at the time at Bournemouth.

I think though, that the deep affection in which he’s held by Celtic supporters arises not simply from his outstanding ability as a goalkeeper. He was that rare breed in modern, professional football: a player who identified himself as a supporter first. And he did this without feeling that he had to kiss the badge or beat his chest or go to the supporters at full-time to applaud us.

He just liked playing well; winning games and celebrating the fact by doing what the rest of us like to do: having a drink; going a bit mental and getting it right up the opposition. What’s not to like?