I remember Yaya running up the pitch, ball glued to his feet and opposition players bouncing off him. They couldn't get near him.
I remember Yaya and his thunderous free kicks.
The crowd knew where he was going to put the ball, so did the defence and the oppo keeper. No one could stop it though!
I remember Yaya putting in lung busting runs, getting a shot away and having to lie on his back, beads of sweat on his face, for a minute or so to recover.
I remember Yaya winning some matches on his own with such runs.
I remember Yaya winning the F.A. cup semi against the rags which I felt was the match where the balance of power shifted from Trafford to Manchester.
When Yayas' influence was needed on the pitch he stood tall.
I remember Yaya taking games by the scruff of the neck and dragging the team with him.
I remember Yayas' penalties.
I remember Yayas' crossfield passes and how many of those were successful. Around 95% every game.
I remember the Yaya/Kolo song, sung with passion and humour.
We owe so much to that man.
Yaya - Leader, talisman, legend.
Oh yes, forget all that and focus on cakegate.