Old guard does not fit in with Russian revolution

When he bought the club for £1 in April 1982 he also accepted debts of around £2million and a weekly loss of £12,000. The attendance at his first match, a 2-2 draw with Oldham in the old Second Division, was 8,938.

Perhaps the most memorable moment of his chairmanship came on a December evening 10 years later when, with the help of the Royal Bank of Scotland, he brought to an end a long running battle with Cabra Estates over the ownership of Stamford Bridge. When they signed the paperwork that night Bates was able to set in motion plans to make Chelsea one of Europe's most successful football clubs.

Did he succeed? Well, very nearly. He appointed bold, imaginative managers including Glenn Hoddle, Ruud Gullit, Gianluca Vialli and Claudio Ranieri and, if the championship eluded them, they enjoyed enough success at home and abroad to put Chelsea close to the top table in Europe.

Bates also modernised the dilapidated stadium and built two hotels, though the financial return never quite matched the investment. Subsequently, Chelsea were clearly in serious trouble last year when, much to Bates's relief, Abramovich came to his rescue with a £140m package that included provision for paying off the club's £80m debt. But if the figures didn't quite add up, the fans never complained. They had glamour and excitement, a magnificent stadium, the status of playing in Europe and the privilege of watching stars such as Gianfranco Zola Vialli and Marcel Desailly.

Bates bullishly supervised the evolution of the modern Chelsea and, along the way, stuck his oar in wherever he could. He famously fell out with Arsenal's David Dein in 1988 in a row over TV rights. "We only had one row," said Dein. "But it's lasted for 15 years."

As a member of the Football League Management Committee, Bates was influential in revolutionising TV coverage and negotiating realistic fees for the clubs. Similarly, he played a role in the introduction of shirt sponsorship deals and, far more recently, played a major part in the redevelopment of Wembley. He was eventually ousted as chairman of Wembley National Stadium Ltd but happily claims: "Others will take the credit, but I see Wembley as part of my legacy."

Remember, too, his long and bitter battle with the late Matthew Harding for control of the club and his uneasy relationship with the FA where, of course, he served on the executive until the age of 70.

But what perhaps best sums up his shoot-first-ask-questions-later attitude was the decision to install electric fences at Stamford Bridge. The fences worked well at his Buckinghamshire dairy farm and he argued they could be just as useful confining hooligans on the terraces. He never got the chance to turn on the electricity because he was refused permission.

I've often thought it a shame that he didn't buy the club from the Mears family earlier. He was 50 when he took control having already had spells on the boards at Wigan and Oldham where one former colleague said of him: "He believes in a committee of two - with one of them absent!"

Born in Richmond and trained as an accountant, his early business ventures included sugar cane in Queensland, land development in the Caribbean, and, of course, a dairy farm that produced wonderful ice cream.

He'd loved football, though, since his childhood and once proudly told me that he'd had a trial with Arsenal. "I made Tony Adams look like a fairy," he smiled.

I can believe that. Well almost. Although capable of unexpected kindness, he's never happier than when berating his enemies, many of whom are in my profession. I hadn't know him long when he swept past a crowd of media men at Stamford Bridge with the words: "I'm off to my 300-acre farm. You lot can bugger off to your council houses."

He's given us a lot of laughs over the years. If he goes, the game won't be the same without him.