I’m just that fat lad from Sheffield who plays for Doncaster Rovers.

That’s how Billy Sharp introduces himself on Twitter. Other than seeing some of his goals on telly, I don’t know the guy at all. He was a decent Championship striker who, by the sounds of it, didn’t take things too seriously.

But we see him in a very different light now.

On Tuesday night, Sharp put everything into perspective. Suddenly the stories of alleged racial slurs and daft chanting, the never-ending Tevez spat with Manchester City, even the Pakistani match-fixers paled into complete insignificance.

Here was a guy, a normal person, who was doing his job in the memory of the two-day-old son that he would be burying the following morning.

As a father of three, I can’t even begin to imagine what he must be going through. I hope I never do.

How could you possibly want to carry on? The grief must be overwhelming; enough to tear you apart. Yet Sharp declared himself ready to play for his club.

Boss Dean Saunders felt it was the player’s way of coping with the nightmare situation. By training and playing, he was not left sitting at home to think and wonder why such things can happen.

Keeping busy might blur the pain for a few short moments by somehow focusing his mind in another, completely trivial direction.

So Sharp not only played against Middlesbrough but also scored a superb goal.

He had been named captain for the night and unashamedly cried through the minute’s applause which had been arranged before the game to remember the infant Luey.

And 14 minutes in, Sharp marked the goal by lifting up his jersey to reveal a t-shirt with the message “That’s for you son”.

It was no tasteless or tiresome gag, no Mario Balotelli pop at the papers. This was a poignant tribute as he pointed to the skies. “A goal from heaven,” was the apt description of Middlesbrough’s Tony Mowbray.

It might seem incidental but referee Darren Deadman deserved credit for not giving him the standard booking for that type of celebration. For once, the letter of the law was rightly given a blind eye.

Sharp’s comments afterwards on Twitter were re-tweeted everywhere.

“My goal had to be something special tonight for my special boy. I’m so proud of him and his mum,” he said at the final whistle.

By the next morning, the number of Sharp’s social media followers had ballooned from 5,500 to 17,000. They were no hangers-on gawking at a footballer’s tragic situation but fellow human beings trying in their own small way to share the burden by showing him he was not alone.

I still don’t know a lot more of Billy Sharp the player. But Billy Sharp the person has left an indelible mark. That fat lad from Sheffield has reminded all of us what really matters in life.