In an office on Singapore's bustling Orchard Road, he offered a hand and that bewitching smile.
"Hello, I'm David," he said.
Of course, he was. Introductions were courteous but unnecessary. He was Rocky, the hero of Highbury, the last-minute title winner at Anfield, a central figure in Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch.
And here he was shaking my hand in a nondescript Singaporean office.
David Rocastle wanted my advice on playing in the S.League.
It was mid-1999. A year earlier, he had been on the books at Chelsea. A decade earlier he had stood in mudcaked boots as Michael Thomas, charging through the midfield, made history as Arsenal beat Liverpool 2-0 on the final day of the season.
Now, Rocastle was coming to play for Clementi Khalsa, a small S.League club even in Singapore's diminutive context. A season at Sabah in a player/coach role in the Malaysia Super League had been a revelation for Rocastle. He had learned conversational Malay, and the local lads adored him.
Still only 31, he'd acquired a taste for Asian football and wanted more.
The S.League, Singapore's only professional sports league, was really going places. By the time I was shaking hands with Rocastle in 1999, the domestic competition had arguably peaked.
The S.League was looking like a great comeback story.
After winning the league and cup double in 1994, Singapore's Lions withdrew from the Malaysia Cup. A dispute over gate receipts, the omnipresent whiff of match-fixing and even the Lions' enviable success perhaps all contributed to the breakup, despite the fact that Singapore had been represented in the Malaysia Cup in 1921. It didn't matter. Singapore football had to start over.
In 1996, the S.League was unveiled with considerable fanfare. The then-prime minister Goh Chok Tong launched the new competition, standing behind a prescient structure, the S.league logo beneath a pair of hands cradling a ball. Singapore's football success rested in the hands of its new domestic league.
And it flourished. The championship playoff between Geylang United and Singapore Armed Forces in that inaugural season was watched by 30,000 fans.
Community stadiums were reconfigured to incorporate extra seating on the running tracks at Balestier and Gombak United. At Tanjong Pagar, they huddled together at the windows of neighbouring apartment blocks, peering down at the sold-out Queenstown Stadium. At Gombak's picturesque stadium, I once spotted spectators climbing the adjacent quarry, essentially edging their way around a perilous cliff face, to catch a glimpse of David O'Connor's charging Bulls.
Fixtures involving the established powerhouses of Robert Alberts' Home United or Fandi Ahmad's Singapore Armed Forces (now Warriors FC) were occasionally paid the highest compliment in the guise of ticket touts, asking passersby outside the stadiums of Choa Chu Kang and Bishan if they were "OK or not."
With adequate corporate sponsorship, the S.League was blessed with quality control. Former World Cup stars and future Premier League campaigners were liberally sprinkled across the competition, along with the inimitable Aleksandar Duric, who liberally sprinkled himself across the competition.
The S.League's man for all seasons began his sporting career as a war refugee from Bosnia and ended it as a 44-year-old holder of several global scoring records, via five clubs and two Southeast Asian titles with the Singapore Lions.
Duric crafted his own "Rocky" story. He made fantasy a reality through heavy industry. He led through perspiration. In the final years of his career, he shouldered the S.League's burden almost alone. He carried a wounded animal.
But when he turned up at Tanjong Pagar in 1999, he was part of a chorus line. Sublime performances played to packed houses.
Sometime in 1998, I recall Jorg Steinebrunner, a former Germany U21 international, chipping a cross toward the penalty spot for Majid Motlagh to rise like an inquisitive meerkat and steer the ball into the top corner. International talent dominated.
Motlagh, a veteran of Iran's World Cup qualification campaigns, floated above the S.League's pockmarked pitches for Tanjong Pagar. Somewhere between Glenn Hoddle and Jan Molby, he plonked passes with an economy of effort that was a privilege to watch.
Despite never winning the title, Tanjong Pagar were indicative of the S.League's widespread talent at the time. Malaysia Cup winners Lim Tong Hai and Steven Tan were accompanied by Steinebrunner in defence, Motlagh in midfield and, later on, the twin towers of Boubacar Seck and Nicodeme Boucher.
In goal, Croatian Dragan Talajic was far too gifted a goalkeeper to be playing in the S.League and far too good looking to be a footballer, but he was a model pro in every sense and now manages Muangthong United in Thailand.
Another manager, a Wembley cup-winning manager, might be now known as "God" in the Northeast of England, but when he turned out for Jurong FC, he was a throwback.
Jason Ainsley played football from a bygone era. Shinpads were optional, tacking was essential and the socks never rose above the ankle. He covered more turf than a fastidious groundsman and needed only one shot. His finishing from distance was unerring. Playing with V. Sundramoorthy at Jurong, the English automaton dominated alongside the Dazzler.
Since 2006, Ainsley has managed non-league side Spennymoor Town in the UK, picking up an FA Vase trophy at Wembley and the Northern Non-League Manager of the Year title along the way. They call him God at Spennymoor. He's still remembered fondly in the S.League.
The same could be said of Grant Holt. If you want to get a retweet from the burly Wigan striker on Twitter, mention Sengkang Marine. He spent a season with the S.League club in 2001 and is proud of his Singaporean adventure. A decade later, he was Norwich City's player of the season three times in a row and scored 23 Premier League goals for them over two seasons.
Zak Whitbread shares Holt's sentiments. The centre-back ran out with Holt at Norwich and now spearheads a promotion chase at Derby County, but his football apprenticeship really began at Geylang United.
Only a shattered metatarsal stopped Michael Currie from taking a similar career path. At 19, the Queens Park Rangers youth player was packed off to Marine Castle (Sengkang Marine's predecessor) to bulk up and gain experience in 1999.
In early games, he was a revelation. Stick thin with long, blonde hair, he mimicked a young Steve McManaman. He drifted away from full-backs and headed toward better things. But a cruel foot injury ended his career.
Still, the S.League was once an incubator for both foreign and local talent. The competition hand-reared a precocious Indra Sahdan Daud to score against Manchester United and turned Aide Iskandar and Daniel Bennett into regional champions.
Those really were the days.
On Sunday, the S.League kicks off its 20th season. The buildup has been marred by austerity measures forced upon the competition by its dwindling popularity.
But the S.League has a healthy precedent to follow: its own.
There was a time when Singapore's only professional sports league brought established England internationals to the table.
Tragically, the S.League never saw Rocastle in action. The deal broke down in the end. The last time I saw him was at a Clementi Khalsa open day for the fans.
He introduced me to his Sabah teammate Veselin Kovacevic and said he had brought him down for a trial. Kovacevic eventually joined Clementi and proved to be a popular character at the club.
Back then, even a great man such as David Rocastle contributed to the S.League.