Vasily Frolov used to be a goalkeeper. He was on the books of Dynamo Moscow for a time, the only club Yashin represented. He is Yashin’s grandson, and now he runs his own goalkeeper training school.

We meet on a modern, artificial turf pitch in a sports hall adjoining the stadium where his grandfather began his own career, playing for the factory team local to these northern fringes of Moscow - Tyshino. Over the road - a massive, 12-lane highway with no real markings to keep you in check - stands Spartak Moscow’s new stadium, which will soon be hosting World Cup matches.

Vasily is wearing a T-shirt with white writing on a black background - “Lev Yashin Style”. Four boys have turned up. He runs the young keepers through a series of drills. They are excellent. There is a lesson in each section, or more than one - communication, reflexes, positioning, throwing the ball.

Pyotr is 10 years old. He has turned up to training dressed all in black, even the palms of his gloves. He’s not the only one either.

Two of his friends are decked out in black shorts, black under trousers and black long-sleeve tops. Pyotr has seen Yashin’s matches on YouTube, watched his best saves, but he doesn’t support Dynamo. I ask Vasily - is the black strip compulsory? Recommended? “No,” he answers. “They just come like that.”

Vasily joined Dynamo’s youth side, having started out at Torpedo Moscow because it was closer to home. But he never made it. The closest he came to elite football was a loan spell with Dynamo St Petersburg, a sister club in the second tier, and he retired at the age of 23. Vasily’s grandmother, Valentina, candidly says he wasn’t good enough. Vasily agrees, and explains more. It was the mental burden he could not cope with.

“I can’t say there was any external pressure or expectation on me, but there was internal pressure - the weight from the fact I had such a grandfather,” he says. “I wanted to show to everyone that I’m as good, but the level was so high that over time, with every mistake, there was an even more painful reaction. I understood that this could make me crazy and I needed to stop because my level became lower and lower. That’s it.”

Vasily has only one proper memory of his grandfather, but it is a happy one. He walks into a sunny bedroom, four years old, his head is as high as the mattress, and sees him lying there. He is beckoned to come closer and scrambles under the sheets.

He says: “I remember realising that there was one leg and then nothing where the other should be, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I was just happy that my granddad invited me to be close to him. He covered me up with the blanket and it felt so good and so warm to be there next to him.