It's funny how sometimes you can have fallen out with someone in the past, and then come together later and recognise that you have so much in common.

This is certainly true of my friend and former deputy leader of the Labour Party, Roy Hattersley, whose death was announced this week. There was a time when he had seen me as an arrogant young radical and, if I'm honest, I'd seen him as a 'Right -winger'.

In fact, Roy was horrified when, just a few months in from my election to Parliament in 1987.

Neil Kinnock invited me to join the shadow frontbench. This was partly to stop me causing trouble, and at least in part because I had genuine expertise in local government and local government finance.

Margaret Thatcher was hellbent on introducing a flat rate local tax on everyone, known as the Poll Tax. This was my chance to either flourish or die a quick political death.

The twist here is that Roy and I shared a background. We were both born in, and loved, our home city of Sheffield. We both had a lifelong passion for improving the life chances of children and investing in education, and both of us had served, in different ways, on Sheffield City Council.

I was lucky, not only did I have the chance to be leader of Sheffield, but also to become Education and Employment Secretary, which was denied to Roy back in the mid-70s when Harold Wilson moved him from the shadow brief to become Jim Callaghan's number two at the Foreign Office when Labour was elected in 1974.

Roy sought a parliamentary seat in Birmingham, because in 1964, there was not an available opportunity in South Yorkshire. Sparkbrook were the gainers, but Roy always kept a home just outside Sheffield for two very good reasons.

The first was to keep an eye on his mother. Enid Hattersley, who persuaded a Catholic priest to quit the church to marry her, was a very active member of Sheffield City Council. At the time I was leader, she became the Lord Mayor in the days when this was a really prestigious role, and Enid made the most of it.

But she was also mischievous. Always teasing Roy that he didn't come to see her enough, when I knew for a fact that he couldn't have been a more assiduous son.

The second reason for Roy's presence in and around Sheffield was something else that we held in common. Namely, our insane, total commitment to Sheffield Wednesday. Supporting the Labour Party through thick and thin over so many years could be diagnosed as one form of insanity, but supporting a club that has brought us so much heartache, must qualify for self-inflicted punishment. Roy would combine his two passions by arranging political speaking engagements to coincide with Wednesday away games.

Unlike me, Roy was a natural writer. Someone who could genuinely, as we used to say, “put pen to paper" – writing not only for this newspaper over a long period of time, but also producing a variety of books, from Buster the Dog – who famously killed a goose in St James's Park – and history and reflections on politics. His small book, Who Goes Home, is well worth a read.

Roy can have been said to have played a major part in saving the Labour Party. When the decision was taken by a small group of MPs, who were very close to Roy, to set up the Social Democratic Party, Roy's decision not to join them was, in my view, critical. That loyalty, which he displayed in spades as Neil Kinnock's deputy from 1983, was born of the solidarity which is a hallmark of Sheffield, the big steel and engineering factories, the history of the trade union movement and the closeness to what we would in those days have described as the 'working class'.

I was so pleased, over these latter years, to get to know Roy much better, and to genuinely be able to call him and his wife, Maggie, friends. I for one will miss our musings on current politics and our beloved football team in a way I could never have expected all those years ago.

Lord Blunkett is a former Labour cabinet minister who served as Home Secretary, Education Secretary, and Secretary of State for Work and Pensions