About 12 years ago, when I was a rookie presenter on Sky Sports, I went home to Leeds for a night and asked my little brother if he had seen me on TV. “Not really,” he said, casually. “I am usually out playing football when your show is on.” Ego slightly bruised? I was actually pleased; that's where ten-year-old boys should be, outside playing sport and not watching it on TV.

But with all the will in the world, sports-mad children can't always be outside and sometimes the inspiration for carrying on with your sport or training harder to achieve your goals can come from the little box in the corner of the room.

It's the summer of 1984, I am 11 and the Los Angeles Olympics start with Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue ringing out around the famous art deco Olympic Stadium. From that moment on I am glued to this sporting extravaganza. I was an aspiring rhythmic gymnast and this was the first time our genre of gymnastics had been included in the Olympics. I trained alongside Lorraine Priest, from Leeds, who with Jacqui Leavy made up the Great Britain team. I was desperate to see the girls in action, so I spent most of the Games on the living-room floor, glued to the action.

Rhythmic gymnastics was never going to be the BBC's main event, so as I waited patiently for Lorraine's routines I also consumed the following: Daley Thompson's heroic triumph, Carl Lewis being indomitable, Tessa Sanderson on top of the podium, Steve Redgrave winning his first Olympic gold and a barefoot Zola Budd tripping up (or not) Mary Decker, as she was then. On the last day there was a musical montage of medal-winners cut to the Spandau Ballet classic, Gold. Trust me, as an 11-year-old it was pure entertainment nectar. I taped the montage and for the next four years I watched those three minutes of TV almost every week.

My mum and dad may have had suspicions about how certain gold medals were won on the track, they may have had an opinion on Budd competing for Great Britain and they certainly had thoughts about the majority of Warsaw Pact countries boycotting the LA Games. But while they answered my queries and discussed the wider political implications, they didn't ruin my innocence and enjoyment of that spectacle.

As parents we can't guarantee that the sport our children consume on TV will be top-class entertainment, nor can we be assured that all the behaviour on display is the kind we'd love our kids to emulate. Finding sporting heroes for our children is increasingly a minefield. Navigate your way between charges of assault, performance-enhancing drugs, recreational drugs, alcohol issues, paying for sex, diving, violence on the pitch and philandering off it, and you may find one or two candidates left who capture the imagination.

A couple of Saturdays ago, I was in the presenter's chair at the Stade de France for the visit of Ireland in the Six Nations. It was a cold, sunny afternoon, one of those days when all seems right with the world, and after 80 minutes of rugby it still felt that way. If you were an eight-year-old boy watching that match, how would you have been able to resist colouring your boots with an orange felt-tip pen, running out into the back garden and asking your mate to be Cédric Heymans while you were Vincent Clerc? But if clever forward play lights your fire, all you had to do was wait until the second half and witness an amazing Ireland comeback. In short, if you were on the hunt for a hero, you'd have been spoilt for choice.

A week later I was in the slightly less glamorous surroundings of the Memorial Stadium in Bristol, getting ready for the visit of Southampton in the FA Cup. Not as salubrious but just as perfect a day; even Lee Dixon was moved to suggest that it was the kind of afternoon that made him wish he was playing again. A raucous crowd, a sunny sky and an upset on the cards.

The story of how Rovers found themselves in the FA Cup quarter-finals and a match away from Wembley will be retold many times in the next few weeks, but witnessing the endeavour of the men in blue and white was a thoroughly uplifting experience. Pick your hero from Rickie Lambert the goalscorer, Stuart Campbell, the captain, Craig Hinton, Aaron Lescott ... the list goes on.

Sitting mid-table in League One may not be the stuff of every schoolboy fantasy, but if you were looking to teach your youngster about hard work, commitment and playing like a team, there was much to admire. Heroes come in all shapes and sizes and they don't always earn £100,000 a week.

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