Sitting in on a City team talk before winning at Liverpool!

The noise was the first thing. The second was the relief I felt that Keith Skipper would be fighting that din, and not me. I could more or less just enjoy the occasion: Liverpool versus Norwich.

Skips would be dictating the blow-by-blow match report for the front page of the broadsheet Pink Un – struggling to make himself heard down the telephone line above the Kop’s choruses, and not managing to hear much at all that Ralph Potter, the “copy-taker” back in Norwich, yelled in reply.

Emlyn Hughes stabs the ball in for Liverpool (Image: Archant)

The task of communicating effectively had proved very nearly impossible four weeks earlier, as City lost just 1-0 at Old Trafford and now, we were at Anfield and it was Skips’ turn to craft the match report again. I could sit back, take ample notes, and relish the match.

What a happy co-incidence for me that Skips’ turn fell on those games in front of two huge, noisy crowds … except after all these years I understand that it was almost certainly arranged that way.

It was my first season as Norwich City correspondent of the (Eastern) Evening News and I was very much learning on the job. Skips, the EDP correspondent, was a veteran.

Keith Skipper's match report (Image: Archant)

This was November 1975, which must seem as long ago as cave paintings to some readers, but the memories are sharp for me — because, as Norwich pilfered a stunning victory, I fell properly in love with my new job.

Keith Skipper was the old hand (Image: Archant)

Skips and I had travelled up in the team coach, stayed and dined with the players in their hotel and even sat in on John Bond’s team talk.

Dave Stringer was tasked with marking Kevin Keegan (Image: Archant)

The City manager gave Dave Stringer the task of man-marking Kevin Keegan. Stringer didn’t allow any emotion to show on his face, but some of the other players shot him looks of sympathy. Duncan Forbes would pick up John Toshack – and knowing looks were exchanged suggesting it would be “Big Tosh” who would need sympathy and probably quite a lot of treatment for injuries.

Duncan Forbes was detailed to keep a tight grip on John Toshack (Image: Archant)

Three days earlier, Liverpool had won 2-1 in Poland against Slask Wrocklaw in the UEFA Cup but as Stringer in particular failed to detect any signs of fatigue in the opposition an extraordinary match developed.

The North-West based reporters for the national media were condescending and patronising to Skips and me, so it felt a personal triumph as Colin Suggett and Martin Peters plundered breakaway goals in the second half (Peters, as I recall with glee, chipped England goalkeeper Ray Clemence from 15 yards). Emlyn Hughes thumped in Liverpool’s response after 87 minutes but Ted MacDougall, who had been playing in a withdrawn role in the Bond masterplan, finished off a four-man move by tapping in City’s third seconds before the end.

Norwich City's Martin Peters challenges Liverpool defender Phil Thompson (Image: Archant)

Liverpool had lost at home for the first time in a year, City (promoted the previous May) had secured their first win at Anfield and I couldn’t understand anything said afterwards by Bob Paisley, who was in his second season as Liverpool manager.

It was a decent trip back on the team coach that night, I’m sure, although I can’t be certain where we stopped for fish and chips. Assistant manager Ken Brown used to go in first and place the order from requests that he’d scribbled on his notepad.

The next day I put together my report on my typewriter in the flat I shared on Thorpe Road in Norwich. I definitely remember opining that Ray Kennedy “looked exactly what he is: a central striker playing out of position in midfield.” He went on to win 15 trophies in Liverpool’s midfield – including the League that season. Liverpool were helped over the line by Norwich beating runners-up QPR in the run-in.

Liverpool keeper Ray Clemence grabs the ball (Image: Archant)

And me? I did OK too, but never took any of it for granted. As I walked into the 2006 World Cup Final in Berlin, for instance, another old hack sighed about having to go to “yet another game.” I said: “If you really think that, you’re in the wrong profession.”

When I retired after the World Cup in Brazil, it was because the thought of making my way home from, say, Newcastle by train on a Sunday night had lost its attraction and so I knew it was time to stop.

But for the very near four decades between Anfield in 1975 and Rio in 2014 I maintained the sense of wonder and privilege I first began to cherish as I watched that great unscripted drama unfold as Norwich dared to achieve the improbable.