Sam Ellis and Ian Bolton were Graham Taylor’s first two signings when he took over at Vicarage Road in the summer of 1977. They were both strapping players who were familiar with each other from their days at Lincoln City, where Sam had been captain and Ian had spent a period on loan.

When I went down to interview the duo on the pitch at Vicarage Road that summer, one thing struck me quite forcibly. They were particularly articulate.

Now I know there was a large part of the population back then, and even a significant number today, who think footballers have their brains in their boots and nowhere else. The legend has it that David Beckham is not the sharpest knife in the box, which flies in the face of the fact that he has fared extremely well off the pitch and contributed at many forums.

However, players in those days and probably now, have a suspicion of the press and you have to prise out the facts and their thoughts as they reluctantly go through what they clearly regard as an ordeal. Of course there are some who are not too bright and add “you know” after every sentence or, as is the trend nowadays: “Like I was looking for a new challenge like.”

I often wondered if one should downgrade the natural tendency to be well-spoken. I remember we discussed it at some length on a journalism course, which I attended in Luton, would you believe, on a day-release from the West Herts Post back in 1960.

I argued would you be unlikely to encourage revelations from a striker at SG Browns off Leavesden Road by talking like a toff and sounding the type of person he had quite possibly never talked to before?

I do not suggest I adopted a variety of accents to suit the identity of the interviewee, but I did find myself putting the brake on, until eventually I did it without thinking.

Similarly, there was no point in approaching the Earl of Arran and greeting him with: “Hello my old cocker. How’s the trouble and strife?” It just made sense to approach each interviewee with deference and respect no matter which side of the imagined tracks they might hail from.

I recall when first meeting Watford players in bulk, I had a hard time understanding some of them. There were a number of accents to which I had never been exposed before and it took weeks to ease myself into understanding a Scottish burr, or broad Yorkshire or wondering what I had done to deserve being called “bonny lad”.

I recall travelling on a train with the players who adjourned for lunch. Twice Bobby Bell came down and asked us with his thick Scottish accent, something which we did not quite catch on either occasion. We nodded enthusiastically and wondered what he had said. It was not until later that manager Ron Burgess came down after they had finished their lunch and said: “So you didn’t fancy joining us for lunch.”

Later I got to know Bobby well and understood him perfectly, as I did the broad Welsh of Bryn Jones and the Yorkshire of Billy Houghton, although his wife did confuse me once by enquiring on November 4: “Do they go bunnywoodin’ down here on Mischievous Night?”

It transpired she was referring to the quaint Yorkshire habit of stealing wood from the bonfires of others, the night before November 5.

I never knew how many ‘O’ Levels Billy Houghton attained, his opinions of Franz Kafka and Goethe or whatever and nor was it any concern. We conversed easily and effortlessly and I recall I got on very well with George Harris and Bryn Jones and was soon at ease understanding all three of them as we stood at a bar.

There were players whose conversations I enjoyed and company I kept and a football dressing room provides a variety of individuals, reflective of many similar congregations, be they rugby dressing rooms or a stock brokers’ bar. There are some you like, are drawn to and some who leave you cold.

I remember Glenn Roeder explaining to me why he had abandoned being Paul Gascoigne’s minder during the latter’s spell in Italy. Glenn is an intelligent individual and keeping tabs on a man who was and is his own worst enemy, defied logic.

“Intelligence comes in different forms. On the field he is the most intelligent individual of the 22. Off the field there was a good chance he was the least,” said Glenn.

Similarly I recall Graham, as England boss, reflecting on having to deal with Gascoigne and, when giving him instructions, knowing the player had lost concentration after two sentences.

“I used to put my arm around him and just gently slap the side of his head every couple of sentences to prevent him drifting off,” Graham revealed.

You meet all sorts when you interview players but I had a job to do and the target was to draw as much information from the interviewee as possible. Unlike some national newspaper reporters, my mandate was not to try and persuade him to say something controversial, such as slagging off the manager of the selling club.

I remember one tabloid journalist who was told by his new sports editor to go down to a club, interview the new signing and get him to slag off the previous manager. It transpired the player only had good things to say about his former manager. As a result the reporter was told they would have to send someone else next time. The reporter moved from the tabloid within the month. He decided he did not enjoy that type of journalism.

But while it takes all sorts, I do recall quite vividly being impressed by Ian Bolton and Sam Ellis. I felt that if I gave them biros and paper, they would have been able to write an engaging interview without my having to ask a question. They were men and that much aware.

That was my first indication of the quality of individuals with which Graham was to surround himself.