It is now accepted Graham Taylor’s second era was nowhere near as impressive as his first and one of the first to endorse that is Graham himself. Since I retired in March 2005, I have used this column to trace the history of the club during the 45 years I covered the Hornets.

I spoke to a succession of managers who, given the passing of years, were able to reflect objectively on their tenure and their highs and lows, triumphs and mistakes. Graham was an enthusiastic contributor when it came to the years 1977 to 1987 for they are close to his heart, as indeed they are very fondly remembered by all associated with the club.

Yet when it comes to his second spell at Vicarage Road – 1996-2001 – he is less than forthcoming. Aware that I have set myself a task, he has been very co-operative but when I contact him and set the scene, saying I want to talk about a season 1999/2000 or 2000/01, he is less than enthusiastic. “Must we,” he said.

We had come to expect Graham to work miracles, to pull rabbits out of the hats but we were to be disappointed; Graham along with the rest of us.

“I was not the same person; not the same manager, when I returned to Vicarage Road,” Graham reminded me and, in doing so, obliquely referenced the fact his experience as England manager followed by his dismissal at Wolves had scarred him.

“The World Cup comes up every four years and I hate it. It reminds me of that failure and that rankles more than anything else. I will take that to my grave. Having to handle that failure was very hard for me and people really have no idea how that affected me. As soon as the World Cup comes up, I want it over very quickly,” he admitted.

“There are a lot of things people are not aware of and what I went through during that time.”

The Graham Taylor of the 1970s and 1980s was a very confident man: assured and positive. His dressing-room tirade after one match in the old fourth division included the line: “I know where I am heading; are you coming with me? To the top?”

Four of those players in that dressing room – Ross Jenkins, Luther Blissett, Steve Sherwood and Ian Bolton – did just that.

At the end of the fourth division season, Watford ran away with the title and I was putting together a supplement. Graham gave me free access to the players and trusted me to bring it to his attention if they said anything that might be considered a tad controversial.

The trust was a two-way street and worked well but when I interviewed the club captain Sam Ellis, he enthused about his manager and assured me that the fourth division boss who had just won promotion with Watford to the third division, so duplicating the success he had enjoyed at Lincoln City, would become the England manager one day in the none-too distant future.

It made a good headline, particularly as the concept of Watford having a future England boss at their helm, was mind-boggling in those days. Sam was never one to pull his punches and was quite outspoken, so out of courtesy, I ran the article past Graham, in keeping with the spirit of our agreement. It should be pointed out, some managers did not want you talking to the players at all.

Graham was totally happy with the article, the dressing-room revelations but drew the line at one thing: the prediction that he would be England manager. It was certainly his long-term aim but he was aware that he was regarded in some quarters as “a young upstart, taking a pop star’s money” and preferred to build his case gradually.

After his first term at Vicarage Road, I watched as he courted the press in a dignified manner, even going so far as to bury the hatchet with his Fleet Street nemesis, Jeff Powell, whose criticism of Taylor and Watford bordered on an obsession, which baffled even the journalist’s Daily Mail colleagues.

After watching how Bobby Robson was treated and ridiculed until his side somehow stumbled to the last rounds of the World Cup with Gazza’s tears and the penalty miss, I recall phoning Graham on the evening of his appointment as England boss. I asked him simply why he wanted to put himself through such an experience particularly, as he admitted, Robson’s squad was old and would not be part of the future, leaving the new man having to start from scratch.

We kept in touch over the interim years and I spoke to him on the morning before he offered his resignation to the FA. By then he had been through the ringer; hounded by the press at every turn. His father found pressmen in his own kitchen, having walked in the back door – a new concept of door-stepping. There were many other anecdotes to which I was privy but I am aware that if I reveal them now, some Neanderthal might cobble together a few wisps and “Turnip will take failure to the grave” will become a national headline.

As Graham observed recently: “You and I know the type of people who let our respective professions down. They really came out of the woodwork during that time.”

The one thing Graham refused to do was to go abroad after the mauling. He had sufficient confidence in his managerial ability to sit down and consider the facts: he had been appointed manager because of his achievements with Lincoln, Watford and Aston Villa. He was short-listed for the England job because he was a successful manager, so he did not want to go abroad to lick his wounds. He wanted to get back into the fray and re-assert himself.

“My first grandchild had been born. I did not see the point of leaving the UK like an exile. I was not going to lay down either,” he said. “I could not see why I could not get a decent job after being England manager.”

The disappointment at Wolves, when he was axed the season after reaching the play-offs, was a devastating blow.

I am aware of the many intrusions and unpleasant incidents that occurred during Graham’s vilification during and after his England tenure. He may write about it one day: he was considering such a concept some six or seven years back, but that appears to have been placed on the back burner.

So the manager who steered the Hornets to two successive promotions in 1998 and 1999, was not the same man who had come to Vicarage Road in 1977 and taken the club by the scruff of the neck.

This article was first published in Friday's Watford Observer.