European Cup Final: Nottingham Forest v Hamburger SV. May 28, 1980.

The stadium wasn’t full but considering the amount of travel both sets of supporters had to do, the attendance looked pretty good. We outnumbered the Hamburg and had more vocal support than them. It was a home game. On paper the Germans were favourites and the unfashionable Forest were 15-8 at the bookies back home, while Hamburg were 5-4. No matter what the pundits say, you can always get the best forecast from the bookies, worst luck.

If, and I say IF, we were to lose then it would be down to losing Trevor Francis and then Stan Bowles. I hoped the lads had confidence in themselves. I hoped Taylor had cajoled them to thinking they we unbeatable. I hoped Cloughie could do his magic. I hoped Keegan would go off injured in the first few minutes.

The players all came out with suntans like a load of Spaniards. Cumbo spotted his hero straight away, admiring Peter Shilton’s suntanned legs and hair do. I must admit they did look a picture in all red silky kits. As they lined up you couldn’t tell from the terraces if they looked nervous and I suppose it was too late now and the nerves would go away after the kick-off. We didn’t even look at the German line up on the score board but concentrated on the Reds. I hoped for a miracle while we were away from British media, Stan Bowles had actually rejoined in the last few hours and he would play tonight. No chance.

I remember the nerves clicking in for me as the whistle went for kick-off. In our corner of the Bernabéu where the fans thinned out a bit we had a good view and watched as Manny Kaltz blazed through Robbo for their first attack. Once we had the ball it looked a different situation, but with only one forward up there (Garry Birtles) we couldn’t play our free flowing football and things were tense.

Kenny Burns did a typical first tackle on his man and brought down Milewski. It made us cringe in E Block, never mind the German lad who had just endured it. No mercy was the motto with Lloyd and Burns – they won everything that came their way and a few dangerous tackles along the way. Big Larry floored Keegan and as the ref awarded a free kick Bomber is indicating he was diving! Nice one Bomber, but even we don’t even believe you.

Shilton saved superbly from the following free kick. Shilts looked like he was going to have one of those games similar to the Ajax one, frustrating the opposition with breathtaking saves from nowhere. We played a lot in our own half but I don’t think that was a tactic, more the fact that the Germans played well and forced us back.

I wondered where a goal would come from with us being light up front and Birtles doing his best to hold the ball up while fending off one, two and three defenders at a time. Gary Mills, the youngest on the pitch, played his part behind Birtles but couldn’t venture forward as his freedom was subdued by the commanding Hamburg defence.

This was like Malmo ’79 in reverse. This uphill struggle of a game saw our first proper attack after 17 minutes when Viv sent Birtles through, but his shot was not fierce enough; I hoped now he had had a smell, more would come.

An attack on the crowded Hamburg defence always in position and always in number saw Robbo weave inside and stumble on a fortunate one-two with Mills and then shoot for the far post… and bang! It’s in! One-nil out of the blue and we went mad.

So that’s where a goal is coming from. Never underestimate Forest (even though I did). We all know what going a goal down does to your spirits, even in the Sunday League with Annesley Welfare AFC, so I hoped it had knocked their duck off (as they say). It was what I would call a ‘lazy’ goal effort, something we would do in pre-season training. Well that’s how Robbo made it look; come to think of it Robbo made all the difficult tasks look so easy and that is the mark of a World Class player.

Hamburg came forward again and again like robots only to be thwarted by Burns and Lloyd if they tried to go through the middle. Any crosses were dealt with confidently and when they did find the net my heart sank, soon to be revived by an offside flag. The harsh treatment on Keegan and co resulted in free-kicks in dangerous positions.

Keegan chested down for Milewski to blast and Shilton out of nowhere again put it out for a corner. Phew! It was going to be one of those nights. The half-time whistle blew and we counted our blessings, 1-0 up and half way through the game.

Flags waved as sighs of relief came at half-time, the concrete offering no sounding board for our vocal support and even less for the now silent Germans opposite. The balmy evening was still in twilight and the second 45 minutes would be a lifetime. I turned it over and over again in my mind that we were just one half of a game away from being European Champions for the second time. What an achievement that would be and a ‘Harvey Smith’ (two fingered salute) at the FA and press who still didn’t take us as ‘Greats’.

Out came the players to a good reception from us and an attempt from the Hamburgers to gee their lot up. Pfft. Also appearing to assist the Panzer division of a midfield was the Big Bertha himself, Horst Hrubesch, pronounced as Roobesh.

The Germans did their best to attack and pinned us back, but the sight of Larry Lloyd and Kenny Burns full of grit and Winston Churchill defiance were an equal match. Kevin Keegan was steadily forced back into midfield to pick the ball up and create – he was soon picked up by our midfielders before the big lads could have a chunk out of his legs.

We needed the old 110% from every quarter and got it. Hamburg were a mighty force. They came wave after wave at us; but as soon as the ball went up front to Garry Birtles he was either savagely tackled or swamped by white shirts. I don’t think we could have changed the pattern of the play now with just a lone striker, but we had made our bed and so on…

Hamburg were closed down ASAP, harried and hassled into mistakes and then Peter Shilton was there to prove there was no light at the end of the tunnel for the Germans – apologies for the glut of clichés, but I’m telling it like it is. Oops, sorry!

A break did come and Birtles was leading the way, his heart went straight ahead for goal but his legs had stayed behind somewhere getting kicked by the defence. He was shattered and any other moment of his career this incident would have brought forth a goal. Any thrust forward was a chance to regroup and be ready to thwart any threats.

The crowd now started looking at watches and then it must have been close to time as the whistles came encouraging the ref to blow and telling our lads there isn’t much more time to hang on. I managed to light a fag up and draw up a big nicotine hit to get me to 90 minutes, ne’er mind the players! Heartbeats going off the scale and the ref finally brought it to an end , an ending we wanted: CHAMPIONS AGAIN!

That sounds good to say. This is history, this is fantastic, this is Forest, this is what every Reds fan at home or here wanted and I hoped the TV audiences enjoyed the game and were our supporters at least for tonight.

We danced and hugged each other, fists of victory punched the Madrid air. The presenting of the cup was not like Wembley within view of all the crowd but we did get a glimpse of John McGovern lifting the trophy. Those behind the goals must have had a better view but the roar of the crowd told us this was the moment that would be photographed and archived as historic.

The team started a lap of honour and we would get our chance to applaud an immense effort and see the great silver prize once again as it was destined for Nottingham for another year.

The tall fencing around the terrace wall was a good platform to climb up and see the whole shebang, but the Spanish Police had other ideas and the bastards casually sprayed tear gas like fly killer from aerosols at us.

Dry of throat from the gas and the repeated cries of ‘YESSSS!’ I stood back and as they passed a lump came in my throat and would you believe, a tear in my eye, it was so emotional this time round. Maybe the thought that we were the underdogs and triumphed over a top notch German adversary caused me a weak moment. Let’s have a San Miguel or two – we’ve won the cup again!

• ‘Annesley Reds in Madrid’ concludes on Tuesday.