This week, Peter Seddon gives a personal take on the Derby County side of 1969 which won Second Division honours and its effect on the town.

TO be a fully paid-up member of the "heritage brigade" it's necessary to have at least one improbable feat of memory up your sleeve.

The most frequent example is the Co-op dividend number, pummelled into so many of us as nervous young errand-runners that we never forgot it. Like a rabbit out of the hat –- 81144. Not consciously remembered, but simply there.

But an even better trick is shared by countless Derbyshire households, one embracing rather more than a bag of sugar and a pint of milk.

Like the divi number, it comes unbidden, recited almost mantra-like by those who were there. By that, I mean the Baseball Ground 40 years ago, watching the Derby County team created by Brian Clough win the Second Division title in 1968-69. I was 12 years old when they clinched it but despite the passing decades the memory refuses to fade: Green, Webster, Robson, Durban, McFarland, Carlin, Mackay, McGovern, O'Hare, Hector, Hinton. That a single 11 should be so well remembered is not purely because they were stylish and exciting, and uplifted so many spirits, but because the side was such a settled one. Ten of those names were on the team-sheet nearly every match in that wonder season, the exception being John McGovern, who actually played less games than Jim Walker.

In the main, the team that Clough built remained as one and the following season, in the top flight of English football, that celebrated side played together almost every week. Much has been written of the great games and glorious goals which made the Rams Second Division Champions in 1969, of the victory parade through town and the memorable balcony appearance at the Council House. Far less has been said about what it truly meant for the town and its people on a more subconscious level.

The boys of 69, and the headier accomplishments which followed when some of the biggest clubs in football were soundly beaten, raised the national profile of Derby. Would it have been awarded city status in 1977 but for the pinpoint crosses of Alan Hinton? How many local businesses hung their success on the coat-hanger shoulders of John O'Hare?

All is open to debate but certainly the football achievements of a modest provincial community, undeniably in the doldrums when Mr Clough breezed in, did no harm at all in advancing the town's status in a positive direction.

What sort of place would Derby be today if its football team had languished in the lower reaches for 40 years? Nobody can say but, arguably, it would be different.

Socially too, those boys of 69 helped to define a generation. Like all communities Derbyshire is characterised by the variety of its people – different jobs, attitudes, lifestyles – but football has become a common and uniting thread in so many of those lives. An interest in the daily doings of Derby County gets strangers talking, engenders friendships and creates a knowing bond between those who were there. In turn, the folklore passes to later generations, uniting old and young in a shared football heritage. So how might we recall that famous side? Les Green, the diminutive keeper, defied the odds to play every game. Ron Webster – solid, dependable and the best legs in the league, so the girls said. John Robson – a smooth and assured left-footer, departed this world far too soon. Alan Durban – his banana shot was famous before Beckham was born. Roy McFarland – defensive elegance personified and club heart-throb. Dave Mackay – barrel-chested inspiration, a true captain fantastic. John McGovern – almost comically ungainly but undeniably effective. Willie Carlin – small in stature, huge in heart. John O'Hare – master of control, boots sponsored by Superglue. Kevin Hector – known as Zak, simply "The King" of strikers. Alan Hinton – sublime crosser, two great feet, a cannonball shot, and the only footballer in history nicknamed Gladys.

All it takes is a flick of the memory switch to see them in action again, frozen in time, 40 years ago. But only for those who like football, naturally – for we must remember that some have a marked disinterest in the game. That particular breed must be resilient, for, in 1906, a leading sports journalist wrote: "Football came upon us in a vast whirlwind. It is a virus to which few men are immune, spreading among the towns and cities like a fever to which there is no known antidote."

The virus was particularly prevalent in Derbyshire in 1969. Countless families fell under its influence. Forty years later the fever has yet to subside and many predict that a fresh Clough-induced outbreak may be imminent. There is no known cure.