Bill McLaren, the 'voice of rugby', will be remembered by fans the world over © Getty Images

Enlarge

Related Links

News: Bill McLaren Foundation plan museum

News: Thousands pay tribute to McLaren

News: Mourners flock to McLaren funeral

Features: The 'voice of rugby' falls silent

News: Legendary commentator McLaren dies

Players/Officials: Bill McLaren

Teams: Scotland | Wales

"This is John Taylor, kicking for him from the correct touch-line… it's high enough … what a conversion. A conversion to add to his own try and John Taylor puts Wales ahead with just over a minute remaining."

My finest moment in a Welsh jersey defined by the incomparable and irreplaceable Bill McLaren. Nearly every other British and Irish international who played for their country in the second half of the 20th century will have their own personal memento of that distinctive Borders brogue.

He was the voice of rugby for a full 50 years - incredible. I have listened to Bill McLaren impersonators in South Africa, Australia, New Zealand and even Fiji but perhaps the most surprising was a Romanian in Bucharest, and he wasn't bad either.

I quote his words, not so much because I want to relive my moment of glory, although the hairs on the back of my neck still bristle, but to illustrate the sheer generosity of the man. His beloved Scotland were about to lose a match they might well have won but there was just genuine enthusiasm in his voice for a great piece of rugby theatre.

It was so typical that, when asked how he would like to be remembered, he replied "just as someone who gave everybody a fair crack of the whip."

It was all the more remarkable because he was very passionately Scottish. The last time I saw him was at his home in Hawick, with his beloved Bette, a couple of years ago when I was working on a French television series which celebrated great rivalries - in this case England v Scotland at rugby.

I put it to him that it was all a bit over-hyped and the players just played up to the expected stereotypes. "Oh, I think it's a bit more serious than that laddie (I was still 'laddie' to him regardless of age), it goes pretty deep," he said, the eyes suddenly steely.

He then proceeded to tell me a tale about English soldiers on their way back from some battle being massacred in their sleep when they stupidly decided to camp overnight in Hawick. The anniversary is still celebrated every year "and there's huge competition amongst the lads to play the leader of the gang," he added with the trademark chuckle.

I have a great deal to thank him for because he was instrumental in starting me on my own commentary career. I was badly injured in 1975 and thought my playing career was over, so the BBC invited me to be one of Bill's first 'colour' commentators as we pundits were then called.

He was apparently not very fond of this new development, preferring to work on his own, but we very quickly established a rapport and I knew I had been accepted when he pressed a Hawick Ball (one of the mint humbugs the town is famous for) into my hand. Bette never allowed him to leave for a match without a full tin.

But it was after the match that he did me a massive favour, although neither of us were aware of it at the time. It was already dark at Twickenham and the BBC director wanted Bill to talk to camera for a couple of minutes summarising the game. They would then cut pictures to his words and turn it into a self contained précis of the match to be broadcast later in the evening.

He suddenly grabbed me and asked if I would do it instead. Always self effacing he protested that he was a commentator and no good in front of camera which was far from the truth - his warmth made him a natural - but then he revealed the real reason.

"If I can get away now, laddie, I'll be eating the best fish and chips in the Borders by nine O'Clock and I'll be sleeping in my own bed. If I do this I'll miss my plane and I'll have to spend another night in this God forsaken place. If I fix it will you do it?"

A minute later he squeezed my arm, thanked me hugely and was off to the airport. I did the piece, it worked pretty well and several years later when I had retired from playing the director, who had by then moved to ITV, wanted somebody to do some rugby reporting and remembered my piece to camera in Twickenham - my new career was born.

I learned a massive amount from sitting with him but probably his greatest lesson was the importance of preparation. His information charts (many survive because they became sought after auction items) are multi-coloured masterpieces with so much information they were impossible to fathom for anybody else.

Mine were not quite so elaborate but just as precious and he also taught me that it was not necessary to use all those facts - they were points of reference, if needed. Too many commentators now bombard us with statistics that mean nothing.

Although he began on radio he was a natural television man, allowing the pictures to tell the story of the game while he enriched the experience with wonderful insights into the players, a great sense of humour and a deep understanding of his beloved rugby.

He has been sorely missed but his legacy lives on through the BBC archives. Rugby followers will be able to marvel at his contribution to the game forever and although he would never admit it, I'm sure, deep down, that made him very proud.