Rugby family has rallied round my brave pal Doddie

When my pal Doddie Weir was diagnosed with the death sentence otherwise known as motor neurone disease, it would have been easy for him to wallow in self-pity. No one would have blamed him had he thrown up his hands and surrendered.

But that is not Doddie’s way and it is not the way of the sport which has defined the big man from Melrose. Rugby folk often talk about the uniqueness, the specialness, of the game and of its people, which is easy to say but difficult to back up – everyone believes their community has something special that sets it apart, but few get the chance to prove it.

This week, in the most difficult of circumstances, the rugby community has demonstrated beyond doubt that its trope about “the rugby family” is more than just words. When the jungle drums began to spread the news of Doddie’s illness, the reaction from within and outside the rugby community was extraordinary. From every quarter the offers of help flooded in: everybody wants to help the larger-than-life man who, swathed from head to foot in tartan and employing that selfdeprecating humour that won over everyone who ever met him, has made it his life’s mission to make people laugh.

The result is that on Monday night, 1,300 people will pack into a huge room in Battersea to pay tribute to Doddie and to raise funds for the trust set up in his name. The trust aims to further research into MND, but it also aims to help the families of those afflicted with this cruel disease. It says much about Doddie and the rugby family that we could have sold those tickets to this testimonial dinner several times over.

The amazing thing has been how even the mention of his name opens doors. Everyone we approached – whether it was Olympic legend Sir Chris Hoy or former Ryder Cup captain Sam Torrance – was falling over themselves to help. Everyone, from our headline act Kevin Bridges to hosts Gabby Logan and Rory Bremner, are giving their time and contacts as a tribute to a much-loved rugby legend whose popularity has transcended his own sport.

But the most amazing thing has been just how supportive the rugby community has been, with many unions, players and a host of grass-roots clubs across the whole of the UK and Ireland taking tables and pledging their support in a dizzying array of ways. Even before Doddie’s deeply dignified and terribly affecting television interview with John Beattie, everyone wanted to help.

I was at a Wasps legends lunch a couple of weeks ago and when Doddie spoke you could hear a pin drop. He talked with incredible dignity and as much humour as he could muster about how he has been dealt a very unlucky hand but how he plans to live every day as if it is his last. The standing ovation he received would bring a tear to a glass eye.

Now they have seen how bravely he is facing this ordeal, the offers have come flooding in, and thanks to people such as Prince Albert of Monaco, Zara Phillips and Mike Tindall, and members of the 1997 Lions team and other sporting legends, we will have the best auction prizes – genuine moneycan’t-buy items – I have ever seen at such an event.

On Monday night, we can focus on a great life, well lived. Doddie insisted that we invite people for a “night of laughter in the company of the good, the bad and the very ugly from the worlds of international rugby and comedy”, and by the time we leave at 2am we will certainly have done that. But more than anything, we will have got a chance to tell a living legend how we feel about him. The privilege will be all ours. We love you Doddie.