Doddie Weir My family moment at Murrayfield
My family are both my biggest weakness and source of strength, so keeping my emotions in check was tough, writes Doddie Weir
Iremember making my Scotland debut at Murrayfield like it was yesterday: Nov 10, 1990, against Argentina. I was already a bag of nerves that morning and then I realised I would be introduced to the Princess Royal. She asked me “how are you feeling today?” to which you are supposed to say, “very well thank you, Your Royal Highness” and then she moves on to the next player. But I was such a gibbering wreck that I just kept mumbling “yeah … umm … no … umm … not bad … umm … quite good”.
I probably would have been jabbering away for another hour had she not taken pity on me and cut me off by saying, “the very best of wishes to you”. Bless her.
The only time I have been that nervous before or since was when I was asked to present the match ball for the Scotland v New Zealand match in the autumn.
Sir Chris Hoy was the last person to receive that honour from the Scottish Rugby Union, but whereas he got his invitation for winning three golds at the Beijing Olympics, I got mine for being diagnosed with motor neurone disease. A slightly different scenario.
That whole week was overwhelming in lots of different ways. On the Wednesday, Scotland head coach Gregor Townsend invited me in to watch the team train. I was a bit apprehensive about accepting that kind offer. I felt it was a team’s environment on a Test week, not mine. I am an old player and I had my time and I should not have been there. I kept thinking the players are not going to know who I am, but they could not have been more accommodating. I had lunch with the team and John Barclay, who has been incredible with his support from day one, got up to say the boys would be donating their rugby tops from the game. That really hit me. On such a big occasion, playing the world champions, they did not have to do that. It was a wonderful statement.
Then on the Saturday, we were toying with a few different ideas of how I should present the ball. A bit like I was with the Princess, I was in a bit of a daze, so I think it may have been Townsend or Matt Taylor’s idea to bring my boys – Hamish, Angus and Ben – along as they already had their suits from the benefit dinner that Kenny Logan had organised for me in Battersea a few days previously.
At one point, I was going to have one of the boys pass me the ball.
However, Gregor reminded me that I struggled to catch a cold in my playing days and if I dropped the ball then somebody would end up scarred for life.
In the end, I decided, let’s bring the kids up to the 15-yard line and then leave them there while I continue on. In the future, that is what life will probably entail, where I go so far and then I will leave them behind. That was the symbolic nature of it.
I invariably get pretty choked up thinking about my sons and what the future holds for them. I want to see them go to university and get into bumps and scrapes so I can
Gregor reminded me that I struggled to catch a cold in my playing days and if I dropped the ball then somebody would end up scarred for life
pick them up again. I want to have a beer with each of them in the pub. I desperately want to embarrass them in front of their girlfriends. I still hope to get those opportunities.
Seeing Hamish, my eldest, start his driving lessons the other day was a hugely symbolic moment for me. When I was diagnosed 14 months ago, we had no idea what the timescale would be, so something like that takes on real significance.
They and the good lady are both my biggest weakness and source of strength. They are the single biggest reason I am so determined to tackle this horrendous disease so I and other families will get to experience a few more moments like this. They are what gives me my drive every morning.
Growing up on a farm in the Scottish Borders, you are taught not to show or express emotions. One of my coping mechanisms in those moments when I think about what the future holds for the kids, and I get a bit of dust in my eye, is to think of the Flintstones. I shout “Yabba Dabba Doo” and just run away from it. Maybe there are better strategies but that constant flood of thoughts can overwhelm you if you are not careful.
The reception I received when I walked out at Murrayfield was another oh-my-golly-gosh moment. Words cannot describe the noise, the tension, how humbled I felt, the nerves, the whole emotional connection with it all. All I was trying to concentrate on was simply putting one foot in front of the other.
The reception I received when I walked out was a oh-my-golly-gosh moment
Again, I did not expect Kieran Read or Beauden Barrett to know who this strangely dressed lummox holding their match ball was, so for them to share a few words with me was very special.
That atmosphere surrounding Murrayfield was the best I can remember for a long, long time. It is such a special place for me. There are so many emotions and memories that come flooding back whenever I make the trip there, like I will this Sunday for the France match.
With the way the team were playing in the autumn, the atmosphere was electric and right up there with the old days when I was involved. Same for Australia the following week.
I am sure the Scottish supporters will maintain that level of passion for the France game and give the team the lift they need after what happened in Cardiff. Despite the result against Wales, it was amazing to spend some time with Scott Quinnell, my old mate from the 1997 Lions tour. He is such a good friend, I had to use my Fred Flintstone tactic a few times in his presence.
On a more positive note, we launched the Doddie Gump last week, which we hope will raise some awareness around MND as well as helping people to do a touch more exercise. We have already got Jonny Wilkinson, Sam Warburton, John Barclay, Brian O’driscoll and Richie Mccaw on board, but anyone can sign up.
Any form of measurable exercise counts towards your country’s total, even if it is just a walk to the shops. At the moment, Scotland have built a sizeable lead. Hopefully, we do not get pipped at the end like we normally do in the Six Nations.
For more information on the Doddie Weir Foundation or to donate go to myname5doddie.co.uk and doddiegump.com