Donal Lenihan

 

TUESDAY's passing of the doyen of rugby commentary, the BBC's  Bill McLaren,  has severed another link with the amateur era of international rugby. While the Cot overlapped with the early days of professionalism, broadcasting until 2002 at the great age of 78, his voice and that of our own Fred Cogley conjure great personal memories from my earliest days watching international rugby on the television to my own career on the field of play.

McLaren was a wonderful man whose company I greatly enjoyed as his love and passion for the game was manifestly evident, even in the briefest of conversations. His attention to detail was second to none and his presence on the side of the pitch for your final run out on the eve of an international was a constant reminder there was a huge occasion looming. He would always insist on meeting a new cap or a new arrival on the replacements bench in order to familiarise himself with any features like a moustache, a head band, a bald patch or something distinctive.

Remember, this was all pre the Sky Sports revolution, and rugby did not enjoy the same platform it is now elevated on. Consequently, it was entirely probable that McLaren would never have seen a new Irish cap play at any level prior to his debut. Every time we would meet, the compulsory tin of Hawick balls – hard boiled sweets that weren’t particularly nice to be honest – would be produced. You daren’t refuse them.

To get a positive comment from the famous “voice of rugby” in the old days of the five man selection committee was almost worth a vote as if McLaren thought you were a decent player, chances were you would hold your place on the team. In the course of my third cap in a famous victory over England in Twickenham, after winning a few lineouts, McLaren labelled me “the spring-heeled Donal Lenihan”.

For years in clubs and pubs around Ireland that line was thrown at me. For a young man setting out on an international career that one comment did me no harm at all.

Many amateur commentators made an art out of attepmting to ape the comments of the famous Borders PE teacher as their après match party piece in rugby club houses around the country. He had that effect on people. As play by play analysis increased with the advent of professionalism, coaches became increasingly paranoid about who was watching a training run, thus the majority of sessions were closed to the media. One always made an exception, however, for the Captain’s Run on a Friday when Bill would call and ask if it was possible to attend. His standing and respect in the game meant that request was always granted.

He will be missed but his voice will live on.