Bill McLaren

Published on Wednesday 20 January 2010 21:25

The 'voice of rugby'

Born: 16 October, 1923, in Hawick. Died: 19 January, 2010, in Hawick, aged 86.

WHERE does one start to tell the story of a man with a life as rich and as full as that of Bill McLaren – a man who entered living rooms across the world through the medium of television and instantly became one of the family; a man whose death this week felt akin to the loss of a close friend or relative, even to many who had never met him.

That alone attests to the esteem in which McLaren was held. Tributes around the world have a common refrain that he was kind, generous, warm-hearted, humorous, unfailingly unbiased in his commentaries and without bitterness, underlining not only the kind of character he was but just how many people from all walks of life knew it.

He was not a rugby player of the highest level, nor a coach or official of great standing, but what he brought to rugby marked him out as a unique and special part of the sport. The warm, encouraging voice was simply his, though he worked on inflection to ensure he was always clear and understood. He learned the value of research from doyens of commentary before him and applied it with the McLaren dedication to detail; the famous lines, the metaphors, similes and onomatopoeia were what he felt he wanted to hear from a commentator and he turned it into his art, in a way others have tried and failed to reproduce as naturally.

From the moment he took to the airwaves in 1953, commentating on Scotland's Five Nations championship match against Wales, to the moment in 2002 when he laid down his microphone for the final time in the international arena, fittingly when Scotland again met Wales – a nation he often termed his "second" so warmly did the Welsh take him to their heart – this time in Cardiff, the colour, enthusiasm and sense of fair play in which he enwrapped a game of rugby amounted to far more than a mere commentary.

William Pollock McLaren was born in Hawick in 1923 to Murdoch McLaren and Margaret Sutherland Guy, Murdoch having come to Hawick from Bonhill in Dunbartonshire to work for a knitwear firm and duly fallen in love with local girl "Maggie". They had three children, Jessie, William Pollock and Kit, now the last surviving member of the family.

Murdoch was a football man, but he took to Hawick life with enthusiasm and his love of sport moved him to rugby, where he introduced young Bill to the "Greens" and Scotland, whom Bill first watched play against Ireland at the age of eight. Aged 12 he and his father joined the throng heading south to Twickenham for his first experience of London and a Calcutta Cup match, but by then he was already showing signs of interest in a career that was to make him famous across the globe.

He liked to organise matches outside his home and invite friends to take the parts of the players while he commentated from the wall. He enjoyed trying to mimic the radio commentators of the time, notably Howard Marshall and HBT Wakelam, and this was also where he began his legendary research, putting together as many facts and figures as he could find to create a game.

He was encouraged by his parents and though a decent scholar at the high school he often said his favourite subjects were rugby, rugby and rugby. He also liked French and found that useful on more than one occasion in dealing with French players and coaches.

However, what he saw a rather idyllic existence was turned upside down by two life-changing experiences after he left school. He had already made his senior debut for the Hawick 1st XV, as a stand-off and centre, when he was called up for active service in the Second World War. During six weeks' training at Catterick he was earmarked for officer status, his leadership qualities quickly spotted, and he followed in his father's steps by being assigned to the Royal Artillery, 2nd Lieutenant 281771, undergoing officer training at Alton Towers in Staffordshire.

After a spell in north Africa he was sent to Italy and given the task of leading the Allied attack on a German defence across the middle of Italy, barring entry to the north. He found himself at the centre of one of the bloodiest battles between the Allies and the Germans anywhere in the war, at Monte Cassino.

He later termed his war experience "a vision of hell on earth" and recounted how he diced with death on more than one occasion. Perhaps the most telling indictment of the terror he felt came in the way his memory, ravaged by dementia in recent years, was still able to thrust forward vivid images of dark nights spent alone on the hillside, trying to find ways of breaching the German defences, or of coming upon thousands of dead soldiers piled in heaps.

When the war was over Temporary Captain McLaren was entrusted with running a jail in Milan, then offered a full-time career in the British forces, but he turned it down at the last-minute, his pen hovering above the paper to sign, as he could not bear the thought of being away from Hawick for 20-plus years.

That spell in Milan was to provide the next great battle, one that came so close to claiming his life that McLaren admitted there were times he would have preferred death. It was the dreaded illness of tuberculosis. McLaren had returned to Hawick and enrolled to study PE teaching at Woolmanhill College in Aberdeen. He had also, more importantly, met the woman of his dreams, Bette, at a Hawick Town Hall dance and her love was to play a major part in getting him through TB.

His love of rugby was also reignited on his return to Hawick and he switched to the flanker position, where he had enjoyed a few run-outs in the army. He proved as adept a flanker as he had been behind the scrum and was picked for a Scotland trial, but had the misfortune to come up against the formidable back row figure of WI Douglas Elliot.

He did not win selection for Scotland then, but something else troubled him. He was beginning to get out of puff running home from Bette's house, or in training in Aberdeen. A check-up initially found nothing, but he went back months later when his fitness did not pick up and this time TB, for which there was then no known cure, was discovered. He spent six months in Bangour Hospital and then nearly two years in East Fortune Sanatorium, and with friends dying on a regular basis around him began to fear the worst. He described the fear of dying as worse there than in the war, as weekly injections and trials of various treatments came to nothing.

The one constant was the daily visits from Bette, who became a solid companion. He said many times that he felt he owed it to her, and her undying love, to keep fighting for his life, which was why he agreed to trial streptomycin when doctors offered it.

It proved a miracle for McLaren and many other patients, improvement coming within weeks as huge lung cavities began to reduce until they were hardly visible. It is only when one realises how close he came to death for a second time that one appreciates how he quickly came to terms with the realisation that he would not be fit enough to play rugby.

His other main desire, to be a PE teacher, was also put on hold by the doctors, so he turned to journalism, where a job as a junior reporter on the Hawick Express allowed him to watch Hawick play every week, and be paid for it.

It was also the opportunity that sparked a career in broadcasting, the Express editor, John Hood, using his contacts with the BBC to recommend McLaren as a budding commentator. By then Bill and Bette had married and in 1952 they were blessed with the birth of Linda, followed in 1954 by Janie.

They were special years for the devoted father he was to become, but also for the promising commentator as, after trials in 1952, he was handed the chance to commentate on international rugby for BBC radio. He began to build up his confidence on radio, and developed the skills needed to provide a picture of what was going on.

His life had turned around for the better and his hopes of a PE career were also realised when, in 1959, he successfully applied for a post in his home town, where he would teach PE to pupils at primary schools and Hawick High. He was known as a strict, firm teacher, not to be messed with, but also remembered fondly by many as their first "coach". Among these were Jim Renwick, Colin Deans and Tony Stanger, who would all go on to represent Scotland and the British and Irish Lions.

His knowledge of the game was already sound, but he worked diligently to improve it, speaking with players and coaches at every chance, and this became a staple of his preparation for commentating which brought him into contact with the leading figures in world rugby. But he was always welcome, his warm spirit, good humour and eagerness to engage making it easy for people quickly to become friends.

He was that type, the kind who would not only always stop and say hello, but who also had a word of encouragement for those who needed it..

McLaren had some highlights in commentating, none greater that when his son-in-law Alan Lawson scored two tries for Scotland against England at Murrayfield in 1976, yet many have remarked how it was impossible to detect any greater affection in the commentary for this try than another, such was his unfailingly unbiased approach.

McLaren received an MBE for services to broadcasting, followed by an OBE and CBE, just seven years ago. A campaign for a knighthood had gathered more than 5,000 supporters before his death, and will continue posthumously. But, still, there was another tragedy awaiting.

In 2000, Bill and Bette's daughter Janie died after a battle with cancer and her passing tore out a huge part of the McLarens' hearts. The family had always been close, a condition of Bill's work for the BBC being that he must always be able to get home from any game he was covering to avoid time away from them.

The pride he felt in watching Janie's sons Alex and James emerge as strong, intelligent men in their own right (James last year won a Scotland "A" cap and is now poised for a full international step-up) and the enjoyment he received in following Linda's sons Gregor and Rory (who plays for Gloucester and is now an experienced internationalist) and daughter Lindsay were of immense support to Bill and Bette.

He decided to quit commentating in 2002, finishing at the Melrose Sevens that year, fearing he was losing his sharpness and sure he wanted to go out at the top. His last international was Wales v Scotland, and he received a special Scotland jersey from two of his favourite players, Gregor Townsend and Chris Paterson. He continued to remark up until his death that he was an extremely lucky man who did not deserve the many accolades bestowed upon him.

What he would have made of the tributes that have poured in from around the world in the past 48 hours is unfathomable. He was a modest, generous, kind-hearted man who lived for his family, rugby and Hawick, but Bill McLaren was truly a one-off, and rugby, Scotland and all who met him were the great beneficiaries. He will be hugely missed.