My sporting Saturday’s would have begun at an early age, and, as most would have guessed, my first sport – some would say only sport – was shinty. I was just six-years-old when I got my first stick, a full size, adult stick, which was the way back then. They were relatively expensive, so you didn’t dare cut it. You just grew in to it!

I also grew up in a very sporting street. In the village of Caol near Fort William, Duncan Shearer (the former Aberdeen striker) and his family lived there, and Donald Park - Malky Mackay’s No.2 at the SFA – was a mean shinty player when he was younger.

At school the teachers put a high tariff on our participation in sport. We had access to the local school playground, even out of school, and there was a big, goal-sized shelter that we would use for whatever we played, and with whatever we were playing with; shinty, or, with footballs, tennis balls, any size or type of ball.

The only ball we didn’t get our hands on was, ironically, given how much I talk about the sport now, was a rugby ball. I was in fourth year at high school before I was introduce to one. It was a short-lived career - as hormones took over around the same time.

For some reason, and I’ve no idea why, I began listening to Test cricket on the radio. Strange but true, but that was the way a lot of the sport was delivered back in the 60’s. Live football on TV was rare – so were televisions. But I can recall watching the 1966 World Cup final on a beautifully sunny day on Harris (where TV was a novelty), although the picture was so poor it looked like it was snowing at Wembley. Then there was Celtic in 1967, against Inter Milan, which we almost didn’t see because of a massive power blackout.

I’m never sure if that game is more memorable or made more dramatic because of Celtic winning or the electricity being cut off. Thankfully it came back on in time. At the National Library, we have a set of Italian newspapers from the morning after, acknowledging Celtic’s triumph. I’d imagine a few will be checking those out in coming weeks.

The Commonwealth Games of 1970, in Edinburgh, are also still etched in the memory, again, because it was something we’d never seen before; Lachie Stewart, Ian Stewart, Ian McCafferty. Iconic moments in Scottish sport. And all in black and white.

I was a decent, not brilliant, shinty player, but, while studying at university I missed a lot of playing time which meant I became more involved in the secretarial and administration side of things, which kind of led in to the writing and broadcasting.

Back in 1982, I had been teaching (“you always will have teaching to fall back on if it all goes wrong,” said my unconvinced mother, more than once) when I was head-hunted by the BBC, mainly because I was Gaelic speaking.

That opened up a route for me to report on various things, including Highland League football, and the following year I got to attend England v Scotland at Wembley with David Francey, who was the man in commentary terms for BBC Scotland back then; we were picked up in a big car at the Beeb to take us up Wembley Way. I don’t recall much of the game, except Charlie Nicholas come on as sub, but I remember David’s simple instruction – “don’t speak until I touch your elbow!”

That was on the Wednesday. On the Saturday, we then did the Camanachd Cup final, my first commentary. He didn’t have a clue about shinty, so I had to coach him through it. But you learned so much from him, and Alastair Alexander and David Begg. Total professionals.

1983, eh? I’m probably the longest serving commentator left now at the BBC now Bill Johnstone has retired. And I’ve not been found out.

Being a commentator, you listen and learn from everyone. When I was very young, I enjoyed the very unique style of Eddie Waring when he did the rugby league, while Cliff Morgan’s iconic Welsh tones were so easy on the ear. Totally different but entirely unique and identifiable.

Everything I have done or achieved has been through two things; sport and Gaelic, including one of my greatest memories of all – playing against George Best. There, you didn’t expect that.

But when he was at Hibs, the Highland press football team played Hibs on one of their tours. Best scored from two corners, and nutmegged me. I was at right-back, he ran at me and with a dip of the shoulder, drifted past me and stuck the ball through my legs.

I probably wouldn’t have even got to him with my shinty stick. When that happens, you just have to acknowledge genius and laugh.