I’m afraid that Ulster rugby matters will have to wait for a week as I feel obliged to mention the important occasion taking place this weekend on the east coast of Scotland.

The 150th anniversary, the Sesquicentennial, of St Andrews University RFC is being celebrated with a weekend of special events, the highlight of which is a fixture between Scotland Legends, featuring the Hastings brothers, and a South Africa Legends XV, managed by World Cup winning coach, Jake White.

St Andrews holds a unique position and affection for me - as an 18-year-old, who felt a long way from home, the University rugby club provided me with an immediate circle of like-minded individuals and the framework within which my life and education at St. Andrews would be nurtured and gave true meaning to the term “alma mater”.

First of all was its contribution to the so-called “academic family”.

St. Andrews has a tradition whereby older students adopt first year students as “children”. In a system of mentoring, these parents then help guide their offspring through life at the university, culminating in an outrageous “Raisin Sunday” in November where children are dressed in embarrassing flamboyant costumes and let loose in the central quad for an enormous fight involving all kinds of horrible substances.

Before you ask - my academic brother and I were dressed as Adam and Eve and I’m not prepared to comment further, apart from that it was very cold.

Whenever anyone asked who was my academic father and I replied, Gary Anderson, the then Secretary of the Rugby Club, I only ever encountered the same reaction - a look of shock, a shake of the head and the comment, “you poor lad”.

To be fair to him, Gary looked after me well, took great pleasure in participating in these traditions and seemed to find humour in most things, including me being violently sick on Raisin Sunday.

I still love that bold symbol – the Cross of St Andrews. This fusion of past and present gave a strong sense of tradition and crucially provided huge motivation to give your utmost on the pitch. It may only have been university rugby, but the emotion was exactly the same as pulling on the red hand of Ulster or the shamrock of Ireland.

Splendid inter-university games on a Wednesday afternoon were more than counterbalanced by National League rugby on a Saturday.

Despite my Ulster accent, it appeared that the opposition regularly assumed that we were all English public schoolboys and went about trying to right the wrongs of Culloden.

When the final whistle had blown, however, a much warmer atmosphere convened in the Students Union, where a bridie and chips provided the perfect tonic. Bawdy rugby songs usually featured, including some poor soul having to “shoot the boot”, a particularly mature tradition whereby beer was drunk from a muddy rugby boot worn that same afternoon.

As the sport becomes increasingly professional in terms of training, preparation and scrutiny, I can’t help thinking that, in terms of pure enjoyment, university rugby was as good as it gets.

The unbeatable Ulster team of the 1980s was spawned at Queens University and, while they all went on to even greater things, I’m sure that the Crossans, Ringlands and Carrs of those days would back me up on the enjoyment of their university time.

To compete in a team alongside a bunch of mates, to experience the intensity of a changing-room atmosphere and the mischievous bonhomie afterwards, and to endure the highs and lows of winning and losing – that is still what rugby represents for the vast majority of players.

While my days at St. Andrews are now a distant memory, surely they still have important lessons for the sport.

Even in the professional game, you should never lose sight of what attracted you to the game in the first place.

The money is a welcome recognition and benefit of being particularly good and will inevitably play a major role. However, something much more fundamental is at work and sometimes when you feel under immense pressure, it’s worthwhile taking a step back and reflecting on just how lucky you are to be so actively involved in such a great team sport.

As we all get older and, in our minds, become even better players than we ever were, the friendships forged are what remain.

In my first year at St. Andrews in 1989, “Fresher of the Year” went to a cracking player called Noel Askew, who was one of the best fullbacks I have ever played with. The name may not be familiar. It might have been, had he not torn his ACL early in his second year which effectively ended any chance of a prospective rugby career.

“Askew” has lived in Sydney for the last 15 years, but we have been respective “best men” for each other.

Rose-tinted glasses are an occupational hazard, and rugby is no different, but there is really no great need for nostalgia, as due to these friendships, the past merges seamlessly into the present and forms the foundation for the future.

St Andrews University RFC lives on.