Scotland star Stuart Hogg reveals true toll of elite sport as he prepares to retire

“I’m actually starting to shake a little,” says Stuart Hogg, with tears in his eyes as he recalls the early days when JK Rowling compared him to a wizard from her Harry Potter novels.

After half an hour of baring his soul in a farewell interview, he allows himself to reminisce about the young boy from Hawick who turned defenders to stone and cast spells with his footwork.

“If I could switch back to that mentality now, I would play forever. I was green and naive to everything. It was unbelievable because I had not a care in the world.

“JK Rowling calls me a magician…it’s weird. She’s an icon. When I posted the announcement about my retirement on Twitter, one of my wife’s friends took a screenshot of a reply from JK Rowling and forwarded it.

“Some people I’ve met… a boy from Hawick shouldn’t do that. We’ve had Gerard Butler in the dressing rooms and I sat there thinking “I watched a movie with him a few weeks ago”. It’s been an absolute dream.’

The Scottish magician is approaching his final. His vanishing act. At 30 years old, he knows his powers have faded, battered out of him, both physically and mentally.

“I come to Exeter now to train and see Josh Hodge running around like a bluefly. He’s everywhere. Every day. F****** everywhere. I remember years and years ago when I was exactly the same. The guys were like, “One day you’re going to burn out, your body is going to hit you”. I was in denial about everything. I thought, “No, that will never happen to me, it will be fine”.

“It was the 2021 Six Nations: bang. It was as if I had been hit by a double-decker bus that had backed over me. I thought, “What the hell happened?” Since then every week has been a matter of continuing. My wife says I wake her every time I get up at night to pee because my knees or ankles creak.

“Eventually, body and mind take over. For all that rugby has given me, an incredible lifestyle, it has battered my body. I thought I would play until I was 35 or 36, but suddenly it dawned on me.’

While poking his nostril, he shows how his nose is bent so far that he can no longer put his finger in it. Then he pulls back his left eyelid to show how his eyeball is reclined two millimeters from its natural position after breaking the eye socket during the 2017 Lions tour. He then lists the surgeries on his wrist, ankles, knee, shoulder, repeatedly stitching his body back together.

“Gregor Townsend posted a montage for my 100th cap at the Six Nations and it brought me a little tears. Everyone went quiet and I said, “F***, I was actually pretty good!” I’m nowhere near the standards I’m trying to uphold now and that’s what breaks me the most. That’s my body telling me it’s time.

“In the early stages of my career, when I didn’t care, I would go out and try things and then it would work. Now rugby is built on defences. I’ve adapted and, to be honest, I’m proud of it because I’m not the guy who makes 70 yards breaks or beats five defenders anymore.

He continues: ‘The time for a change came last summer when my little man asked me to play in the garden. I said, “No, sorry, I just can’t”. Then I told Gill something had to change. I want to be the best father and husband I can be. That will be my focus now.

“It was always my plan to retire internationally after the World Cup, but I decided to go all out. My wife says I’m a completely different person since I made the decision and that’s pretty scary. It put me at ease. This is my 14th season and I feel comfortable walking away.”

The new house is already sorted. A small farm with its own stables on the outskirts of Hawick. He goes back to his roots and already takes the horses on the 400 mile ride from Exeter to the Scottish Borders.

“We brought the horses up just before the Six Nations. One hell of a ride. I took them in the box. It took forever to drive my old school Defender into the trailer with my pride and joy.

“We have three horses: Arrow, Graystown, and Rusk. I love them dearly, and the two dogs. They are the best things ever. They never talk back to you. One of my very first jobs was driving at the bottom of town. I was small. I’ve always loved horses. I wanted to be a jockey. I’d have to lose a few pounds to get back out riding, but I’d love to get down and drive the truck.

‘What I think about most is when I’m mucking out the stables. I’m excited to go back and just walk the fields. No phone signal. The stables will be about 50 meters from the house. I’ve never really sat back and thought, so it’s probably going to hit me all over there and I’ll fall apart in a blubbery mess.”

Their new home is a stone’s throw from where Gill grew up. They are welcomed back with open arms. Old friends never left and Hogg could be lured in for one last gig for his local club. ‘My father is the director of rugby and my brother is the backs coach. I played one season for Hawick and it was the best season I’ve had. I’m sure there will come a time when I put on that green sweater. I would like to board one of the bus tours. My dad actually said, “You do realize you said you’re quitting professional rugby… we’re amateur!”‘

The amateur days now feel like a distant memory. Professionalism has taken its toll. Throughout his career, Hogg has always had swagger on the field, but there’s another side that hasn’t been so obvious.

“I’m bad at biting my nails… look at how they’re doing,” he says, holding out his hands.

‘I sit in meetings and get nervous about playing rugby and ask if I can do it. It’s weird. I’ve been sick of it in the past. It makes me nervous. I’m worried about f****** up and letting the team down then you get taken advantage of on social media. It can be a vicious circle. I’ve always hated losing, but sometimes winning is just a sense of relief. It’s, “We did it, thank God”.

‘Professionalism is 24/7. Rugby is taking over. As I drive in, I think, ‘Will I be on time? Will there be a traffic jam?” I always pack my bag the night before training, zip it up and check it again in the morning. If it wasn’t packaged in some way I’d worry it would affect my performance.

“I’ve had help with it over the years and having kids was the best thing that ever happened to me. Rugby plays a lot with your emotions and I am a very emotional person. I will be eternally grateful for everything rugby has given me, but will I be more relaxed if I don’t play? 100%. That I look forward to.’

Life is governed by the demands of the game. Hypnotized by the pressure to perform.

“I read an article about Eve Muirhead, the Scottish curler, and she used the word ‘trapped’. I read it and got a tear in my eye. I showed it to Gill and she said, “Is she talking about you?” That’s exactly what was going through my head. It was literally how I felt. Then I realized I was not alone. People only see Stuart Hogg the rugby player and rate the 80 minutes. They don’t see all the other things I’ve always had.

“I have a cold tank at home and sitting in it is the only time I really feel present. You can’t take your phone with you, it’s Baltic and you focus on your breathing. That’s the only time I feel really comfortable with anything. I’m there twice a day, quite turn off, I love it.

“For the past year or so, the word that kept popping into my head was change. I thought the change would mean taking the Scotland captain away from me, but it felt exactly the same. The change is now completely gone. It’s weird how the mind works, but I’m genuinely excited about everything. I don’t hold a grudge against rugby at all. I’m comfortable with my decision, I’m comfortable with what I’ve done in the game and I’m genuinely excited about life after rugby. I loved it and it would always end at some point.”

We have not yet reached that point. Named on the bench today, he hopes to help Exeter beat heavyweights La Rochelle to reach the Heineken Champions Cup final. And later this year is the World Cup in France, where Hogg hopes to sprinkle the last drops of magic dust in his tale of rugby wizardry.