Do you remember the first World Cup Sevens at Murrayfield four years ago? There were pockets of fans huddled together in the stands for the first two days. It was cold and wet and the islanders were suffering, along with everybody else. Except for England - they revelled in the conditions. The stadium filled for day three and eventually came to life when England faced Australia in the final. The two teams limped on to the field and the Scottish fans united in their common desire to see England lose. Andrew Harriman disappointed them with his timely runs, and the well-balanced English side won. Hong Kong's single highlight was coming from behind to beat Namibia, who had beaten us in the final of the World Cup qualifying Sicily Sevens. We were bad. They were worse. I think we will all have a bit more fun this time around. There is a fair amount of significance with this year's Sevens. This is the second World Cup Sevens and it is also the last Hong Kong Sevens under British rule. In my opinion you can call the tournament whatever you want to. Hang the title sponsors' and sovereign ruler's flags from the clam shell rafters. It doesn't matter; it's party time, Hong Kong Sevens style. It is unquestionably the crowd and their unabashed capacity for spontaneous fun that make the Hong Kong Sevens the greatest tournament of its kind. For a player there are three special moments you can relish, and they all exist because of the fans. The first is when you take the field for the first time. The adrenalin rush is huge. I can still remember running out for the first time against Wales in 1990. I was telling myself to calm down while my heart was telling me to go, go, go! We lost 6-4 in one of the lowest scoring games of all time. I snuck in a try in the corner for a consolation. The second special moment is the parade on Sunday. Every player gets to experience this one if he is still walking. This is the time when the fans and the players come together. Many of the fans are smashed, and even if they're not, they are having a great time. The players are thinking, 'thanks for providing as amazing atmosphere for me to try and show-off in', and the fans are thinking, 'Well done guys, great excuse for a party'. The south stand isn't thinking at all. At this point it's pure animal instinct, and great entertainment value for the players. I was knocked out in the Plate quarter-final in 1990 and didn't know what was going on or why we were parading. My teammate and friend Gary Cross led me around the stadium. When we finished I asked him if we could do it again. Last year at our last training run, the morning of the Tonga game, we were caught in a massive thunderstorm in Happy Valley. We sought shelter in an army tent by the side of the field. With nothing better to do we had a parade in honour of Crossy, 10 men marching in a circle, waving at the canvas while the flapping canvas waved back at us in the wind and rain. The most spectacular moment a player can experience is to win a final and do a victory lap with his team. They give you a mug for your efforts and no matter how many times you drain it, it's always full. In seven years I've been fortunate enough to do it four times. I savoured every drop. 1992 was the year it bucketed down all weekend. It was the last year of the old stadium that sevens veterans loved because of the concourse around the field that allowed fans to socialise and watch games simultaneously. It was a year for diehard fans because the roof only covered two grandstands. We ground our way into the Plate final against Tonga. They were leading the whole game but we never gave up. Crossy was out there, along with our captain and scrum-half, a brilliant Sevens player, Craig Pain. And we had a wiry Australian winger with a knack for timely tries, Stewart Brew. Brew tied the game with no time left in a race for the corner. We won the game in sudden death and saluted fans with a belly flop. A new generation of players has arrived since and the tournament has become much more competitive. Players like Isi Tu'ivai, Vaughan Going, Rodney McIntosh and Stephen Kidd, along with our coach, George Simpkin, have enabled me to prolong my adolescence well into my 30s. We've satisfied ourselves with scalps from top sides and a couple of Bowls. This tournament will be the toughest ever because every team had to qualify and there will be quantity of talent on display, old and new. Three teams will be happy to take home silverware. The other 40,000 people are going to have a ball of another sort, because they've come to play as well.