Pic: saintho/Getty
Dr Garrett FitzGerald laments the loss of open, free-flowing Rugby that allowed little guys like him to get involved, as well as worrying about the long-term risks of a more forceful style of play.
The day of the near-dwarf scrum-half is at an end. I played at ‘9’ for 22 years. To be honest about the thing, I was close enough to solid useless but enjoyed it greatly all the same. Two or three tackles in a match was about all that was expected of a player of average enthusiasm. The recipients were always bigger and heavier but they moved slowly and obesely as second-row men did in those times.
My last game was in Ballinasloe playing for Corinthians of Galway. For the first time ever, I got kicked in the head — because I was slowing up. They subsequently elevated the offending clergyman (whose dirty boot it was) to archbishop, but I doubt the two incidents were related. No concussion followed, but I chose not to play again. Since then, I have just watched the game.
In the 1990s, Rugby became professional. The game speeded up and became more watchable. Since then, the players have become bigger and fitter, the hits are much more frequent, the forces imparted are much more violent and the injuries more frequent and serious.
In the winter of 2010, one-third of all players in the Premiership in England were out with injury at the same time. Defensive strategies, many imported from Rugby League, have been implemented everywhere (including, depressingly, schools Rugby). The pitch has very few unmanned spaces these days.
All this change has led to the game becoming less watchable — if ‘open’ Rugby is what does it for you. Inside centres are huge and used as battering rams. There is no place for the ‘classy’ little fella any more.
Like in modern golf, the traditional course/pitch is now too small. Thirty superbly fit giants make the playing area too small. Bigger, more forceful and more frequent hits happen in this relatively small space. The very best players seem to suffer the most.
In the past couple of weeks, two of the most effective players of all time retired; Jonny Wilkinson and Brian O’Driscoll. Both were no strangers to serious skeletal injuries during their long playing careers.
Drico’s last two games were disappointing for him and for us as he had to go off injured in each — his body lasted only eight minutes in his final game.
Stephen Ferris called it a day in the past week because of an ‘unfixable’ ankle. So many of our great talents seem to have suffered injuries way above the call of duty; Keith Earls, Sean O’Brien, Luke Fitzgerald, Barry Murphy, David Wallace to name a few. We have no idea what the long-term skeletal sequelae will be.
The skills and body-hardening regimes of the professionals offer a degree of protection against more serious skeletal injuries. Changes in scrummaging techniques and laws appear to have reduced the incidence of catastrophic spinal damage. There are, however, no magic techniques or fitness regimes to toughen the brain.
Although there is still some controversy (Brian O’Driscoll’s uncle Barry recently resigned in protest from the International Rugby Board’s medical committee) about ‘rules’ for concussion, at least some effort is being made to protect the players.
In the United States, the excreted stuff has hit the fan. Over the past decade, attention has dramatically focused on Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) ever since the death of ‘Iron Mike’ Webster of the Pittsburg Steelers (National Football League) team.
The NFL did everything in the ‘trick-book’ to discredit medical evidence for this dementing disorder in former players (who had repeated concussive injuries during their playing careers), but the number of cases just piled up until the evidence became overwhelming and irrefutable.
They are still splitting hairs on whether there is a proven linear causative relationship between football injury and the subsequent development of CTE. They have nevertheless agreed a compensatory package of circa US$750 million (€550m).
What is most worrying (in the American Football context) is the suggestion (and some confirmatory autopsy studies) that repeated mini-concussive or ‘sub-concussive’ hits can produce CTE.
There have also been some reports of CTE occurring in school/college players in their twenties. One cannot obviously translate the hits (with helmets, mind) of American football to rugby union. There is no longitudinal study showing CTE in former rugby union players. Yet, it is worth quoting two extracts from Graham Lawton in the New Scientist (March, 2014): “Neurologists have long suspected that other contact sports might also lead to CTE — particularly rugby union because of its emphasis on high-speed ‘hits’. Concussion is the fourth most common injury in the professional game.”
and . . . .
“At least one former rugby union player has been confirmed as having CTE. Barry ‘Tizza’ Taylor, who played for 19 years in Australia, died last year after a long battle with dementia. New Scientist understands that another deceased player’s brain has also recently been diagnosed in the UK.”
My biggest worry is about the sub-concussive guys!