There has been a great deal of debate on head injuries in rugby union, the way in which injuries are treated and their potential long term effects. The former Scottish rugby player John Beattie was on the radio the other day saying that he feared for the future of George North, the Welsh winger, who gets knocked out every other week, or something mad like that. North’s club got a rollocking from the Rugby Football Union (RFU) the other day for allowing North to carry on playing after he’d been knocked out. Well done the RFU. But what should have happened?
It’s gradually becoming the norm that if a player loses consciousness he plays no longer. The player could be concussed, the latest head injury could be the stepping stone to dementia in late middle age or even before. Beattie said as much. In fact, he knew ex players who were suffering from dementia. This was no laughing matter. Basically, the player leaves the pitch on doctor’s orders. Makes sense.
Goodness knows what will happen in local club rugby union where doctors are not always immediately at hand. Who is carrying out the concussion checks? One of the coaches who dowses the player in cold water? “That should do the trick!” Players are notorious (notoriously stupid?) at admitting they are injured. “I’m fine, I’ll just run it off. Who are you again?” And off the player goes, head swimming, hoping that the dizziness wears off before everyone goes on the lash after the game.
Personally, I am glad that none of my children ever fancied playing rugby. For all the camaraderie and so on, the dentist bills would be insane and I’d have been routinely petrified every time one of the lads landed head first on try ground or if they were knocked out. I have the feeling doctors and scientists may have a point when it comes to brain injuries, certainly a better one that the “it will never happen to me” brigade.
If rugby union players should be removed from the pitch every time they suffer head trauma, than how about, say, boxers? The whole point of the “sweet science” is, after all, to render the opponent unconscious. Can you imagine how a “tear up” or a “war” would be policed by doctors? Boxer A bangs Boxer B on the chin in the first second of a fight. Doctor pulls Boxer B to a neutral corner and determines, after a thorough examination, that he is fit to to continue in safety. Then, as the fight resumes, Boxer B gets thumped on the nose and staggers a little before regaining his poise. In comes the doctor again who tells the cornermen to stop the bleeding and against determines that, in his opinion, he is still not concussed. Then, repeat at frequent intervals for the rest of the fight which lasts approximately three hours. Or until the doctor assesses Boxer B is finally suffering from concussion. Some of these checks may require visits to the backstage areas. Nah – just get those smelling salts ready!
I’d imagine the boxing fraternity wishes debates on concussion would disappear altogether. After all, who hasn’t winced every time a former fighter mumbles and slurs his way through a media interview, the irreversible damage caused half a lifetime ago?
Are we in danger of banning stuff because it’s dangerous? Hardly. If there’s money to be made – lots of it – the occasional fatality will be put down as a blip. The unseen stuff will come along later on and people will pretend that none of it was caused by rugby or boxing.
If you keep getting knocked down and knocked out by blokes who weight 20 stone, your brain will feel the effects. If the effects are minimal and don’t change your life, then lucky you. The fortunate thing is that if you are a professional athlete there will be medical provision close at hand. In a small hall or local club, there won’t be. Well, it costs money, doesn’t it?
