Rugby union has been a huge part of my life for more than 30 years. I started playing at the age of seven for my local village club, Painswick RFC, the oldest village rugby club in England, proudly known as The Original Cherry & Whites. Its history is woven into the sport itself — in 1873 the club famously lent shirts to Gloucester RFC, which led to Gloucester adopting the iconic cherry and white colours still worn today.

By the age of ten, I was training with adult teams (non-contact). At fifteen, I was playing for my county side as well as Painswick’s men’s 1st and 2nd teams, alongside my school team. By sixteen, I was representing district and South West teams, sometimes playing four or five matches a week and training every day — even out of season. One year, I played in the Stroud Combination Cup finals for both the adult 1st and 2nd teams on the same day, then turned out for my age-grade team the following day. Rugby wasn’t just something I did — it was my entire world. My ambition was simple: to play professionally.

That dream was derailed at eighteen when I suffered a serious knee injury. After surgery and rehabilitation, I returned to the game I loved — only to endure repeated trauma. By the time I sustained my fifth major knee injury, requiring reconstructive surgery to cartilage and ligaments, my body was already paying a heavy price. Over three decades of playing, I experienced countless injuries, including nerve damage that left me in a wheelchair for two years.

As for concussions — I lost count. Like so many players of my generation, I was treated with the “magic sponge,” cold water, or smelling salts to mask symptoms so I could keep playing. Looking back, I now understand how dangerous that culture was. If I had known then what we know now, I would never have allowed anyone to pressure me into continuing to play while clearly concussed.

By 2010, I was still playing every weekend and competing in sevens rugby during the off-season, but the toll on my brain health was becoming impossible to ignore. I developed frequent headaches that painkillers barely touched, sensitivity to light, and a steady decline in my mental health. Depression set in, followed by suicidal thoughts. I turned to binge drinking and gambling in an attempt to quiet the constant noise in my head. I drank heavily every weekend — not for fun, but to escape.

Everything came to a head just before the second COVID lockdown, when I drank to excess and attempted to take my own life. In a strange way, the lockdown saved me. It cut off access to pubs and clubs that were feeding my addiction. Jen found a local men’s peer support group, and attending it became a turning point. I’m not ashamed to say that support group saved my life — and my marriage.

Despite this, my physical and mental health continued to decline, and we had no idea why. When my cognitive abilities began to deteriorate, I genuinely believed I was losing my mind. Jen would joke that my memory was like Dory from Finding Nemo. We didn’t realise that I was living with Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy and early-onset dementia.

In 2024, after brain imaging and cognitive testing, I was diagnosed with probable CTE and dementia at the age of 41. Initially, there was relief — confirmation that I wasn’t “going crazy,” that something was genuinely wrong with my brain. Then reality hit. I was told I could no longer work or drive. I was devastated to learn that the sport I loved, and had devoted my life to, had caused irreversible damage.

I don’t want to see rugby — or  any contact sport — banned. Athletes like me simply want the game to be safer. We want future generations to be properly informed about the risks, taken seriously when they report symptoms, and given appropriate medical care and long-term support.

My life is now dedicated to raising awareness of CTE and other neurodegenerative diseases caused by brain injury. Change in sport is essential to prevent more families experiencing what mine — and so many others across the world — are living through. Public perception also needs to shift. Too often, people dismiss the risks or say, “It’s a contact sport — you knew what you signed up for.” We understood the risk of broken bones. What we were never told was that playing rugby could damage our brains and lead to dementia and other neurodegenerative diseases.

Despite growing scientific evidence, sporting governing bodies continue to deny this reality — and through that denial, countless men and women are left to suffer without recognition, treatment, or support. Together, we will speak up for those who no longer have a voice, and for the families who have already lost far too much. 

TOGETHER WERE STRONGER

Podcast with Trunk2Tale