Blindsided Read online

  Dirty play could be painful. If I was tackled late, that would hurt. But it would also mean a penalty, and I’d say, ‘Thanks very much mate, that was good.’ And add three points to our score, or gain territory or some kind of an advantage. That just riled opponents even more. Sometimes, as I was lining up the kick from the penalty they’d just given away, someone might have a chirp at me during my run-up—‘I’ve seen you miss this one before, mate.’ That stuff you have to just block out. Backchat was all part of the game. There’s probably less of it nowadays because the players all know each other so well. The game was certainly a lot dirtier in my time. And even dirtier before my time. Today there are cameras everywhere and the referees and linesmen are trained professionals. Also, if you get caught nowadays, you’re out for a few games and games equal money in today’s world. It’s a different environment altogether.

  Now, of course, the Lions tour is a huge tradition in Australia. So much so that if it wasn’t for the 2013 Lions tour, the Australian Rugby Union would be pretty close to the financial wall now. They don’t have much money. The situation really isn’t good. Rugby union is still a minority sport in Australia. I’d love to find a way to change that but I can’t help thinking that it will be very difficult. Let’s just hope that the Lions’ tradition of touring Australia and everywhere else continues; it’s a great event to be involved with, as a player or a pundit.

  While I was out in Australia covering the Lions, I gave a number of speeches and sat on some Q and A panels. Dad and a few friends whom I hadn’t seen for a while came to a couple of them in Brisbane, and it was great to have them there. After one of them Dad said to me, ‘That was great. You really stood out up there.’ I liked getting that affirmation from him. At another one, where I knew I hadn’t done so well, he said, ‘The MC wasn’t great, was he?’

  To be fair, the format had been awkward. I’d wanted to speak on my own but the guy wouldn’t let me. Instead, he asked me odd questions and then wouldn’t really allow me to answer them without interrupting or changing the subject. I knew it wasn’t my best performance, but I also knew there were reasons for that. Dad didn’t criticise me. He knew, and I knew, what had happened. I like that we have that kind of relationship where I know exactly where I stand with him.

  TWENTY-TWO

  MUCH MORE TO DO

  IT’S 2015, THREE YEARS down the road from the stroke. Sometimes it feels as if it was years ago—another lifetime. Other times it seems like it happened last week. Sometimes I feel that I’d like to put the whole series of events behind me and forget it happened, but other times I want to hold on to what happened always. Like it or not, the stroke is part of me now—the person I now am has been significantly influenced by those events of April 2012. I’ve had the stroke experience, along with thousands of others in my life. They all make me the person I now am. I can only take the good with the bad and the former still vastly outweighs the latter.

  Stroke has taught me a lot about certain aspects of myself, and, as someone who has always been hungry for information, that’s no bad thing. I’m not somebody who can sit back and say, ‘Okay, this is where I am and it’s not going to get better.’ I always want to improve my situation and my stroke recovery has been a daily mission to achieve that. Even if I hadn’t had the stroke, I’d still be trying to improve my situation. That never stops for me.

  I still wake up in the morning sometimes and think, ‘You know what, my eyesight might be a bit better.’ Maybe it is; maybe I’m just imagining it is. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It’s the hope and the positivity that go into thinking it might improve that are important.

  Obviously, I still can’t drive and that’s an ongoing problem. I say ‘still’, because I genuinely believe that I will be able to one day. I have occasional eye examinations to check my peripheral vision. They put me in a chair looking at a board onto which they flash a series of dots and they ask me to pull a trigger when I see them. What you have to remember is that my eyes, in strict terms, are as good as they were before the stroke. It’s the message that’s sent to my brain that has been damaged by the stroke, not the eyes themselves. That’s what dictates what I actually see.

  There’s a test that you need to pass before you can resume driving, but if you fail it, you can’t sit it again unless you can prove beyond doubt that your vision has improved. I’m getting close to the point where I think I might be able to sit the test.

  The only other symptom I have remaining from the stroke is a strange sensation of heat on the lower part of my left leg. It can be quite painful and even wakes me up at night sometimes. In my occasional communications with Rob Henderson, and at the routine follow-up appointments I attend with the specialists in London who now have my file, I’ve asked what this could be. Nobody has a definitive answer. The brain is a complex organ, even in people who’ve never had a stroke. Sometimes the body will experience pain or a sensation and it’s hard to trace the cause.

  In my case, where I’ve had a major brain injury and will always, even in a small way, be recovering from it, the cause of the burning sensation is almost impossible to figure out. It might be some kind of cross-lateral manifestation from one of the areas of damage in the right side of my brain. It might just as easily be nothing to do with that. It’s irritating, but in the scheme of things it really isn’t important. I’m just the kind of guy who likes to know what’s going on in his body. My mind, as I’ve noted, is never very quiet.

  Mortality is something that I wrestled with for quite some time. I’m trying to remember if I ever did prior to the stroke and I don’t think I ever gave it more than a ‘Well, I’m getting a bit older’ type of thought. I’m not sure if anyone in their forties does unless they’re suddenly faced with it when they least expect it. I certainly don’t lie in bed at night thinking, ‘What if I have another stroke?’—let’s put it that way. I’m sure Isabella and the kids still worry about me, but there’s part of me that thinks, perhaps naively, ‘I survived this, I can do anything.’

  That doesn’t mean that I do reckless things, not at all. But it does mean that I can approach life with a degree of comfort, knowing that I can fight for my life, not just for a win on the rugby field. The mentality is the same, however: you pull yourself out of danger by setting small, achievable goals, and in the end you’ll get the outcome that you’ve set your mind to. You have to think like that, or else what’s the point in living.

  Thankfully, the specialists reckon that my chances of having another stroke are no higher than for any normal person of my age and fitness. I assumed I’d be more susceptible, simply because I’d had one already. That’s not the case. So I can live, work and enjoy life with very few limitations on what I can and can’t do. I’m so lucky in that respect. All those events that went through my head in hospital: my sons going to university, weddings, first cars—their whole lives. It was the thought of not being there that kept me going, and I’m elated to have all of that in front of me. I know how things could have turned out, because I’ve seen people who’ve been far less fortunate than me. And, of course, a significant number of stroke victims don’t survive at all.

  Most significantly, the stroke has put my rugby career in perspective. While there were several parallels in terms of how I approached each discipline, I don’t seriously compare recovering from stroke with playing rugby. Rugby is a game, a great game with fabulous traditions. I’m lucky enough to be held in pretty good regard by most people who know anything about the game. The level of support I received and still receive is tremendous. The stroke was about surviving and being around to continue the fifty-plus year journey I’ve been on. It’s that simple.

  I’ve been lucky enough to have enjoyed a good life so far, in every respect. Great marriage, fantastic kids, played sport for my country, won a World Cup, got to travel and meet wonderful people . . . and yes, I’ve survived a stroke too. All these things combine to make me what I am and make me content. But me having survived a stroke will not dicta
te or influence my life from now on. It was an obstacle—a big one, but it’s just part of the whole picture. I’m certainly not sitting back in my rocking chair with my slippers on saying, ‘Ah, life’s winding down now.’ There’s still a lot of life to live—watching my kids grow up—and thank goodness I can do that. Remember, there was that time where I was thinking that they’d be okay without me. Now though, I’ve got a lot of living still to do. I’ve got an eight-year-old son so I’ve got to be on my toes for the next few years!

  PHOTOS SECTION

  Playing cricket for a Queensland Juniors side on tour in New South Wales. I was twelve or thirteen and I think I made a few runs that day.

  Lining up another three points, I hope, during the 1984 Grand Slam Tour. Getty Images

  Celebrating in the dressing room at Eden Park, Auckland after we beat New Zealand 22–9 to win the 1986 Bledisloe Cup. No Australian team has done it in New Zealand since. (Left to right): Simon Poidevin, Tom Lawton, Enrique ‘Topo’ Rodriguez, Ross Reynolds, me, Steve Cutler, coach Alan Jones and our forwards coach Alec Evans. Ross Setford

  The single best moment of my playing career and the try that shattered the dreams of a nation! Going over in the corner with minutes remaining in the 1991 World Cup quarter-final against Ireland. Press Association

  When we were told there was to be a parade in Sydney to celebrate our winning the 1991 World Cup, I thought, ‘God, I hope a few people turn up.’ But when we got there, we were shocked by the scale of the crowd that came out to greet us with the trophy. Fairfax/Craig Golding

  My wife Isabella and me at the Benetton Treviso Christmas party in 1993.

  Trying to avoid a few South Africans on my way to scoring the first try of the 1995 World Cup at Newlands. Author’s collection

  Playing for Saracens against Sale at Heywood Road in the Allied Dunbar Premiership One match in 1997. We won 19–10. David Rogers/Allsport/Getty

  In the dressing room after my last competitive game in 1998. Francois Pienaar (right) and Philippe Sella (far right) are opening the Champagne. Author’s collection

  One of my great loves in life. Catching a wave in the Maldives in 2008.

  A brainscan shows a white area about the size of a fist on the bottom left. This is the area of stroke in the right, rear part of my brain. The small black line indicates where the swollen cerebellum is very close to coming into contact with my brain stem. The consequences would have been devastating. Right: My father Ian and me leaving the press conference at the Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital. In my right hand I have the notebook I used to write down my thoughts while I was in hospital. Glenn Barnes / Newspix

  The morning of my fiftieth birthday in Cape Town. Back (left to right): My mother Marie, Isabella, my eldest Louis and my father Ian. Front (left to right): My middle son Thomas, me, and my youngest son Nicolo.

  Watching the 2013 Currie Cup Final at Newlands between Western Province and Natal with my son Louis and friend and former Saracens teammate Francois Pienaar.

  Another great sporting love of mine. Teeing off at the eighteenth hole at St. Andrews in the Alfred Dunhill Links Championship in 2003. Author’s collection

  The Lynagh family on holiday in Bidart, France in 2013.

  WHAT IS A STROKE?

  •A stroke is a medical emergency.

  •A stroke is the way we describe the blood supply to the brain being suddenly cut off.

  •This can happen in two ways: Blood can stop moving through the artery when it gets blocked by a clot or when an artery bursts.

  •Brain cells can quickly die without the oxygen that the blood supplies.

  •This is why it is so important to get to hospital immediately if you think you are having a stroke because it is possible there may be some cells that can survive if you are treated quickly.

  RECOGNISING SIGNS OF STROKE

  The FAST test is an easy way to remember and recognise the signs of stroke.

  Stroke is always a medical emergency. Even if the symptoms don’t cause pain or go away quickly – call 000 immediately. The longer a stroke remains untreated, the greater the chance of stroke related brain damage. Emergency medical treatment soon after stroke symptoms begin improves the chances of survival and successful rehabilitation.

  Know your risk factors and lower your risk

  REDUCING YOUR RISK OF STROKE

  There are 6 steps people can take to reduce the risk and the danger of stroke. These are:

  1. Know your personal risk factors: high blood pressure, diabetes and high blood cholesterol – Know your numbers.

  2. Be physically active and exercise regularly.

  3. Avoid obesity by keeping to a healthy diet.

  4. Limit alcohol consumption.

  5. Avoid cigarette smoke. If you smoke, seek help to stop now.

  6. Learn to recognise the warning signs of a stroke and act FAST.

  Information courtesy of the National Stroke Foundation

  Level 7, 461 Bourke Street

  Melbourne VIC 3000

  Phone: 03 9670 1000

  Email: [email protected]

  We have offices in Brisbane, Canberra, Sydney, Hobart and Perth.

  StrokeLine 1800 787 653

  www.facebook.com/strokefoundation

  @strokefdn

  www.strokefoundation.com.au

  UK residents, please contact the UK Stroke Association

  240 City Road, London, EC1V 2PR

  Phone: 020 7566 0300

  Fax: 020 7490 2686

  Textphone: 18001 0303 3033 100

  www.stroke.org.uk

  Stroke Helpline: 0303 303 3100.

  The helpline is open Monday to Friday, 9am to 5pm.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  THERE ARE SO MANY people to thank regarding this project and in my life in general.

  To all the people in the rugby world I have played with and against, who have coached and cajoled me and in some way contributed to my wonderful rugby life. Thank you. It has been an extraordinary journey—one to which I owe everything. Thanks too to those of you who were called upon to contribute interviews and to Alan Jones for his wonderful foreword.

  To Dr. Robert Henderson, Dr. Craig Winter, their wonderful team and the incredible staff in the intensive care unit at the Royal Brisbane and Women’s hospital—you are amazing. You deal with adversity and extreme stress everyday with care, calmness and professionalism beyond what can be reasonably expected.

  To all the people at HarperCollins both in Australia and the UK —thank you for your belief in this project. My friends at Essentially who put together the deal for me—many thanks to you too.

  A huge debt of gratitude to Mark Eglinton who helped me put this story together. We had not previously met and we originally connected via social media, several months after my stroke, where we discussed the idea of doing a book. Although he was not from a rugby journalism background, what he brought from other areas of life, in combination with his understanding of the game, was very appealing. He convinced me—by writing a sample based on one of our first conversations—that people would actually be interested in my story. Quite simply, he was able to capture the story and my personality very well. Mark has helped every step of the way and has moulded our many conversations into what you now have in your hands. This book would not have happened without his enthusiasm, passion and interest in it. It has been a pleasure working with him and I feel we have become good friends. Thank you, Mark, you have been magnificent. Thanks also must go to Mark’s wife, Linda, for putting up with her husband speaking to me at all hours of the day.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MICHAEL LYNAGH won 72 Test caps and retired from international rugby in 1995 as the world record points scorer with 911, a total which remains an Australian record. An inspirational playmaker, Lynagh, who also won 100 caps for Queensland, made his Test debut in 1984 and was part of Australia’s Grand Slam-winning team later that year. He was vice-captain of Australia’s World Cup-winning side i
n 1991 and, after captaining Australia to the quarter-finals of the 1995 World Cup, he retired from international rugby and joined Saracens in the UK at the start of the professional era.

  COPYRIGHT

  HarperCollinsPublishers

  First published in Australia in 2015

  by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited

  ABN 36 009 913 517

  harpercollins.com.au

  Copyright © Michael Lynagh 2015

  The right of Michael Lynagh to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  HarperCollinsPublishers

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  ISBN 978 0 7322 9924 8 (paperback)

  ISBN 978 1 4607 0302 1 (ebook)

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

  Lynagh, Michael, author.

  Blindsided / Michael Lynagh with Mark Eglinton.

  Lynagh, Michael.