Wednesday 3 May 2017 11:32, UK
Barrie McDermott recalls a moment that defined the way he played the game, and looks at how the sport has changed since then...
Rugby League has been my passion for over 30 years and, in 1991, I was fortunate enough to go on a BARLA Young Lions tour of New Zealand along with the likes of Terry O'Connor, Paul Anderson, and Darren Fleary to name a few. We played six games across both islands, including two Tests against the Junior Kiwis who had Willie Poching, Stephen Kearney, Ruben Wiki, and Tana Umaga in their side.
As a youngster who had been playing North West Counties division, playing at places like Carlaw Park in Auckland felt like a huge jump, but it was a jump I felt I was ready for.
I look back at it now as a tour that forged my mentality towards Rugby League. Of the 25 players who toured that year all but a few went into the professional ranks, and at least a quarter went on to play full internationals.
It was also a tour that helped define the way I played the game.
At the same time that we were in New Zealand, their national team was in Melbourne playing a Test match against the Kangaroos, and my team-mates and I were watching the game in a bar while having some down time. Representing New Zealand was Dean Lonergan, who I had previously seen playing for Rochdale against the team I supported as a kid, Oldham RLFC.
In the first exchanges of the match Lonergan went in for a tackle and took a bad knock to the head, leaving him convulsing on the floor while the medics attended to him.
He was taken from the field but demanded he be allowed to continue playing, and eventually returned to the fray to help New Zealand to a rare victory over the Kangaroos on Australian soil.
I remember watching that game and thinking what a warrior he was. That was the way my generation and the ones before me played the game - with no thoughts of self-preservation. These days if a player convulsed on the floor he'd be taken straight to hospital, but at the time it inspired my generation to seek out our own 'Dean Lonergan moment'.
I always played Rugby League with passion, and for the rest of my playing days I went as hard as I could into every challenge, never hoping I'd get hurt but that if, or more accurately when, it came I could show my team, the opposition and anybody that noticed that there wasn't a hit out there big enough to keep me down.
"There is still a big difference between being hurt and being injured. If you're hurt, the old rules are set in stone: get up because you've got a job to do. If you're injured then the medics will do their job."
I was relatively lucky. Whether by design or good fortune, I wasn't a player who got knocked out very often - there were only three occasions when I ended up semi-conscious on the field.
Towards the back end of my playing days if you received a head injury you'd have a cognitive test; we sat at a computer and it tested our reaction to some playing card conundrums. But before that system was in place they'd simply ask you if you wanted to play.
"Are you alright to play this weekend, Barrie?"
"Yes, I'm alright to play," was always my response.
I loved playing, and in my early days the norm was you were paid for an appearance, and then extra for a win, so if you didn't play you ran the risk of missing out on wages. Even when I was at the top of my game at domestic and international level I never wanted to miss a fixture, mainly because I enjoyed it but partly because my attitude was that it was my job to play hurt, that's why I got paid - it wasn't negotiable.
I am not trying to blame others for my decision to play in any game. I was asked a reasonable question and I gave an answer without any pressure or influence from anyone else: "What would Dean Lonergan do?"
What I will always stay away from is 'the game was tougher in my day'. Today's Super League is one of the toughest, if not the toughest, collision sport in the world, but there are a few uneducated people who will watch the game today and think that the players go down too often or too easily.
As someone who got up whenever humanly possible, I'm sure I'm not the only one still amending my expectations of our players, but I'm happy to see the game taking more care of their assets.
Many of the players could play on after innocuous head-knocks, but are advised not to because they could cause further injury to themselves. The decision is down to medical staff having more information at their disposal, which means no more 'ignorance is bliss' like it was in years gone by.
There is still a big difference between being hurt and being injured. If you're hurt, the old rules are set in stone: get up because you've got a job to do. If you're injured then the medics will do their job.
I'm in no position to advise anyone on whether or not they should play on when they're hurt; it's up to every player to define their career and the way they want to play the game. If players are honest about when they're not fit to carry on then they must take time to recover properly. That way you have more chance of prolonging your career, which is ultimately the goal for any player, and it will mean less impact on your quality of life when you finish.
In the old days when we were injured we would get strapped up, patched up, helped up - anything to ensure we could play that week, but it often meant we'd be in much worse shape a week later.
I don't regret playing any of the games I took part in, it was always my decision to play on when I was injured, but there is a price at the end of that journey.
At 44 I've had 23 procedures, and my next operation is a shoulder arthroplasty - a shoulder replacement to me and you - which is normally required for people in their 70s, and even with my 'ignorance is bliss' mentality I know it's not the last joint replacement I will need.
We want and demand bravery, courage and fortitude from our Super League heroes. We want them to have a higher pain threshold and mental toughness than the man in the street. It's in the job description. As observers we love mental and physical courage on screen and on the terraces - when they pick up a bang or a bump, we applaud their grit.
Keep those old values in the game, but we must let the medics do their job if a player can't go back on after the doctor decides he has failed the concussion protocol, or his limp means he's more than just a step behind, or he can't use his left shoulder to tackle.
It's not worth his long term health to expect him to do "what Dean Lonergan would do".
