Back when he was captaining England at the 2011 Rugby World Cup, Lewis Moody went canyon swinging near Queenstown in New Zealand. Despite being utterly fearless on the pitch he was not brilliant with heights. That day, he wrote in his autobiography, was “the most terrifying experience of my life”. Or at least it was. A fortnight ago, he and his family were plunged into something infinitely scarier.
Moody’s diagnosis with the incurable disease MND at the age of 47 is, first and foremost, desperate news for all those who know and love him. There are good guys and then there is “Moodos”, about whom nobody in rugby has a bad word. Cruel doesn’t come close to describing it.
Because, aside from being an unfailingly nice bloke, Moody’s almost childlike relish for the game was just as infectious. He threw himself into places from which most normal people would flee in the opposite direction. Whether he was out there representing England’s 2003 World Cup winners, the British & Irish Lions, Leicester, Bath or Bracknell minis, he was the personification of an English lionheart who unfailingly put his body on the line for the cause.
It made him the most popular of teammates and earned him the affectionate nickname “Mad Dog”. His former captain for club and country, Martin Johnson, summed it up nicely when Moody retired in 2012 having won 71 caps for England. “When I look back at playing with Lewis it always brings a smile to my face – it was never dull. He was one of the most committed guys I ever played with and had a complete disregard for his own physical wellbeing.”
But even those of us who followed his entire playing career and, at one stage, collaborated with him on a fly-in-the-ruck column for the Guardian barely knew the half of it. Among other things he was diagnosed with the inflammatory bowel disease ulcerative colitis in 2005, preferring to keep his condition secret while continuing to play top-level rugby.
His steadily growing list of other rugby-related injuries would also have tested anyone’s resolve. Even as a baby there were hairy moments, not least when a motorcyclist with a concrete slab in a sidecar smashed into his mum’s Beetle with him in the back in a baby seat. The vehicle was a write off and his mother suffered whiplash but Lewis was fine.
Lewis Moody breaks away from Stephen Moore’s attempted tackle at the 2007 World Cup. England beat Australia 12-10 in the quarter-final. Photograph: Andrew Fosker/Shutterstock
Perhaps most wince-inducing of all was the 2007 World Cup game against Tonga, during which he was knocked out twice but staggered back up to complete all 80 minutes and then featured in a winning quarter-final the following week. Knowing what we all know now about the risks of second impact syndrome and the need to protect players from themselves, it is a case study which has not aged well.
Talking of which there will inevitably now be those sucking their teeth and instantly pronouncing that all that physical punishment must have contributed to his MND diagnosis. They would be wiser to leave that to the experts. Lewis’s father passed away with Alzheimer’s in January last year and his father’s brother has been diagnosed with the same condition. Moody has previously said there was “an added weight” to knowing what being potentially genetically pre-disposed to dementia might mean alongside the cumulative effects of his rugby career.
For the past 12 years the Lewis Moody Foundation has sought to raise funds to support those affected by brain tumours. And, as it happens, Moody has also been campaigning for mandatory time limits on contact in training and for more money to be made available for the care of players once their careers have concluded. He has been saying for a while that, even for gung-ho back-row forwards of his ilk, times need to change. “People may go: ‘That’s really hypocritical of you, Lewis “Mad Dog” Moody, because you used to play like an idiot, you were insane.’
skip past newsletter promotion
The latest rugby union news and analysis, plus all the week’s action reviewed
Privacy Notice: Newsletters may contain information about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. If you do not have an account, we will create a guest account for you on theguardian.com to send you this newsletter. You can complete full registration at any time. For more information about how we use your data see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.
after newsletter promotion
“Well, I wasn’t insane. I loved playing the way I did, I loved the contact element of the game, I loved the hours we spent battering each other on the training field. I played the game within the parameters – and in the way that I could – at a time that I could. And I would do it differently now.”
Either way it is beyond painful that England’s blond-haired buccaneer – as recognisable on a rugby field as France’s talismanic captain Jean-Pierre Rives once was – now faces a similar challenge to those faced by other inspiring oval-ball legends such as Doddie Weir, Rob Burrow, Ed Slater and Joost van der Westhuizen.
Moody will tackle the daunting situation head-on because that’s how he has always approached life. Furthermore, he has long had a passion for military history and, in dressing-rooms before big matches, used to clasp his great grandfather’s First World War medal for motivation. “I have always been interested in how people deal with adversity,” he explained. “Sometimes the only answer is to just put one foot in front of the other and keep going.”
Which is precisely how he, his wife Annie and their family will now seek to respond. There will be a tsunami of support from across the world of professional sport – one of his boys, 17-year-old Dylan, is a promising goalkeeper for Southampton and has represented England at youth level – not to mention from millions of others who admire Moody from afar. Nobody deserves a truly horrible disease like MND but this time it has singled out the bravest and most admirable of men. Best wishes, Lewis. We’re all with you.
