Concussion talk hits home for ex-Rider
Former receiver Jeff Fairholm concerned but knows there’s nothing he can do
Would-be tacklers could never catch up with Jeff Fairholm. He hopes the same applies to concussions.
“I can count the concussions that I remember, quote unquote,” says Fairholm, who was a game-breaking receiver with the Saskatchewan Roughriders from 1988 to 1993 before spending his final three CFL seasons with the Toronto Argonauts.
“Knowing what I know now, I figure I probably had 12. To be safe, cut it in half and call it six. Even that’s a big number.”
Nick Buoniconti had “at least 10” concussions and, in a recent interview, the former NFL linebacker also told Sports Illustrated: “I feel lost. I feel like a child.”
Buoniconti, 76, has neurodegenerative dementia and doctors suspect that he could be afflicted with chronic traumatic encephalopathy. CTE can be caused by repeated and/or traumatic hits to the head.
Earlier this week, the widow of former CFL defensive back Rod Woodward told Postmedia that a pathological examination at Boston University’s CTE Centre revealed that her husband had CTE. Woodward was 72 when he died in September after complications from a fall.
Stories such as those of Buoniconti, Woodward and countless others hit home.
“I think I’ve had those concerns since the news has come out with the devastating effects of concussions,” says Fairholm, 51. “How concerned am I? Not very, because there’s nothing I can do. Why let it rent space in my head when there’s nothing I can do about it?”
Fairholm is one of the most intelligent, articulate people you will ever meet. But some episodes have caused him to wonder whether the game he loves has affected his brain.
“There was one time when we were living in Montreal and I was driving with my wife,” he says. “I said, ‘I’m really starting to feel dizzy here, and weird.’ Is it a result of the concussions? Who knows? I actually pulled over and asked her to drive. It was pretty bad.
“My short-term memory is OK. My long-term memory is horrible. With my childhood and high school and a lot of things like that, there’s a lot that I don’t remember. That just might be because I’m stupid. I don’t know if it has anything to do with the concussions.
“I’m definitely concerned, put it that way, but there’s nothing I can do. I just have to keep doing my thing. I’ve got a good job (as the regional sales manager, Canada, for Evans Consoles Corporation) and I’m making some dough and I’m providing for my family, so I just keep going, until and if something happens.
“That’s the thing. I don’t think you actually know until you’re dead and they can do an autopsy on your brain. You can’t do anything about it now, so what are you going to do?”
Enjoy life to the fullest ... and cross your fingers.
“It’s hard to tell with the concussion part because it’s not staring you in the face,” continues Fairholm, who does not find any fault with team doctors or training staff. “You don’t deal with it every single day, or you learn to deal with it.
“The things that you notice more are your knees and your hips and your shoulders and your toes, in my case, from jamming them in your shoes all the time. Your fingers are all messed up and now you’re starting to get a little arthritis here and there.
“Those are the things you feel every day, whereas the concussions and what might happen in the future, you learn to deal with that stuff. It’s not like I’m walking around dizzy every day. You don’t have that thing constantly staring you in the face — as opposed to when I get up, it’s, ‘Oh, my back’s stiff today.’ I had back surgery, so you start to feel those pains where it’s staring you in the face a little bit more.”
Such is life for many retired players. Buoniconti, for one, says he would not have played football if his younger self had been aware of the risks. Given a chance for a do-over, what decision would Fairholm make?
“I’d have no hesitation there at all,” he states. “I’d do it again in a second.”