Why has nothing been done to help MR BLACKBURN?
CHRIS SUTTON TALKS TO THE DAUGHTER OF TONY PARKES ABOUT HIS FORMER COACH’S BATTLE WITH DEMENTIA
He WAS football’s greatest caretaker. If only football would take care of him now. Tony Parkes is Mr Blackburn Rovers, someone who played, captained, scouted and coached for the Lancashire club. Six times he kept the hot-seat warm between 1986 and 2004 — never letting them down — and in 1995 he helped Sir Kenny Dalglish win the Premier League with Chris Sutton in attack.
Sutton caught up with Tony’s daughter Natalie who explains that ewood Park was Tony’s happy place. Now in his £850-aweek care home, not far from ewood, the tears are flowing. Tony is confused.
He does not understand why his family are on the other side of a window. He does not know why he cannot be given a hug, or come home. Where once this 71-year-old was known for his quick wit, words now escape him, and so the emotions come out.
As his daughter Natalie explains, the only time she sees the ‘real’ Tony is when n the topic is football. Specifically, the good old days of Blackburn.
That is why hy Sportsmail is calling on the PFA to set up regular social events whe where former footballers tnd and their families can come e together to o reminisce. They need it more than n you think.
NATALIE:
Dad lights up when he goes to ewood or when he’s with other footballers. That’s when you see my dad.
Speaking to Dany Robson — daughter of Burnley legend Jimmy, who also has dementia — they went to Turf Moor and her dad lit up when he was in his stomping ground. Football is a trigger.
When we show him old pictures, Dad knows who Sir Kenny is, he knows who Ray Harford is, he knows you, Chris. Alan Shearer FaceTimed him on his birthday. Dad didn’t know it was his birthday and he was very confused. But the moment he saw Alan, his face lit up.
Alan started talking about training and said something about a certain drill my dad used to run. Then Dad started talking… and it was my dad. It wasn’t this new dad. It was my old dad. Just for those few minutes, he was back at the training ground. Then Alan went, and it was all forgotten.
I had been listening in but I asked: ‘What did you and Alan talk about?’ He couldn’t remember. But to see his eyes light up and some of that frustration drain away, even if only for a few minutes, was priceless.
CHRIS: I can tell you I didn’t always like my coaches at certain clubs, but that was never the case with your dad. He was a vital ingredient in us winning the title in 1995. I remember him as a sharp man and a very calm character. Not once did he shout at us.
NATALIE: He wasn’t a shouter. Mum used to threaten: ‘Wait until your dad gets home!’ I don’t know why that always worked, because he never shouted. That’s what’s sad about dementia. It changes the person. That down-to-earth, funny, sharp man I grew up with has gone. It takes that essence of them away, and it takes it quickly.
CHRIS: When did you first start to notice the symptoms? With my dad, it was silly little things like getting names wrong or forgetting his car keys, but then it gradually got worse and worse.
NATALIE: Three years ago. I was on maternity leave with my eldest daughter, so I was around more. I started noticing little things, like he’d call a banana an orange. He knew it was a banana, but he couldn’t get the word.
The biggest symptom was he started withdrawing from everyone. He used to go to the football — every home game — and it was good for him. When we lost Mum to cancer around 10 years ago, he was on his own, so to go to ewood did him a world of good. Then he just didn’t want to go.
He started using ‘my little girl’ as an excuse. ‘Natalie needs me at home.’ I didn’t. But looking back, he was finding it difficult to follow conversations and he knew there was starting to be a problem.
CHRIS: How hard was that for you?
NATALIE: Trying to get Dad to a GP was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. The last time we went, we got a terminal cancer diagnosis for Mum. In the end, I sent Dad to the GP to pick up a prescription for me.
The receptionist, who had known Dad for a long time, saw he was confused. He didn’t know why he was there, and was struggling to get my name. So she intervened and got the GP to call and sort a home visit.
I thought that would get us on a road to support. I was wrong. When we got the diagnosis, it was: ‘See ya.’ It was a challenge. I had no clue about this disease. I gave up two jobs to care for Dad, and carer’s allowance is £67.25 a week.
I’ve got two children under three. To have him home is like having another child, but with the potential to leave the hob on, or leave the door open for my toddler to run out, or try to get at his
medication and lea leave e that in the wrong place.
Even leaving chocolate out for the dog. Dad is at child level. One occasion during lockdown, he got out of the house through a window and convinced our neighbours something had happened to me. So they bashed the door in.
Dad stood there and watched, and we were just asleep. Because we were trying to get some sleep, we weren’t giving him attention, so this is what he did.
Now i’m fighting the guilt of putting him in a home.
CHRIS: i went through that, too. it’s an incredibly difficult decision to make. have you spoken to the players’ union to assess your options?
NATALIE: They’re happy to help when asked on a personal level with odd little things. But it’s about the long term. i have no idea what work they are doing behind the scenes to provide long-term support. Families need support.
We’re expected to care for our loved ones when we know little about this disease. Dad’s in a home now that’s £850 a week. Fortunately he worked his entire life and was in a position where he put some money to one side, so we’re going through that now. But so many are not in that position, they are suffering with their families, and that’s heartbreaking.
There’s got to be some support for all these families, in general and in the footballing world. it’s not all about money. People think we’re just after compensation. i’m not. it’s more than that.
NATALiE announced Tony’s dementia diagnosis in February. Fans would approach her father in Blackburn, wanting to shake hands with a hero, and she would not know how Tony would react. At least if supporters knew, they could understand. Sadly, lockdown saw his deterioration speed up. Prior to March, the Rovers legend would attend weekly group sessions with Sporting Memories — an organisation which aims to tackle dementia, depression and loneliness through the power of sports reminiscence. it triggered memories. Then the pandemic put the country on pause. Tony could no longer attend those sessions in person and, coupled with the lack of live football on television, we are sorry to report he faded further.
NATALIE: We had a full-on meltdown before we dragged him to that first meeting. But once we got him there, he started making real strides. Then lockdown happened and it’s like he’s a different person again. Dad’s not just suffering a little. he’s in tears every day because he knows there is a problem.
he’s frustrated. he’s anxious. he never used to worry about a thing. But this just changes them. it’s cruel. i wish people who haven’t had to deal with dementia could understand. Just because they can hide behind a desk doesn’t mean this is not happening.
CHRIS: Does football recognise there’s a problem with dementia? Do the PFA? The FA?
NATALIE: No. Not publicly. They may think they will have a series of lawsuits on their hands if they do, and i don’t think that’s the case.
Nothing will change for my dad. it is only going to get worse. No amount of money can take it away. i’d like compensation if i could take him to America for an operation but it doesn’t work like that with dementia.
What worries me is what will happen to the future generations. They need to do something so we’re not having these same conversations in five years, in 10 years, with a whole new generation.
i’m willing to do anything. if we can get some kind of change in place, now is the time to do it. i don’t know how they can go to bed at night. The list of names of footballers who have been diagnosed with dementia — that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
There are so many more who we don’t know about, who perhaps don’t know themselves yet. They cannot have all of those names and say it’s simply hereditary or down to age. They’ve all got one thing in common.
Somebody from the powers-thatbe has to admit there is a link. Even just saying that opens the door to research. Are we going to go on like this for ever? Chris, as a former professional footballer, are you worried?
CHRIS: in all honesty, Natalie, i try my best not to think about that. if that happens, i cannot do anything to prevent it now. But this campaign is so important. it won’t save your dad, it couldn’t save my dad, but it can help future generations.
There are simple things that can be put in place that could make the world of difference. The 20 headers a session and 48 hours between sessions, for example. The 10-minute concussion substitutes.
When i played, if you got hit on the head, the physio would ask: ‘Are you OK to carry on?’
Nobody would ever say no.
NATALIE: They had that pressure to get back up. in my dad’s day, they had the bucket and magic sponge. They had to get up and get on with it.
None of them felt they could take their time. But to be allowed to say: ‘Look, i’ve just hit my head and i feel a bit all over the place. Can i sit out and have a medical check-up?’
There are so many changes they could make without spoiling the game. it just passed 18 years since Jeff Astle’s death was ruled as a result of an industrial disease.
how is it that we are still having the same conversations now? Why has something not been done?