Alix Popham was up at 5am the other day, but it was nothing unusual for him. He’s up before dawn most mornings and that’s a knife he brings to the gunfight – you can’t cure dementia, but you can slow its advances.
And so he has his routines, which on Friday meant hauling his 45-year-old frame into the hyperbaric chamber at his home in Newport, 20 miles from the Principality Stadium, where he earned 14 of his 33 Welsh rugby caps.
He stayed in that tube for around an hour and a quarter and when he was done, there were a further 20 minutes spent in a sauna. His intention was to find somewhere for a spot of cold-water swimming in the afternoon.
There is no way of knowing precisely how much benefit those daily processes bring to his circumstances, which he believes are the consequence of his 13-year career. But to Popham’s mind, the ‘one-percenters’ add up and limit the deductions.
Of course, some memories are gone, like meeting Nelson Mandela in 2003 and all manner of details from games, but as a husband and father of three daughters, one of whom is only six, he is gripping hard to what he has.
‘I’m doing okay,’ he told me, not long after the sauna portion of his day. ‘My diagnosis came when I was 40 and there have been tough times, still are. Mood swings, all of that. But I can do a couple of days of work a week, spread out across five days, before it gets overwhelming. I tried for three, but I get very tired. Others have it worse than me.’
Former Wales star Alix Popham, 45, was diagnosed with early onset dementia when he was 40
Popham is one of several ex-stars campaigning for better awareness of brain injuries in rugby
He is among 500 former players that includes England World Cup winners Phil Vickery (left) and Steve Thompson (centre) who have signed up to class action against rugby authorities
Much of Popham’s work nowadays is in campaigning for better awareness of brain injuries in rugby. If you’ve followed that powder-keg of a scenario, you’ll know this. And you’ll know Popham wants change, is driving for it, and that he is part of the massive class-action pursuing legal avenues against World Rugby, the Rugby Football Union and the Welsh Rugby Union. Similar is happening in Rugby League.
If you’re sensible, you’ll appreciate that keeping the conversation alive is essential, as is the need to hold rugby’s authorities to account. But none of it is easy, especially for those like Popham who are both case-study and messenger.
Hence our phone call, because this has been an interesting fortnight in the messenger business and it traces to an unexpected source.
That being Sam Warburton, formerly the captain of Wales and the Lions, and an intelligent, conscientious analyst of the game in retirement. He is an authority you can trust. And one who also used the pages of his autobiography in 2019 to document his own journey from old-school ignorance on concussions to a ‘frightening’ realisation of how little players knew. No one disputes he’s a good egg.
But even Warburton isn’t immune to saying a few peculiar things. That started after the Wales-Ireland match on February 22 and he doubled-down this week in a separate broadcast.
He used words like ‘scaremongering’, and ‘clickbait’, both in the context of how brain injuries have been covered, and claimed the media needed to take responsibility for parents no longer wanting their kids to get involved in the game – not enough was being said about how safe the grassroots game is. From there, he implied boxing was being allowed to exist under less scrutiny and that elite rugby is policed far better now than it was 10 years ago.
Maybe he will see this column as a contribution to that ‘click-bait’ genre; in return we might choose to view his remarks as the clumsiest fumble from anyone at this year’s Six Nations.
‘I loved him as a player and love him as a pundit, but this really disappoints me,’ Popham said in our chat. ‘He is trusting the bubble around him – World Rugby and the medical smoke and mirrors they’re chucking out.’
Former Wales captain Sam Warburton seemed to recently play down the issue of head injuries
Warburton was a great player and a good egg, but his comments about ‘clickbait’ were peculiar
He then asked: ‘Did you see Dr Willie Stewart’s tweet?’ And I had.
Dr Stewart, one of the UK’s foremost experts in brain injury research, whose work has been prominent in football and rugby, invited Warburton to have a discussion.
As he posted under one of the recent videos of Warburton: ‘There’s opportunity here for education and balanced communication.’
Needless to say, Popham wants Warburton to take up the offer: ‘Willie has advised World Rugby. He speaks the truth – he will tell Sam exactly what is happening.’
Much of it lives not far from Warburton’s door. To date, more than 500 rugby players have signed up to the class action, which was launched in 2020, and they include at least three England World Cup-winners in Steve Thompson, Phil Vickery and Mark Regan. But there are men Warburton will know better.
Popham and Colin Charvis never played in the same sides as him, but Gavin Henson, Lee Byrne and Ryan Jones are among those who did. Jones was Warburton’s captain when he made his Wales debut in 2009; Warburton was captain when Henson and Byrne won their last caps in 2011. Meaning he has looked in the eyes of those now tied to the crisis that he appears to have minimised with a bit of whataboutery.
So what about boxing? Can it be right that we have a sport in 2025 where a key objective is to inflict concussion?
I wrestle with that one, and about the relative notions of informed consent, but a better question might be: should rugby not aim a little higher?
Is boxing, a sport whose attitude to its fallen is woeful, really the yardstick if you’re measuring yourself for moral comfort?
Dr Willie Stewart, an expert in brain injury research, hit back at Warburton on social media
Another: why should shortcomings elsewhere be relevant to what rugby must still do in its own backyard?
We know rugby has made progress. Just as we are aware progress only came after the game was shoved into taking its responsibilities far more seriously. That was no quick thing. It happened because of the devastating testimonies of players like Popham and Thompson, and because of journalists who wouldn’t let it lie, despite opposition across decades.
Sam Peters, once of this publication, wrote a book in forensic, laudable detail on the subject last year, titled Concussed: Sport’s Uncomfortable Truth. Warburton should read it, if he hasn’t already. It isn’t comfortable for anyone involved and it weighs a tonne more than clickbait.
As do the clips of Tom Curry, laying prone after was knocked unconscious in front of the referee against Australia last November. The game carried on around him.
That was the second time he was out cold in the space of two months and 15 days later he was cleared by the protocols to start against Japan. The minimum lay-off following a stoppage in British boxing would be 28 days, if you’re still interested in inexact comparisons.
There are other recent examples we could list, because there is still a long way to go. Progress is a process, after all.
For men like Popham, progress and process are words that have deeper meanings and different contexts. Thompson once told me a good day was not forgetting his kids’ names.
So, sure it would be nice if rugby didn’t have a participation problem. But it would be nicer if that was achieved by not imposing silence on the most important conversation the sport has ever known.
Popham played 33 times for Wales during an impressive career but many memories are gone
Doctors estimated Popham (red shirt) suffered up to 100,000 hits to his brain in his career
FIFA’s farcical half-time concert
After FIFA unfurled their grand plan for a half-time concert at next year’s World Cup final, I set a timer during Manchester United and Real Sociedad Europa League tie on Thursday.
It took around 40 seconds to clear the pitch at the break and they were back approximately 90 seconds before the restart. Let’s round that to two minutes.
Next, consider that the Super Bowl stage, which inspired this vision, conservatively takes five minutes to erect and a touch less to move off again.
I’m not sure what gig Gianni Infantino has imagined for those three remaining minutes, but we might spend it wondering why he can’t just enjoy the game like the rest of us.
