Harm In No Trying

I posted an article on my Facebook wall this morning but decided this topic warrants a blog post. I've written before about the inherit risks and subsequent effects that athletes go through, ultimately for our entertainment. Sadly not all of the stories end happily as this one hopefully will.

On Saturday, we were in Madrid for my favourite Mexican's birthday. He's cracking on in years sadly, so its imperative we enjoy them with him. As my boys were playing against Sunderland in the FA Cup, I broke away from the group and found a good old fashioned Irish pub to watch the game. I couldn't persuade anybody else to come for some reason.

We drew after a fairly uninspiring game and I rejoined the group. As usual, I'll check my iphone and the scores, but it was a text message from my mum that drew my attention to the fact that Fabrice Muamba had collapsed. I followed it intently on my iphone....i would not like to guess what those updates cost in data roaming charges. For whatever reason, I could not shake it from my mind all weekend - Muamba rather than the roaming charges. Memories flooded back to me from when Marc Vivien Foe passed away and I heard about it at a Bon Jovi concert. When Antonio Puerta passed away in 2007 and Dani Jarque in 2009. For some reason, these deaths and the Muamba incident just leave me with this numb feeling that I cannot quite describe.

People die all the time, every minute. I am not a fan of death and I think it is overrated. I remember crying one day when I was about 10 years old begging my mum not to die. I had just worked out what it was all about. Mum classically reassured me she had plenty of years left in the tank, but everybody dies one day. It was some reassurance, but not the eternal one I was hoping for. I have come to terms with it as I have gotten older.

Naturally the passing of family, friends, and old acquaintances is sad. But something just seems to tie me to these athletes when something tragic happens like Fabrice Muamba collapsing last Saturday. All I could think about was this superbly strong and energetic midfielder that I saw at Goodison Park in March 2010 who I was seriously impressed with and can recall thinking as clear as day that I sat there thinking of how well Muamba would slot into our midfield.

Jarque and Puerta were two young Spanish footballers who I had watched, studied and analysed since they broke into the first teams at Espanyol and Sevilla respectively. I rated Jarque as a *** key defender, while Puerta was behind a talented Adriano at Sevilla, but his potential was there to see. Perhaps it was the fact I had followed them both, as part of my job, and seen their development, that attached me to them in some form.

I'll share a small quote from the doctor in the BBC article published this morning:

"Two hours after [regaining consciousness] I whispered in his ear, 'What's your name?' and he said, 'Fabrice Muamba'. I said, 'I hear you're a really good footballer' and he said, 'I try'.

And that is good enough for me. People trying. It's half the battle and sums up why this guy is miraculously hanging in there. It is a stark reminder of the risks that professional athletes go through, ultimately for our entertainment. I suspect all of those people in the stadium on Saturday afternoon shared a similar feeling to the one I experienced. Seeing tributes and well-wishing from all over the world for Muamba was heartening and after so often sitting in some pretty horrendous abuse at times, it was a timely reminder that maybe football fans are not so bad after all. Aside from the one chap who was arrested for racially abusing Muamba on Twitter on the Saturday evening. Maybe he needs to make more of an effort himself and try harder to be a better person.