Rowan Stringer
Rowan was 17 years old and in Grade 12 (Senior) when she passed away following a concussion received during a rugby match for her high school team. A Coroners Inquest into her death held in May of 2013 concluded that she died from Second Impact Syndrome and had likely suffered two previous concussions in two games during the five days preceding the match where she suffered the fatal injury.
Rowan was captain of her high school team and also played for the Barrhaven Scottish RFC. She played ringette, soccer, flag football, lacrosse and was also a keen snowboarder. She had been accepted into Ottawa University to study to become a Registered Nurse.
Her death and the results of the Inquest spurred her family to campaign for “Rowan’s Law” in Ontario. The law, the first of it’s kind in Canada, came in to force on September 9, 2016.
Walt Strobach
Walter Strobach was born in Jamaica, N.Y. on March 8, 1939, the son of Walter and Catherine (Keenan) Strobach. He grew up in the St. Albans neighborhood of Queens, where he acquired the New York accent he kept his entire life, despite leaving his hometown at 18 to attend the United States Naval Academy.
Before leaving Queens for the Navy, Walt was a three-sport athlete at Brooklyn Technical High School. He excelled particularly in football as a running back known for his grit, determination, and refusal to back down on the field, traits which served him well his entire life. During his senior year, Walt led his team to an undefeated season, winning the Public School Athletic League City Championship in 1955. During this remarkable season, he was the league’s highest scorer, with 127 points from touchdowns and extra points.
Walt’s gridiron exploits earned him a coveted spot on a Navy football team that was a perennial top-10 squad. His senior year, they finished ranked No. 4 in the country, including an appearance in the Orange Bowl. During his college years, he was also a starter on the Navy baseball team. He maintained ties with both teams via alumni events throughout his life.
Walt’s time at the Naval Academy forever left a mark and made him who he was thereafter. He constantly reminisced about his days at the Academy; his love for his alma mater was undeniable. A big part of this love was the fact he had the most important introduction of his life there. It was at a Naval Academy mixer he met his wife of over 60 years, Cookie Shea, herself the daughter of a Naval Academy grad (John D. Shea ’32). She was 17 and he was 19 when they first met. Cookie was in very high demand as a dance partner that night, and as was the custom of the day, he politely cut in with her by offering a memorable line which she never forgot: “Would you like to step off the merry-go-round to dance with me instead?” Together, they had six children and a lifetime of memories.
Those shared memories began Sept. 1, 1962, when the young ensign, fresh from his successful interview with Adm. Hyman Rickover, took a break from his Navy nuclear-powered submarine training to marry Cookie. They settled in Groton, Conn., where they immediately started a family.
Walt’s love for his children was one of his best traits. His playfulness, patience, and genuine affection for his young children and later his grandchildren provided lasting fond memories. Whether it was playing in the waves at the beach, throwing a football in the yard, or wrestling in the family room, Walt clearly found much joy acting like a kid himself as he played with his children.
Walt’s Navy career took him, Cookie, and their brood to many places after Groton: Charleston, S.C., Honolulu, Hawaii, and Pascagoula, Miss. before settling into Virginia Beach, Va. Along the way, Walt served aboard various nuclear submarines, including the USS Aspro, USS Ethan Allen, USS Simon Bolivar, and USS Henry Stimson.
Walt retired from the military in 1981 but never quite walked away from it. Watching his son and three of his grandsons follow him into the Navy gave him much pride and satisfaction and provided endless subject matter as he peppered them with questions.
He worked in real estate and finance after his Navy years, as well as stints teaching business courses and instruction in the emerging computer technology sector. Eventually, Walt and Cookie departed Virginia Beach and made their way to Mechanicsville, Va. to be closer to family. Departing Virginia Beach was bittersweet for them, having lived there for over 30 years. They left behind a lifetime of friendships and ties to the area but did their very best to maintain them.
Walt spent his final days enjoying retirement at home with Cookie, characterized by frequent visits from their adult children and grandchildren, a daily cigar on the back porch, and an occasional hearty meal of nachos and light beer at the local sports bar.
Most importantly to Walt, he spent the majority of his last years focused on his deep Catholic faith. In addition to attending Mass daily, he was extensively involved with the Richmond Diocese Prison Ministry, served on the Parish Council as a Religious Education Instructor, and participated in the Knights of Columbus. He was blessed to receive final sacraments and apostolic pardon while at home in hospice. During this graceful transition, all 17 of his grandkids either called him on his final days or were present to tell him they loved him and were praying for him. He heard everything they said.
Walt passed away peacefully on June 7, 2023, at the age of 84. He was surrounded by his wife of over 60 years and his five adult children. After his passing, his brain was donated to the UNITE Brain Bank, where researchers later diagnosed him with stage 3 (of 4) CTE.
Walt is survived by his wife of over 60 years, Sharon “Cookie” Strobach; their children, Walter F. “Rick” Strobach, Jr., Sharon “Sweetie” Hoioos, Susan Fisher, Stasia Strobach, and Cmdr. Michael Strobach, USNR; as well as 17 grandchildren. He was predeceased by his son Michael “Michael the First” Strobach.
Justin Strzelczyk
Lineman, Dead at 36, Exposes Brain Injuries
WEST SENECA, N.Y., June 13 — Mary Strzelczyk spoke to the computer screen as clearly as it was speaking to her. “Oh, Justin,” she said through sobs, “I’m so sorry.”
The images on the screen were of magnified brain tissue from her son, the former Pittsburgh Steelers offensive lineman Justin Strzelczyk, who was killed in a fiery automobile crash three years ago at age 36. Four red splotches specked an otherwise tranquil sea — early signs of brain damage that experts said was most likely caused by the persistent head trauma of life in football’s trenches.
Strzelczyk (pronounced STRELL-zick) is the fourth former National Football League player to have been found post-mortem to have had a condition similar to that generally found only in boxers with dementia or people in their 80s. The diagnosis was made by Dr. Bennet Omalu, a neuropathologist at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine. In the past five years, he has found similar damage in the brains of the former N.F.L. players Mike Webster, Terry Long and Andre Waters. The finding will add to the growing evidence that longtime football players, particularly linemen, might endure hidden brain trauma that is only now becoming recognized.
“This is irreversible brain damage,” Omalu said. “It’s most likely caused by concussions sustained on the football field.”
Dr. Ronald Hamilton of the University of Pittsburgh and Dr. Kenneth Fallon of West Virginia University confirmed Omalu’s findings of chronic traumatic encephalopathy, a condition evidenced by neurofibrillary tangles in the brain’s cortex, which can cause memory loss, depression and eventually Alzheimer’s disease-like dementia. “This is extremely abnormal in a 36-year-old,” Hamilton said. “If I didn’t know anything about this case and I looked at the slides, I would have asked, ‘Was this patient a boxer?’ ”
The discovery of a fourth player with chronic traumatic encephalopathy will most likely be discussed when N.F.L. officials and medical personnel meet in Chicago on Tuesday for an unprecedented conference regarding concussion management. The league and its players association have consistently played down findings on individual players like Strzelczyk as anecdotal, and widespread survey research of retired players with depression and early Alzheimer’s disease as of insufficient scientific rigor.
The N.F.L. spokesman Greg Aiello said that the league had no comment on the Strzelczyk findings. Gene Upshaw, executive director of the N.F.L. Players Association, did not respond to telephone messages seeking comment.
Strzelczyk, 6 feet 6 inches and 300 pounds, was a monstrous presence on the Steelers’ offensive line from 1990-98. He was known for his friendly, banjo-playing spirit and gluttony for combat. He spiraled downward after retirement, however, enduring a divorce and dabbling with steroid-like substances, and soon before his death complained of depression and hearing voices from what he called “the evil ones.” He was experiencing an apparent breakdown the morning of Sept. 30, 2004, when, during a 40-mile high-speed police chase in central New York, his pickup truck collided with a tractor-trailer and exploded, killing him instantly.
Largely forgotten, Strzelczyk’s case was recalled earlier this year by Dr. Julian Bailes, the chairman of the department of neurosurgery at West Virginia University and the Steelers’ team neurosurgeon during Strzelczyk’s career. (Bailes is also the medical director of the University of North Carolina’s Center for the Study of Retired Athletes and has co-authored several prominent papers identifying links between concussions and later-life emotional and cognitive problems.) Bailes suggested to Omalu that Strzelczyk’s brain tissue might be preserved at the local coroner’s office, a hunch that proved correct.
Mary Strzelczyk granted permission to Omalu and his unlikely colleague, the former professional wrestler Christopher Nowinski, to examine her son’s brain for signs of chronic traumatic encephalopathy. Nowinski, a former Harvard football player who retired from wrestling because of repeated concussions in both sports, has become a prominent figure in the field after spearheading the discovery earlier this year of C.T.E. inside the brain of Andre Waters, the former Philadelphia Eagles defensive back who committed suicide last November at age 44.
Tests for C.T.E., which cannot be performed on a living person other than through an intrusive tissue biopsy, confirmed the condition in Strzelczyk two weeks ago. Omalu and Nowinski visited Mary Strzelczyk’s home near Buffalo on Wednesday to discuss the family’s psychological history as well as any experiences Justin might have had with head trauma in and out of sports. Mary Strzelczyk did not recall her son’s having any concussions in high school, college or the N.F.L., and published Steelers injury reports indicated none as well.
Omalu remained confident that the damage was caused by concussions Strzelczyk might not have reported because — like many players of that era — he did not know what a concussion was or did not want to appear weak. Omalu also said that it could have developed from what he called “subconcussive impacts,” more routine blows to the head that linemen repeatedly endure.
“Could there be another cause? Not to my knowledge,” said Bailes, adding that Strzelczyk’s car crash could not have caused the C.T.E. tangles. Bailes also said that bipolar disorder, signs of which Strzelczyk appeared to be increasingly exhibiting in the months before his death, would not be caused, but perhaps could be exacerbated, by the encephalopathy.
Omalu and Bailes said Strzelczyk’s diagnosis is particularly notable because the condition manifested itself when he was in his mid-30s. The other players were 44 to 50 — several decades younger than what would be considered normal for their conditions — when they died: Long and Waters by suicide and Webster of a heart attack amid significant psychological problems.
Two months ago, Omalu examined the brain tissue of one other deceased player, the former Denver Broncos running back Damien Nash, who died in February at 24 after collapsing following a charity basketball game. (A Broncos spokesman said that the cause of death has yet to be identified.) Omalu said he was not surprised that Nash showed no evidence of C.T.E. because the condition could almost certainly not develop in someone that young. “This is a progressive disease,” he said.
Omalu and Nowinski said they were investigating several other cases of N.F.L. players who have recently died. They said some requests to examine players’ brain tissue have been either denied by families or made impossible because samples were destroyed.
Bailes, Nowinski and Omalu said that they were forming an organization, the Sports Legacy Institute, to help formalize the process of approaching families and conducting research. Nowinski said the nonprofit program, which will be housed at a university to be determined and will examine the overall safety of sports, would have an immediate emphasis on exploring brain trauma through cases like Strzelczyk’s. Published research has suggested that genetics can play a role in the effects of concussion on different people.
“We want to get a idea of risks of concussions and how widespread chronic traumatic encephalopathy is in former football players,” Nowinski said. “We are confident there are more cases out there in more sports.”
Mary Strzelczyk said she agreed to Omalu’s and Nowinski’s requests because she wanted to better understand the conditions under which her son died. Looking at the C.T.E. tangles on a computer screen on Wednesday, she said they would be “a piece of the puzzle” she is eager to complete for herself and perhaps others.
“I’m interested for me and for other mothers,” she said. “If some good can come of this, that’s it. Maybe some young football player out there will see this and be saved the trouble.”
A correction was made on June 16, 2007
:
A sports article yesterday about Justin Strzelczyk, a former National Football League player who was found post-mortem to have had early signs of brain damage that experts said was most likely caused by football concussions, misidentified the medical institution where Bennet Omalu, the doctor who made the diagnosis, is a clinical instructor of neuropathology. It is the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine, not the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center.
When we learn of a mistake, we acknowledge it with a correction. If you spot an error, please let us know at [email protected] more
Pat Sullivan
Calvin Swangin
Thomas Sweeney
Brian Sykes
Rod Taylor
Rod Taylor was born on September 9, 1943, in the County of Dorset, England. From a young boy, he started his football journey as a goalkeeper, but quickly found he was better at kicking and heading than catching the ball.
Rod’s pro career began at Portsmouth FC as a ground staff boy in 1958. He signed his first professional contract in 1961 at age 18 and went on to play at Fratton Park for two seasons as a wing half and central defender.
Rod met his future wife Penny Browning at a dance hall just around the corner from Fratton Park. The couple would go on to marry in Portsmouth in 1964. Rod and Penny had two children, Spencer, who was born in 1965 and Rachel, who was born in 1968.
After his spell at Portsmouth, Rod joined Gillingham FC in July 1963 and spent three years at Priestfield. In 1966, he returned to Dorset playing under manager Freddie Cox, who had signed him at Gillingham. Rod made 40 appearances for AFC Bournemouth in the Fourth Division before joining Poole Town in August 1967. During his playing career Rod started a building and decorating company with fellow professional Tony Priscott. The two continued their partnership for 20 years.
Rod was known as a tough tackling player, who had a good footballing brain. Unbeknownst to Rod or his family, his exposure to repeated heading of the ball and multiple concussive and sub-concussive blows, would ultimately lead to his death in 2018.
After his professional playing career ended in 1967, Rod remained involved in football as a member of the Portsmouth Former Players Association. He continued to play amateur county league football well into his early 40’s alongside other ex-professionals.
A life-long vegetarian who never smoked and only occasional drank, he took diet and exercise seriously all his life. However, throughout his life, he was quick to fly off the handle and sometimes suffered with low moods.
He readily jumped out of the car to face-up to someone who had annoyed him on the roads. The men working for him knew him as fair but no-nonsense. To his family he was loving, kind, funny, and intelligent, but sometimes melancholy.
Rod and Penny raised Spencer to be a professional golfer and Rachel to join the Royal Navy. Late in his career, Rod settled into a quiet rural life living in Dorset. Penny worked for the National Trust as a conservator and Rod continued building right up to when Penny was diagnosed with cancer in 2010.
Penny was told she had stage 4 bladder cancer. Specialists told her the only hope of saving her would be for a radical cystectomy to be carried out at the Royal Marsden in London.
In August 2010, Penny had her bladder removed and the next six weeks she hovered closer to death than life. During this time, Spencer and Rachel took turns to be in London to support Rod, who by this time was showing signs of acute anxiety and mental incapacity. On one occasion, Rachel took the stairs to the intensive care unit but Rod took the lift due to his bad knee. For 30 minutes, Rachel stood outside the lift on the basement floor waiting for her father to arrive. It was just one floor, but Rod pushed every button. He was not sure which floor to get off on – despite having visited the intensive care unit every-day for six weeks.
The signs were there, but Spencer and Rachel put it down to him being stressed and worried about their mother. Finally, after nearly two months, the family returned to Dorset.
At 66-years-old, both Rod and Penny were never able to work again. Instead, they started to watch their lives unravel while Rachel and Spencer were unable to stop it from happening.
2010 – 2018
Penny never fully recovered from the radical cystectomy and instead of being able to take life easy, she had to care for Rod. By this time, Rod was becoming increasingly depressed, anxious, and forgetful. Penny kept a lot of what was going on secret from her children and close friends, as she wanted to protect Rod. Their world became narrow and small – friends would cross the road if they saw them out shopping. The two struggled on for a few more years and finally around 2016, Penny agreed to Rod seeing a neurologist to get him formally diagnosed. She frequently said, “I don’t need to stick a label on him to know its dementia,” but finally a consultant Neurologist provided the label. Rod was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
Rod tried multiple medications, but the drugs only made him worse. His gait became shuffled and he complained of the carpet “moving underfoot.” He slept much of the day. At night, he paced around measuring the bed cover and removing it whilst Penny tried to get some rest. Rod became incontinent and Penny began to worry he would choke on his food.
The dementia nurses couldn’t understand why his Alzheimer’s was progressing so fast – they had never seen anything like this before.
In 2017, Penny herself started to show signs of neurodegenerative illness. Her right leg developed a tremor and a neurologist diagnosed her with Parkinson’s soon after.
Despite this, Penny refused to place Rod into a care facility. Eventually Penny became desperate for sleep and finally agreed to move Rod into full-time care in April 2018. Within a week, Rod fell and Penny and Rachel arrived at the facility to see an ambulance parked outside. They walked into Rod’s room and were greeted by the ambulance staff. Rod was on the floor. He fractured his hip in the fall.
Rod spent two weeks in Poole Hospital. Doctors operated on his hip and tried to fight a sepsis infection, resulting in a main line being sewn into Rod’s neck to try and save his life. Because of Rod’s confusion, his hands were placed in mittens, so he couldn’t pull out the main line sewn into his jugular vein.
On the 16th of April 2018, just before 11 p.m., Rod died with Penny at his side. Spencer arrived shortly afterwards to sit with his parents. Rachel was in a complete state of distress and stayed with her husband. She refused to see her father’s body.
Because of the hip fracture, Rod’s body was sent for post-mortem, and it was determined Rod had died of Alzheimer’s and sepsis. The family consented to Rod’s brain being removed and sent to Dr. Willie Stewart in Glasgow. It wasn’t an easy decision for Rod’s wife and children, but they all felt passionately they needed to know what went so drastically wrong with Rod’s brain. Brain donation was the only way to answer their questions and to try and protect other footballers and their families from this brutal illness.
The process of the brain donation was handled personally by family friend, Dawn Astle. As the daughter of the England International Jeff Astle, Dawn and her family launched The Jeff Astle Foundation in 2015 and had been supporting the Taylor family since 2016. It fell on Dawn to liaise with Dr. Stewart and the coroner’s office to arrange for the transfer of Rod’s brain to the Glasgow Brain Injury Research Group. For the Taylor family, knowing Dawn was dealing with this meant they could concentrate on arranging Rod’s funeral which was held on the 11th of May. In front of hundreds of friends and family, Rod was laid to rest in a beautiful plot overlooking the Purbeck hills.
A few months after Rod’s death, Dr. Stewart rang Penny to confirm Rod in fact had CTE and dementia with Lewy Bodies. The family’s reaction was two-fold.
First, it gave them clarity and a better understanding of why Rod had behaved in certain ways in the early-mid stages of his illness. Second, it provided Rachel with an urgent determination that her father’s death would not be swept under the carpet by football, that his death would not be just an inconvenience and inconsequence to the sport. Today Rachel is a proud and active Trustee of The Jeff Astle Foundation and ‘wing-man’ to Dawn Astle.
Penny Taylor succumbed to Motor Neurone Disease passing away on 26th December 2020, she was 76 years old.
Before she died, she told Rachel to keep fighting, to fight for justice for her father and all the other footballers and their families. She said to tell the world that Rod Taylor deserved better, that they all deserved better.
Barry “Tizza” Taylor
On March 24, 2018, Steven Taylor, the son of legendary Australian rugby player and coach Barry “Tizza” Taylor, spoke at the launch of the Australian Sports Brain Bank in Sydney, Australia. His father’s Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) diagnosis, made by researchers at the UNITE Brain Bank in 2014, was considered a “wake-up call” for the Australian sports community. Steven spoke of his father’s glory years, how the degenerative brain disease affected him, and what his father’s legacy will be. Below is the transcript of Steven Taylor’s speech:
Steven Taylor talking about his father’s Legacy.
Over 4 years ago, I was sitting on a lounge with Dr. Ann McKee in a Conference Centre in Richmond, Virginia and she said, “I’ve held your father’s brain in my hands.” To which I replied, “I think you’re the first person that’s ever said that to me!”
A brief history of Barry Taylor
The son of an Australian Champion Boxer, living in the working class of Glebe, Dad was brought up tough… and to be tough. At 8-years-old the family moved to Manly where he became involved in swimming. He had a natural talent for sport, coupled with a strong will and in a few years, he would become a NSW and Australian Champion in Surf Life Saving.
In winter though, it was Rugby Union. He played 325 Grade games for Manly and, although he wasn’t the biggest guy on the field, he was one of the toughest, and took great pride in getting straight back into the game after a big hit. And I’m told he took quite a few.
His ability to rally and motivate people led him onto his coaching career. It was his passion, and he was good at it. He always coached the same way he played: tough. His ability to read the strategies and psychology of the game of Rugby Union and win games led him on to Coach Manly, the NSW Waratahs, the Australian Under 21’s and then on to coach internationally in Western Samoa, Japan, England and Uruguay.
Towards the end of this time overseas, Dad, in his late 50’s, began to show signs of abnormal behavior. Mum, who was always at his side, had to start covering for him. We didn’t realize that these were the first signs of dementia. After some challenging times, they returned to Australia and the madness began.
Living with CTE
So, I’m going to ask you a question. Think back to 1999. Where were you? What were you doing?
Today it is 2018. That’s 19 years, right? That’s how long Dad’s illness was. Who knows, it may have been longer. How do I try to explain what it’s like to live with someone with CTE and squash all those years into a few minutes? I’ll try.
Those of you who have experienced dementia with a loved one will have an idea of the roller coaster ride of craziness. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It moves and changes continuously, the only thing that remains constant is the steady decline, which, in dad’s case seemed to drop, then plateau for a while, drop again, then plateau, then drop, etc, etc. Sanity goes out the window, it’s confusing, frustrating, harrowing, frightening, destructive, illogical and extremely difficult to carry out a normal life. And the repetitive questions… relentless. The worrying, he must have asked Mum at least 40-50 times every night if all the lights were off, there’s no fun in it. No fun at all. Just when you thought you were on top of managing Dad’s madness, it would take off in another direction.
The Taylor family at the launch of the Australian Sports Brain Bank in March 2018.
In the beginning, it was fairly normal forgetfulness: Where are the car keys? Where did I park the car? Losing directions to somewhere he had been a thousand times, forgetting people’s names. Then the anger. Explosive moments of irrational anger, him wanting to fight, I suppose it was the internal frustration he must have felt, knowing that there was something terribly wrong going on in his mind. Dad never spoke much about his emotions even when he was well, and we never, ever spoke about it throughout his illness. Then it started getting scary. His aggression was spiraling. On one occasion we got into an argument — I can’t remember what it was about – and he had me up against a wall, with his fist clenched in a fit of rage. His eyes were crazy. This wasn’t my Dad! There were plenty of times as a young fella when I probably deserved a proper belting, but this was just craziness, it was the illness…
Fortunately, I was able to pull him down to the ground and just hold him until he calmed down. Luckily neither of us suffered any great injury. Very, very disturbing stuff. This happened more than once. So with the madness at its peak, we spoke with his GP (general practitioner) who diagnosed him with Alzheimer’s and began drug management. For some reason I didn’t think it was Alzheimer’s… I’m not sure why. One symptom of his illness at this point was paranoia; he wouldn’t take any pills because he thought we were trying to kill him. So, the doctor prescribed a drug in liquid form so it could be put in his food or a glass of water. Can you imagine having to do that?
But these drugs were way too heavy, we felt awful to see him so drugged so we set out to find a solution. Eventually we found the right balance of anti-psychotics and anti-depressants to try to give him some quality of life.
With Mum as his full time career and my sister Jenny and I doing our best to help out, the next few years were still extremely challenging and at times we were all pushed to our limits. Jenny was struggling with raising her two babies and trying to help out with caring for Dad and I unfortunately slipped into depression, which really wasn’t much help to anyone and it’s a battle that I still fight to this day. And Jenny and I have spoken since then about our own fears: Are we going to get this too? But at least Dad was now somewhat manageable, he was quite happy in his favorite chair and enjoyed short walks and drives in the car with Mum. But of course, the illness continued on its decline and eventually he lost control of his bodily functions. It was time for him to go into professional care; there was no way that Mum could possibly care for him at home any longer. She had, in my opinion, performed superhuman feats in caring for Dad and holding our family together, but it had taken its toll on her, she was mentally and physically exhausted.
We were lucky with the facility we found for Dad. Not only were the staff kind and considerate with him, they were also there for us as a family. Visiting him there was heartbreaking to say the least and the heavy feeling of guilt every time you left never got any easier. One day when I was visiting, I knew that he had already forgotten who I was, so out of curiosity I asked him what his name was.
He just looked at me and shrugged.
That’s how bad it got, he literally didn’t even know his own name. Part of the tragedy, is that his fearlessness and the physical contest of the sport he loved deprived him of a dignified old age and his family and friends of someone whom they loved. One night we got a call from the nursing home. He had finally passed away. He was 77 years old.
Closing
Peter (FitzSimons) spoke with Mum a couple of days later and after offering his condolences asked if the family would consider donating Dad’s brain to Boston University for research into CTE. We said “yes.” Dad had never been to Boston so it seemed like a good idea. As a family we are incredibly grateful to everyone involved who made it possible for Dad’s brain to make its incredible journey. It wasn’t easy, with many hurdles, but somehow it all happened. A year or so later we were invited to the Inaugural Family Huddle, a conference put on by the [Concussion Legacy Foundation] for all the families who had donated their loved one’s brains. It was fascinating to learn about the research by this wonderfully dedicated team of people into CTE, and surprisingly comforting to be amongst a group of strangers who had all been through similar experiences that we had. Swapping stories that night was such a healing experience, that we were not the only family that had gone through the horror of living with a loved one with CTE.
At the end of the evening, there I was on that lounge with Dr. Ann McKee, who performed the dissection and analysis on Dad’s brain. After telling me that she had held my father’s brain in her hands, she looked at me very compassionately and said, “I don’t know how he was functioning on any level at all, I can only imagine what you went through as a family.” I asked her if there were any markers of Alzheimer’s in her testings. She shook her head and said, “No, it was emphatically CTE that killed your father.” Finally, we had an answer to our years of questioning. Finally, we had closure.
So, we, the Taylor family, are very excited and hopeful that the Australian Sports Brain Bank will be a great success. We would like to congratulate all the people here who have worked so hard to set it up, and hope that research that can be carried out right here at home will lead to not only changes across all the sporting codes in regards to concussion, but more importantly, may lead to the ability to diagnose CTE in living patients. Perhaps then we can even find ways to treat this disease to prevent other families from going through the nightmare that we had to endure. Thank you.
To read Peter FitzSimons’ story of helping get his former coach’s brain donated after Barry Taylor died in 2013, click here.