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More Than Football in the Blood

The History Press

The Diary

17/11/08 – Discovery

My week started no different to any of the previous weeks. I was fighting back from a groin injury I had sustained against Forest Green in late September. It was a problem that had started just weeks into the start of the season, but I was managing to look after it and get through games. I thought I had a Gilmore's groin, which involves a tear of the abductor muscles, usually high up near the attachment to the pubic bone. In most cases it can be managed and it is a common injury in footballers throughout their careers, purely down to wear and tear. The best way to describe it is as if someone is hanging on the lower half of your body and won't let go. A few months into the league it was really taking its toll on me, but I wouldn't give in until late September. I was up early in the morning, had my breakfast, and headed in for training.

For some reason I decided to ring the club doctor and asked him to do a blood test on me after training. I hadn't been feeling the best, and had been coming home from training feeling totally fatigued. It was only today on my way to training that I started to feel a bit faint – it was as if I had no strength in my body and it felt as if it wanted to shut down. So putting two and two together I thought that I should ring the doctor, and ask him if he could do the blood test. When I had my groin operation a few weeks previously a nurse told me to get one, as she was concerned that I was bleeding more than normal when she removed the needle.

Training was fast and furious, and I was working hard with our exceptional physio Damian Davey. Then, after finishing my session with him, I asked if I could join in with the youth team for a five-a-side game, as I had not trained properly for over a month. I was running about like an idiot, knocking about and throwing my body here, there, and everywhere, as I would normally have done. I was just glad that I was involved in some form of physical contact, yet I didn't know how serious it all could have been. And then I went into the doctor and had a right laugh and joke about getting my blood done. I have no fear of needles as I have lots of tattoos – in fact, eight in total. After having the test I went home to the family for the night, to relax, and watch television.

Later that night I was sitting there with my missus, Gemma, and my little princess Amylia, watching I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here! – sad, I know, but that's the glamour of a footballer's life – when my phone rang. It was Raith Gwinnet, one of the club's young players saying that the doctor was at his house, the Club Lodge (this is a club house where the young players live when they move away from home. It's a house with lots of rooms and has a digs lady who looks after them like a second mum), waiting to speak to me.

After the usual pleasantries were exchanged I prepared myself for some advice about my groin injury. I didn't know it at the time, but that phone call would change my life forever. The doctor proceeded to tell me the most earth-shattering news I ever received in my life – the blood tests had come back with the result that I had leukaemia, and would have to go to the hospital the very next morning.

What a bombshell – today was the best I had felt in ages. Luckily Gemma was right next to me, and could hear everything. So there I was coming off the phone, breaking down, and wondering what the hell was happening, thinking about how I was ever going to tell my close family and friends that I had this illness. I suppose I was thinking more about them than I was about myself. I only ever thought that young children got leukaemia. I had been so healthy all of my life except for the routine footballer's injuries. All sorts of thoughts were going through my head. How could a killer disease strike me down in the prime of my life when I had always taken such good care of my health? This was going to be the hardest challenge I had ever been forced to face. Later on that night, Chris Hargreaves (Greavsey), the Torquay United club captain, rang for a chat, and I told him the news. There was silence on the other end of the phone. Within hours my family were down the M4 like a shot. Tomorrow is going to be the start of the biggest fight of my life.

18/11/08 – Is it True?

Having been told the news the previous day it still feels unreal. I'm a young, fit footballer – surely the diagnosis is wrong? I feel fit and healthy. The news only hit home earlier when I saw mum in the garden in floods of tears, in a terrible state of shock and distress. Then all of a sudden my dad popped out of my living room. We just stared at each other and smiled. Then the emotion got to both of us. He grabbed me so hard, I grabbed him back, and we didn't move for what felt like a lifetime. This was something we hadn't done for years, as we have other ways of showing our love. Then my mum came back into the house, broke down, and began cuddling me. So there we all were crying, yet at the same time all trying to be as strong as possible. I went upstairs, to get changed ready to go to the hospital, when my eldest brother Liam came out of one of the bedrooms, and as brothers do he just said, 'Are you OK, bro?' I could see he was hurting, but he is my big brother, and was going to be strong. So a deep breath and off I went to do battle.

It was like a road trip, with my missus, daughter, mum, dad, brother and Damian Davey, all joining me. We got to the hospital and I still didn't know what to think. I signed in and waited for the call to come. When it came I went into what looked like a dentist's room (there was even a chair like you'd find there). To ease the tension I cracked a joke (as you do), but the doctor didn't find it funny.

'Toddy, sit down and shut up,' I thought, as he told us the news. You could have heard a pin drop. There was a stunned silence, but the silence was broken by the doctor continuing to speak, my mum and missus sobbing, and Amylia making noises – too young to understand what was happening. He told me that I had Chronic Myeloid Leukaemia (CMl), explained what it was, how it could be treated, and then asked me if I wanted to go home and take things in. I replied 'no', and asked if I could start the treatment right away. I wasn't trying to be a hero, but thought to myself, 'let's start the fight'. I had more blood tests, and also a bone marrow test, which was a rather strange feeling as it feels like someone is drilling into your back, and then you get this big popping feeling when the bone marrow comes out.

A bone marrow test is to see whether there are cancer cells present. For this test, the doctor removes a tiny sample of bone marrow cells to look at under the microscope. These tests are largely done for cancers which are most likely to affect the bone marrow, such as lymphomas, myeloma and, of course my illness, leukaemia. But it can be done for any type of cancer, if your doctor thinks your bone marrow could contain cancer cells, or needs to rule it out for any reason.

When we got home my other two brothers had arrived (Thomas and James). Both of them were in bits, and wanted to know everything. I explained the story to them, and I don't know if they understood, but they tried to take it all in. That night they wanted to do something nice for me, so went on the internet and looked for 'livestrong' bands, which they could wear on their wrists to show their support and solidarity. I found this a nice touch ... until they asked me to pay for them.

They have hearts of gold but as they said themselves, 'big brothers always pay'. It had been a long day, but that wasn't the end of it. Torquay were playing Lewes in an important league match, putting a 14-game unbeaten run on the line, and I decided that I was going to go as normal. Paul Buckle (the Torquay manager) and Chris Hargeaves were the first people to know from the club, and they asked me how I wanted the rest of the lads to find out. I asked if I could tell them myself, which they agreed to. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, especially standing there watching grown men cry. I stayed strong, as I wanted to tell them everything, even some of the scientific stuff, which isn't my strong point. On the way out, they all shook my hand and I could see that they felt so many different things but they were right behind me. When they had all left it was me, my dad, the club doctor Andy Ryan, and Brian Paulk (a club director). My dad grabbed me, was in tears again, and whispered 'Cry – you're allowed to'. So that's what I did – and it felt good. It was so hard telling my team-mates, although they're much more than that to me. They're my sporting family. My friends.

The lads went on to win 4–1, and when Tim Sills scored the first goal early in the game, the lads ran to the dugout, got my shirt (number 6, the number I have tried to have at every club I've played at), and held it up, in respect and support, which touched me greatly. It was funny as well, as a fan sitting behind me said that they must have been doing it to wind me up, as I wasn't playing. He just didn't have a clue what was going on!

We are a very close squad, and I know people will say 'oh, we've heard that many times before', but the team spirit at this club is incredible. We are a family, and that includes the players, management and staff. We all have a special bond.

19/11/08 – Press Conference

I had to go down to Torquay's ground to do a press conference to let the public know about my illness, but most importantly how determined I was to fight it. My parents, Steve and Julie, Gemma and Amylia, Alex Rowe (chairman), Colin Lee (CEO), Paul Buckle (club manager) and Greavsey were all there. I knew how much support they were going to give me which was incredibly touching.

The whole press conference was surreal. It was like a scene out of the Premiership, so I cracked a joke telling the gaffer that this whole thing was really about me joining Manchester United, which gave him a good laugh. Colin spoke first, outlining that I had been diagnosed with CML. When it was my turn to speak I started with a bit of humour, saying 'Obviously it's a bit of bad news for me!' In my whole career I have never done as many interviews. I told mum and dad that I should record myself, and just play it every time someone was interviewing me.

Looking back it's like a jigsaw puzzle – you remember things that you couldn't understand at the time. I was struggling to keep up with the lads in pre-season. I'm a pretty good athlete and was always at the top of the bunch, and I couldn't understand why I was behind them all the time. I guess I just thought that I had too good an off season!

I know I have had upsets in my career and this is just another one – I will deal with it, and will be back. I've had many setbacks in my career that have made me a better player and a stronger person. I've got to tell you about four of the worst games I have been involved in:

Lincoln v Swansea

With only a few full league games under my belt everything had been going so well up until this one. I played by far my worst 10 minutes of football at Sincil Bank. It was going well for the first 35 minutes, then I gave a needless foul away just outside the box and Tony Thorpe decided to step up and blast it into the back of the net. 1–0 down. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, within a couple of minutes I hit a short back-pass that went totally wrong and their winger latched onto it and all of a sudden it's 2–0. By this time I wanted to be swallowed up by the ground. At the end of the game we had lost 2–0 and it was all my fault. It was a hard lesson to learn so early in my career. It was by far my worst half of football in a Swansea shirt!

Cardiff v Swansea (FAW Premier Cup final, May 2002)

This was my first chance to play in a Cardiff derby, and being a local lad it was something I had always dreamed of – playing against our biggest rivals. It was coming to the end of the season and my contract was coming to an end. I wanted so badly to play, then manager Nick Cusack dropped me and stuck me on the bench! Little did I know that was to be the beginning of the end of my Swansea career. I was an unused sub in a 1–0 defeat to a Graham Kavanagh goal. It always disappoints me to think that I never got the chance to play in a Jack–Bluebird derby.

Exeter v Morecambe (play-off final, May 2007)

To captain a team at Wembley was my boyhood dream, but to lose there as captain and have to walk up those great stairs was a nightmare. We went 1–0 up with a Lee Phillips goal and everything was rosy. I even gave a penalty away that Paul Jones saved from Wayne Curtis to spare my blushes. Then, just when we thought our name was on the cup, 3 minutes before half time we lost a goal because of some sloppy defending. After the break the game became a cagey affair with nothing much happening. It looked like we would be heading for extra time, until, on the 82nd minute, a long, hoofed clearance produced a wonder goal by Danny Carlton that killed 30,000 Grecian fans' dreams (and my own).

Torquay Utd v Ebbsfleet (FA Trophy final, May 2008)

Wembley again and another bad day. This time I was the man at fault for a lapse of concentration in our 1–0 defeat. A minute before half time a ball played down the line where I was covering looked to be running out of play on Wembley's lush turf – well that's what I thought! The ball decided to hold up just before the line and their striker Jon Akinde robbed me of the ball and crossed it to Chris McPhee (who had missed a penalty earlier) to do the rest. I felt sick and couldn't believe my bad luck.

To this day I wish I had not trusted the lush surface and just booted it into the thousands of fans, but hey, that's football.

20/11/08 – Back Training

I was determined to get on with life as normal, so this morning I went off to training as per usual. It was just the injured lads there, so I went for a run with two of them: Wayne Carlisle and Nicky Wroe. It started off as a small run, but after a while the lads started to kick on, moving away from me. I shouted after them, 'For God's sake, lads! Any chance of slowing down? I've got leukaemia, remember?' They turned around and didn't know what to say, not sure if I was serious or not. But I just fell about the place laughing, as did they. Wayne then roared back, 'I'm not giving you any advantages, I want you back playing.' After the run the lads went in, and Damian and myself played a game of head-tennis, which I won. It was close as he's still got a bit about him, but if he had won I would have retired.

Afterwards I told Damian that I needed to do something, and so I started shouting as loud as I could to try to relieve all the pain inside me. It was loud (I am Welsh after all), and it felt good.

A great support to me has been my team-mate and friend Chris Hargreaves. 'Greavesy' is one of my best friends. Let's just say he looks like a good-looking Frank Gallagher from the television show Shameless. The two of us were Paul Buckle's first two signings when he took over. When I first saw him I thought to myself, 'Who is this flash foreign guy?', but then he opened his mouth and I soon realised that he was a witty northerner who had picked up a few bits of slang on his football travels. It's ironic really, as soon after chatting to him I realised that we had a lot of shared history. We had both appeared in the play-off semi-final just a year earlier in a dramatic 4–3 Exeter City win over Oxford, where we both captained each team, me being on the happier side (Exeter). When we chatted some more I found out that I had played against him when I made my debut as a 19-year-old for Swansea against Northampton in a 1–1 draw. From that day we hit it off, becoming great car buddies, roomies and most importantly, great friends.

Chris later became Torquay's captain, and is someone who, as a player, I have so much respect for, even though his banter is as dry as it comes. How could I not? The guy is a natural winner, a true football gladiator with a great football pedigree, and to still be playing at his age in the shape he is in is a credit to the man. Given the chance, one day he will make a great manager. Oh, by the way, I am still alive and kicking.

21/11/08 – Fighting Back

Did a few weights in the gym, went for a quick jog, then had a game of head-tennis with Wayne Carlisle that I lost 2–1. We were playing Woking in a massive game; our form was good but a lot of teams were playing well. That night we got to the hotel where we had an evening meal together before all the lads went to bed. Yes, the Friday nights away generally consist of a big feed, and then an early night. But the gaffer told the two of us that we could go off for a drink if we fancied it. There was a little pub around the corner where we had a few pints of the 'black stuff', and got chatting to a few people who were also staying in our hotel. They were salesmen, so a bit full of it, as you can imagine. One of them cracked jokes all night long, which was something that I really needed. This is one of them, although it is rather cheesy. A polar bear walked into a bar, goes up to the barmaid and says, 'Can I get a pint offffffff ... Fosters please?' The barmaid then replies, 'Why the big pause?' The polar bear then says, 'I'm a polar bear'.

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Excerpted from More Than Football in the Blood by Chris Todd. Copyright © 2012 Chris Todd. Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
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