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Man who fell to earth
Mike Colman
November 03, 2006 11:00pm
SEAS of change . . . Adam Ritson on Wanda Beach at Cronulla. 'I've had a lot of bad luck but a lot of good things happened too.' Picture: Brett Costello.
IT was like a scene from a movie. Actually, it was a scene from a movie.
Adam Ritson, once the biggest story in rugby league the kid at the centre of the greatest upheaval in the game's history was on the set of the film League Legends. All the greats were there to record their cameo roles: Bradley Clyde, Brett Kenny, Cliff Lyons, Gary Larson.
Ritson was doing his bit in front of the camera too, but not as a featured footy star. As an extra, a face in the crowd.
Their paths crossed. He said g'day, they nodded back. And kept walking. "They didn't know who I was," he says without bitterness. "Mate, I'm a Neville these days."
How times have changed. Some 11 years ago he was rugby league's hottest property. One year later he was lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life. He hasn't been to a footy game since.
We are sitting in the living room of his parents' home, a few minutes drive from Cronulla's Toyota Park where he made his first-grade debut for the Sharks in 1992 aged just 16. He's cheery, chatty. The knockabout smile and self-deprecating humour firing on all cylinders.
It is a far cry from the last time I saw Adam Ritson, almost 10 years ago to the day. He was a patient at Ryde Rehabilitation Centre, speaking in slow, slurred monotone, unable to remember what had happened five minutes earlier let alone a day, a week, a year before.
He still can't recall what went on in those terrifying few months. The head-high tackle by Canberra's John Lomax which sent him to a clinic for precautionary X-rays. The doctors telling him they had found an unrelated, benign cyst on the base of his brain, the "routine" operation to drain it which, they said, would see him back playing in a matter of weeks. The complications, the 12 more operations, the life support and his mother's public appeal for people to pray for her son. The torturous, one-step-forwards two-steps-backwards recovery.
He can't remember a thing about Ryde, so I tell him. About the signs on the corridors which said "Adam Your Room Is This Way"; about the prayers and poems which filled the wall above his head and the centre's motto "Never Say Never".
"It's all bit hazy," he says. "It's probably just as well. Ten years. What have I done in those 10 years? Not much, but I'm alive. That's the main thing."
There's another thing which Ritson doesn't let himself think about too often. What if Lomax hadn't hit him high in that tackle? What if the doctors had never seen the cyst?
It might never have bothered him, he might be still happily playing football with his mates, starring in Origin and Test matches, clowning around on The Footy Show, raking in the dough. He could have been the one doing the cameo on League Legends, not the extra in the crowd scene.
"You just don't know, do you?" he says. "People wrote me letters saying they had the same thing as me and it never worried them, so I could be sitting here today and never know I had the thing. How would you know? I've had a lot of bad luck but a lot of good things happened too. If my life hadn't changed I never would have met my girlfriend so I was lucky there, and I had great support from my family and friends. I got through, I'm still here."
True, but one doesn't have to look far to start thinking about what might have been.
On a sideboard in the living room is a framed photograph of the Australian Schoolboys under-15 team of 1991. Standing proudly in the back row is Ritson. Beside him is Tonie Carroll who last month, a veteran of 14 Origins and Test matches for both Australia and New Zealand, played in his fourth NRL grand final.
By 1996, before Carroll had made his first-grade debut, 20 year-old front-rower Ritson was one of the highest paid players in the game, being paraded as Parramatta's prize signing and looking forward to as much as 15 years' top football. A few weeks later his career was over.
He doesn't allow himself to be angry and just shrugs his giant shoulders when reminded of the crucial role he played in the game's darkest hour.
When he ran on against the Western Reds on Friday, March 31, 1995, Ritson was 19 years old and earning $40,000 a year. A few hours later he was offered $20,000 plus $150,000 a year to sign for Super League.
All over the country players older, wiser and far more experienced were taking the money and agreeing to terms, but Ritson refused to sign anything until he spoke to his manager Steve Gillis.
Given 24 hours to make up his mind, Ritson eventually signed with the ARL after James Packer and Lachlan Murdoch had personally become involved and upped the ante several times.
His signature sparked the fightback which saw the ARL stay in the game.
As former league boss John Quayle said, if not for Ritson the ARL was 48 hours away from total capitulation.
It is impossible to know how much Ritson could have earned between then and now if not for his misfortune, but it would be in the millions.
He isn't broke. Under the terms of his final contract he received half his money from the ARL and Parramatta stuck by him, paying his out-of-pocket medical expenses. There was also an insurance policy and a benefit night.
The money is invested, but Ritson is still living a few suburbs away from Easy Street.
Slight health problems remain, although controlled with medication. He can't drink, after suffering blackouts, and takes a daily tablet, Keenmind, to combat memory loss.
For all that, he can still joke about the hand he has been dealt. Asked about any ongoing memory problems he answered: "No, I'm 100 per cent now Jeremy. Sorry, what were you talking about again?"
Four years ago Gillis wrote to some key people involved in the game, asking if they could help with employment.
David Gallop offered a job on the Rugby League Roadtrain, which travels around the country exhibiting interactive displays and memorabilia at shows and exhibitions.
"Best job in the world," he says, but with a new sponsor taking over, much of that work has dried up, as has the part-time bar work at a local club.
"I guess I'm going to have to get a real job," he said.
"I've never had one of them before. I always used to say about football that it beats working for a living. I guess I'm going to have to find out. Still, what can you do?
"I haven't got the life I could have had, I've just got a different life."
And it is a life which still tosses up the occasional bonus.
Six years ago, after he was nominated by an old rugby league contact, Ritson ran with the Olympic torch through the streets of Sutherland.
"That was really something," he said. "Everyone was so excited, the crowd was huge. They were all cheering for me."
Just like Shark Park on a big day back in 1995.
Source:http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,20695329-10389,00.html
Mike Colman
November 03, 2006 11:00pm
IT was like a scene from a movie. Actually, it was a scene from a movie.
Adam Ritson, once the biggest story in rugby league the kid at the centre of the greatest upheaval in the game's history was on the set of the film League Legends. All the greats were there to record their cameo roles: Bradley Clyde, Brett Kenny, Cliff Lyons, Gary Larson.
Ritson was doing his bit in front of the camera too, but not as a featured footy star. As an extra, a face in the crowd.
Their paths crossed. He said g'day, they nodded back. And kept walking. "They didn't know who I was," he says without bitterness. "Mate, I'm a Neville these days."
How times have changed. Some 11 years ago he was rugby league's hottest property. One year later he was lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life. He hasn't been to a footy game since.
We are sitting in the living room of his parents' home, a few minutes drive from Cronulla's Toyota Park where he made his first-grade debut for the Sharks in 1992 aged just 16. He's cheery, chatty. The knockabout smile and self-deprecating humour firing on all cylinders.
It is a far cry from the last time I saw Adam Ritson, almost 10 years ago to the day. He was a patient at Ryde Rehabilitation Centre, speaking in slow, slurred monotone, unable to remember what had happened five minutes earlier let alone a day, a week, a year before.
He still can't recall what went on in those terrifying few months. The head-high tackle by Canberra's John Lomax which sent him to a clinic for precautionary X-rays. The doctors telling him they had found an unrelated, benign cyst on the base of his brain, the "routine" operation to drain it which, they said, would see him back playing in a matter of weeks. The complications, the 12 more operations, the life support and his mother's public appeal for people to pray for her son. The torturous, one-step-forwards two-steps-backwards recovery.
He can't remember a thing about Ryde, so I tell him. About the signs on the corridors which said "Adam Your Room Is This Way"; about the prayers and poems which filled the wall above his head and the centre's motto "Never Say Never".
"It's all bit hazy," he says. "It's probably just as well. Ten years. What have I done in those 10 years? Not much, but I'm alive. That's the main thing."
There's another thing which Ritson doesn't let himself think about too often. What if Lomax hadn't hit him high in that tackle? What if the doctors had never seen the cyst?
It might never have bothered him, he might be still happily playing football with his mates, starring in Origin and Test matches, clowning around on The Footy Show, raking in the dough. He could have been the one doing the cameo on League Legends, not the extra in the crowd scene.
"You just don't know, do you?" he says. "People wrote me letters saying they had the same thing as me and it never worried them, so I could be sitting here today and never know I had the thing. How would you know? I've had a lot of bad luck but a lot of good things happened too. If my life hadn't changed I never would have met my girlfriend so I was lucky there, and I had great support from my family and friends. I got through, I'm still here."
True, but one doesn't have to look far to start thinking about what might have been.
On a sideboard in the living room is a framed photograph of the Australian Schoolboys under-15 team of 1991. Standing proudly in the back row is Ritson. Beside him is Tonie Carroll who last month, a veteran of 14 Origins and Test matches for both Australia and New Zealand, played in his fourth NRL grand final.
By 1996, before Carroll had made his first-grade debut, 20 year-old front-rower Ritson was one of the highest paid players in the game, being paraded as Parramatta's prize signing and looking forward to as much as 15 years' top football. A few weeks later his career was over.
He doesn't allow himself to be angry and just shrugs his giant shoulders when reminded of the crucial role he played in the game's darkest hour.
When he ran on against the Western Reds on Friday, March 31, 1995, Ritson was 19 years old and earning $40,000 a year. A few hours later he was offered $20,000 plus $150,000 a year to sign for Super League.
All over the country players older, wiser and far more experienced were taking the money and agreeing to terms, but Ritson refused to sign anything until he spoke to his manager Steve Gillis.
Given 24 hours to make up his mind, Ritson eventually signed with the ARL after James Packer and Lachlan Murdoch had personally become involved and upped the ante several times.
His signature sparked the fightback which saw the ARL stay in the game.
As former league boss John Quayle said, if not for Ritson the ARL was 48 hours away from total capitulation.
It is impossible to know how much Ritson could have earned between then and now if not for his misfortune, but it would be in the millions.
He isn't broke. Under the terms of his final contract he received half his money from the ARL and Parramatta stuck by him, paying his out-of-pocket medical expenses. There was also an insurance policy and a benefit night.
The money is invested, but Ritson is still living a few suburbs away from Easy Street.
Slight health problems remain, although controlled with medication. He can't drink, after suffering blackouts, and takes a daily tablet, Keenmind, to combat memory loss.
For all that, he can still joke about the hand he has been dealt. Asked about any ongoing memory problems he answered: "No, I'm 100 per cent now Jeremy. Sorry, what were you talking about again?"
Four years ago Gillis wrote to some key people involved in the game, asking if they could help with employment.
David Gallop offered a job on the Rugby League Roadtrain, which travels around the country exhibiting interactive displays and memorabilia at shows and exhibitions.
"Best job in the world," he says, but with a new sponsor taking over, much of that work has dried up, as has the part-time bar work at a local club.
"I guess I'm going to have to get a real job," he said.
"I've never had one of them before. I always used to say about football that it beats working for a living. I guess I'm going to have to find out. Still, what can you do?
"I haven't got the life I could have had, I've just got a different life."
And it is a life which still tosses up the occasional bonus.
Six years ago, after he was nominated by an old rugby league contact, Ritson ran with the Olympic torch through the streets of Sutherland.
"That was really something," he said. "Everyone was so excited, the crowd was huge. They were all cheering for me."
Just like Shark Park on a big day back in 1995.
Source:http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,23739,20695329-10389,00.html
