RIP Rob Burrow
A tribute to the mighty former Leeds Rhinos no.7
Last Sunday one of my sporting heroes passed away - Rob Burrow.
What. A. Guy.
I bawled my eyes whilst watching the BBC documentary about his life since his MND diagnosis. I don’t think I’ve cried that hard at something since watching ‘The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and The Horse’ during Christmas 2022.
I idolised players like Burrow growing up. I was never the most talented rugby player but personally, I think I stretched my abilities as far as I could take them in game. I played for my county and went to trials for North England and I’m proud of the level I got to. However if it wasn’t for players like Burrow, I doubt I’d have even made it that far. We need heroes to inspire us and in Rob Burrow I found the perfect one.
On the face of things, rugby is a big man's game. The problem was height was one of those things that always evaded me. Growth spurts didn’t really happen in my case and after trying as hard as I could, a grand total of 5ft 6in was all I could muster in the end. On account of this, people tried to warn me off playing rugby claiming that I was too small. I’d love for such naysayers to have just been naive kids who didn’t know any better, but I got this bullshit rhetoric thrown at me by fully grown adults too.
Rugby (both codes) is a sport dominated by big, burly, powerful blokes so I got where people were coming from when they tried to dissuade me. They were looking at the overarching theme of physiques in the game and dismissing me because I wasn’t part of this club. I hated that.
I was short but I was also fast, powerful, aggressive and light on my feet. I still had plenty to offer and I knew I could do some damage if given the chance.
When you’re a kid growing up, making your first foray into a new yet highly physical sport, it can be quite an unnerving experience. Because I’d been told to sack it off too, it was even more daunting. Even though I was generally tenacious and determined when it came to sporting endeavours, there was still a lingering doubt that I could play rugby and that I’d get hurt.
Thank god then for the little guys of the game, the trail blazers, the exceptions to the rule.
Burrow was one such exception.
For kids like me he was proof that you can punch above your weight and mix it with the big boys. He was the inspiration I needed to see with my own eyes, but Burrow stood out for more than just being the little guy amongst giants. The diminutive no.7 was the best of the lot. In a big man’s world he was king. For a small guy like me, he was pure fire, the antidote to the patronising, witless dickheads that said I wouldn’t be able to hack it.
If you ever watched Leeds Rhinos and Burrow was on the pitch he was the one everyone had eyes on. He was what you paid your money for really. Whether you idolised him like I did or not, when Burrow got the ball the whole crowd held their breath in anticipation. Something magic was about to happen, you could feel it. The sheer talent he possessed made even the most monstrous of forwards shit their pants with fear of being waltzed round and humiliated.
The dazzling feet, the drop of the shoulder, the change of direction and blistering acceleration. The man was just fucking wonderful to watch - Dominant. At the peak of his powers he was the best in the world… All 5ft 4in of him too.
Jason Robinson was the other guy I idolised in the same domain. A similar player and equally successful but what I personally took from watching Burrow burst onto the scene was that Robbo wasn't the sole exception. It gave me more belief and reaffirmed that I SHOULD play the game. Short guys were here to stay and we weren’t just here to make up the numbers.
Having seen Burrow strut his stuff, the first time I stepped onto a Rugby pitch I had the confidence to go out there and express my abilities. I knew I could stick it to the bigger lads even praying they underestimate me so I could punish them for their naivety. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I shat myself at the size of some of the lads I came up against, but when push came to shove I rallied in taking the game to them.
‘Use what you have to full effect,’ I thought, ‘what people see as your weaknesses, make them your strengths.’ This is what I really learnt from Burrow.
Lack of height = low centre of gravity, easy to change direction.
Lack of weight = Better acceleration.
Both of these things combined = A commitment to focussing on technical ability.
What people perceived as a lack of physicality meant players like me couldn’t be sloppy, we had to be extra vigilant if we were going to thrive on the pitch. Tackles, passes, body positions, decision making, foot work, reading of the game, aggression - they all had to be that bit better than a person with a bigger frame. Our margin for error was smaller.
For sure it helped my game, but I didn’t have the level of raw talent needed to go any further. Burrow however did and his conquering the rugby world was proof of such mastery.
Burrows' final message hit me right in the gut when I watched the documentary I mentioned earlier on Monday.
“Whatever your personal battle, be brave and face it… In a world full of adversity we must still dare to dream.”
If ever it was crystal clear that someone’s wisdom was genuine and plucked from the depths of raw experience, this was it.
Burrow’s tenacity on the pitch clearly served him well off it. His battle with MND albeit short mirrored his conduct on it. Nobody would have blamed him if he wanted a quiet, low key life after his diagnosis but this man had other ideas. A born leader, this wasn’t the kind of person that was ever going to stay quiet.
I cannot begin to understand how a person takes the kind of news where someone tells you you have an incurable disease that’s going to kill you. I don’t know what went through his mind or how he felt upon learning his fate but whatever the case he simply refused to let MND consume his identity. The fact he spoke out so fervently and with such fearlessness about the disease showed us he wasn’t willing to go down without a fight. With the aid of his best friend, former team mate and ‘guardian angel’ Kevin Sinfield, he raised the profile of MND like no other. To answer your question then Rob, yes, yes you did leave your mark on the disease and you’ll be forever remembered for not giving in.
Brave doesn’t really do Burrow justice. I never knew the man personally but from what I saw from his public appearances, I saw an emotionally grounded, wise and generous person.
What really got me choking up though was this. He knew his actions in speaking out so tirelessly about MND wouldn’t result in a cure in his lifetime, but he did it anyway. He knew would never reap the fruits of his labour and still he pressed on and never let up, right until the day he died.
“A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit.”
Rob Burrow embodied this proverb and as a result of the work he and Sinfield have done, such trees have certainly been planted.
The world lost a real gem on Sunday, a hero on and off the pitch.
Thanks for everything Rob Burrow, you are a true inspiration.
You made the world a better place.
As a lifelong fan and former rugby player, I salute you.
Yours truly,
Will Green.