IAN HERBERT: What this beautiful portrayal of friendship should mean to us all

Of course it was not obvious. There was the straps around his old friend that he had to loosen and then the process of gently getting him out of the seat in a dignified manner. The glasses that shielded his eyes almost fell off. His waterproof bag got in the way.

But they managed to cross the finish line of the Leeds Marathon together on Sunday in a scene that transcended the petty self-interest and bickering of sport and testified to the enduring power of friendship. Rob Burrow raised his head slightly as they stood there under a gray sky. Kevin Sinfield seemed to grip him a little tighter. It was a scene to make your heart beat faster.

That friendship was untouchable during the abysmal decline of Burrow, the man who seemed unbreakable as a short, fast, tough, talented rugby league player when they played together on the Leeds Rhinos team. Burrow has lost so much since his motor neuron disease diagnosis in 2019, though this friendship has triumphed and even surpassed what they had as teammates. With Sinfield and others closest to him, Burrow is not alone.

It was the sense of loneliness that struck me most when I met Fernando Ricksen a few years ago, the former Rangers football player who also lived with this condition. It was a Saturday night at the Tradeston Ex-Servicemen’s club near Ibrox, and when Ricksen rolled through a side door, the room rose to greet him, alive with love and noise.

He was among friends and family, including his wife Veronika, and grown men couldn’t help but kneel down on the spot and hug him. But what incalculable sadness – Ricksen could hear and see everything that went on in a room where supporters lined up to have their picture taken with him, but unable to even raise a hand to make a gesture of affection in return.

Sinfield gives Burrow a loving kiss to mark the moment they cross the finish line

Mail Sport columnist Ian Herbert (pictured) said the moment during the marathon was heartwarming

Sinfield has kept his friend’s torch burning. You only had to see Burrow on that finish line, raising his head to survey the scene as Sinfield held him, to know that. But this is a friendship of equals. Sinfield, who had pushed Burrow all over the Leeds marathon circuit, has found a purpose that transcends sport. “The past few years have shown me what to do with my life,” he tells my colleague David Coverdale in an interview to be published here later this week.

It was Burrow, in one of their daily text exchanges, who encouraged Sinfield to embark on a new autobiography, The Extra Mile – a beautiful portrait of friendship and a powerful treatise on the need to provide athletes with a greater duty of care. Sinfield’s detailed description in the book of his initial concerns and the months leading up to Burrow’s diagnosis is unforgettable. Research in 2019 showed that the risks of developing MND are more than eight times higher in those who take repeated blows to the head and spine in elite sports.

Sinfield describes in the book how in 2019 he ran through villages at 3 a.m. on a 24-hour, 101-mile fundraiser, to find people coming out of homes in their pajamas to offer donations. The £1 million he raised from that challenge was testament to what an inspiration he and Burrow have been to so many. The run ended at Headingley, where Burrow was waiting for him. “You don’t realize the impact you’ve had on me,” Sinfield told him that day.

It was a big step towards the £6.8 million needed to build a care center for people with ALS, in Burrow’s name. Sinfield’s work also helps fund new drug trials and keeps the government on its commitment to invest £50 million.

Sinfield pondered last week whether government is doing enough, or even society, in this unforgiving world where time and consideration for others seem to be increasingly scarce. Time is perhaps the greatest gift we can give, he suggested. “Without getting too political, if you look at politicians and the way government is set up,” Sinfield said. They have to make things better for people. We’ve probably lost sight of that. As a society we have become quite selfish.’

He did not want to be too political with such statements, he said. He didn’t want to stoop to the assumption that people will always be willing to give. There would probably always be compassion fatigue, he reflected. And then it happened last Sunday. The two of them running a marathon together, for that moment at the finish line – an incredible and indelible testament to brotherhood, friendship and teamwork.

The Extra Mile, by Kevin Sinfield, is published by Century for £20 hardcover

www.mndassociation.org

Why no Paisley stand at Anfield?

This week marked 40 years since Bob Paisley dropped the curtain on a glorious managerial career and rarely a year goes by without his achievements seeming all the greater. Other managers have come and gone, but none have brought Liverpool silverware so consistently for so long.

Jurgen Klopp is more exuberant than Paisley. Just like Bill Shankly. Neither man has held a candle to Paisley’s performance. He didn’t want a fuss when it was time to go. Graeme Souness literally pushed him towards the Kop to catch the applause after the last home game, against Aston Villa. But it’s puzzling that Anfield, which so wonderfully marks the contribution of its heroes, doesn’t have a Bob Paisley stand.

Bob Paisley poses with the UEFA Cup, Charity Shield and League Championship trophies in 1976

The day a police dog bit my right back!

I wrote here last week about the Cambridge United fans’ delirium following their dramatic escape on the final day of the drop, although that pales in comparison to the drama of some who have emailed me.

Former Torquay United manager Stuart Morgan tells how his side equalized in second-half stoppage time against Crewe Alexandra on the final day of 1987 as they tried to avoid becoming the first team to be automatically relegated from the Football League. In the chaos, a police dog bit Morgan’s right-back Jimmy McNichol, requiring 30 stitches. “We drew and Lincoln City went down,” says Stuart. “Jimmy survived too.”

Madmen attacking bosses is becoming commonplace

The frenzied Leeds United pitch invader who confronted Eddie Howe at Elland Road only made headlines for a day or so. Arrest made. Lifetime ban. Apologies issued. Little awareness of how shocking that scene was. Maybe we’re getting immune. Around this time last year, a Nottingham Forest fan attacked Billy Sharp of Sheffield United.

It’s time for clubs to pay for security that reflects the threat at these death chamber games. And for those in the company of such madmen to keep them in check.

A Leeds fan (right) confronted Eddie Howe (left) on the touchline during Newcastle’s game with Leeds at Elland Road on Saturday

City’s tiresome boo boys

Manchester City awaits a night of potentially huge significance, with every bit of evidence suggesting their moment has finally arrived in the Champions League. Packed with world-class players, this stunning squad belongs in the pantheon of Europe and now it’s time for their fans to embrace the tournament too. The booing of the UEFA anthem is as exhausting as the belief that the club is somehow the victim of a UEFA conspiracy as they have been charged twice with spending breaches.

I clearly remember Pep Guardiola addressing the booing at his first City press conference in 2016. “They have to forget what happened in the past,” he said. “All we can do is play better every time and people will say, ‘I’ll spend 90 minutes in the stadium and have fun’.” He kept that promise.