Ivory Coast’s wing is far from bitter despite his terrible injuries that cast a shadow over the recent World Cup
RUGBY: Alex Duval Smith
MAX BRITO’s memories of the Rugby World Cup are the same as anyone else’s. But the vision of President Nelson Mandela in Springbok shirt and matching cap, and the spectacle of Jonah Lomu driving the All Black bulldozer, will stay in Brito’s mind longer than in
They are the memories which crown the 27-year-old Ivory Coast wing’s time in what he already calls the “other world” — that of the mobile. He left it at Rustenburg stadium on June 3 when he was crushed after a tackle only two minutes into the Pool D match against Tonga.
Brito keeps the ball from the match, signed by his team-mates, by his bedside in Room 102 of a rehabilitation ward near Bordeaux. Unless he defies all predictions Brito, now quadriplegic, will never again sign his own name.
Still filled with the memories of South Africa and buoyed by the world attention his accident prompted, Brito has no hard feelings.
“How could I regret a moment of it? The guy who tackled me could just as easily have had the accident. Besides, it wasn’t one guy, it was a maul — loads of people. I couldn’t blame a specific person if I wanted to,” he said, speaking in the heavily accented Toulousian French he grew up with after his family had come to France from Ivory Coast when he was five years old.
As he watched his wife Murielle stroke his limp right arm, he added: “When it happened, I knew immediately that I was paralysed. It was as if I had been electrocuted: 220 volts straight through me and that was it. I felt my body stiffen and I sensed the feeling evaporating from my left arm and chest. I never screamed or lost consciousness. I felt it all happen.”
Sat in a high-backed wheelchair, his Rasta hairstyle shaved off and his Hi-Tec trainers looking oversized at the end of his skinny legs, it was difficult to comprehend how Brito could look back with equanimity on the “other world”. From time to time during the interview, Murielle had to prop him up as his upper body lurched uncontrollably to the right.
In six weeks his weight had dropped from 73kg to 63kg and it is hard to imagine that he once had the muscle and speed to make him an asset to the Ivory Coast Elephants, or even to his team in France, the third division Biscarrosse.
Did he not wish, deep down, that rugby’s explosive progress from amateur to professional level had not taken him to a championship where his 13th-seeded team would inevitably find itself mismatched? “Not at all. We got to South Africa: that alone was proof of our
“Besides, we played Scotland and France before the Tonga game. No way could you say that Tonga [the No. 12 seeds] was a mismatch. It was just an awful accident.”
Neither did he feel that protective gear should be introduced: “It’s always the neck that gets it, or the knees. I have had one knee operation in the past, but you can’t protect the neck.
“On the whole the referees are very mindful of the dangers in mismatches and act accordingly.”
Nevertheless he was aware that, compared with the stars of international rugby, he was just an electrician who went to South Africa after playing with his 21-year-old brother Fabrice in an amateur team whose main claim to fame is that it is based near Toulouse, in the rugby heart of France.
“That’s the beauty of the sport. It’s like the Olympics, only better. There was little me in this great big contest.”
Murielle’s brother has bought Brito a second rugby ball which he keeps by his bedside for famous visitors to sign. Names such as Platini and Blanco are already on it. Recently they organised a charity soccer match for Brito; four thousand spectators paid 50 francs each and the presence of television networks put Biscarrosse on the map for the first time.
“The response has been phenomenal but we are going to need every penny,” said Murielle, who has already looked into the cost of adapting the couple’s home to Brito’s disability.
The couple have two children, Antony, aged three, and Mike, aged six. Murielle does not have a job.
The couple hope Brito will be allowed home for a weekend in five or six weeks’ time, then for prolonged periods until he can return for good. Meanwhile Brito spends an hour a day with an ergonomist and two hours with a physiotherapist in the hope of salvaging some of his muscle tissue.