Coaching With Surgical Precision

Paul: I didn’t even know I had epilepsy until a year or so before I retired. I wasn’t having grand mals. I was having auras since birth and didn’t know what they were. My mum thought they were just tantrums. I thought that was how my body handled pressure. I’ve got an exam coming up and bingo, off I’d go.

I even experienced an aura while marking Maradona in Argentina, playing the World Cup qualifiers . He got away from me, crossed the ball and they scored. That’s hardly fair! You can still run around while having an aura. It’s just a horrible, horrible feeling.

I had my first full blown seizure on that same trip in front of the Socceroo ‘physio’. I had absolutely no idea what was happening to me. I couldn’t remember anything except teammates asking "are you all right?" I went ‘yeah, why?’ They told me that my that eyes rolled back in my head and I fell.

Of course, my wife dragged me down there, and sure enough, a scratch on the brain and epilepsy. It took me a while to grasp what it actually meant. I was in shock.

What stopped me from telling everyone was that fear of discrimination. By the time I  started work as a television commentator my seizures were getting stronger, including ‘grand mal’. You can imagine being the host of a television program, on air 10 hours a week, I lived in fear of having a seizure in front of the whole world. All I needed was for the medication to get me through the 2 hours ‘live’ each day and I would be right. So I had to time my medication to the minute. I ‘d been pretty diligent up to that point and when I had an aura I’d just try not to make it look obvious It went really well until one day I got caught, big time.

In 2001, the Socceroos were playing France and I was commentating. I had to grab a player for the post-match interview so I cornered the captain, Paul Okon. Well, the background was that I’d been blackbanned by the Socceroos, they weren’t talking to me, because I had a go at them in a previous game. So when I asked the Socceroo Captain he was pretty hesitant "should I …shouldn’t I". Well I got him in front of the camera and as I started to ask the first question, my seizure started. I can remember the questions I asked him but I can’t for the life of me remember the slurred voice or the smacking of the lips. I do remember coming out of it, and seeing Paul walking away swearing at me, giving me ‘the finger’. The camera was looking at Paul, not me, so my seizure didn’t get caught on camera but my voice and his reaction did. It couldn’t have come out in a more public manner, right in front of I don’t know how many million people. The next day everyone was ringing the radio talk back, ‘did you see Wadey taking the mickey out of Okon?’

The game was up and I had to tell people. I’d been caught on national tellie. It was almost a relief. I’ve got nothing to hide any more. I thought ‘well stuff it. If people don’t accept it that’s their problem.’ So, suddenly I wasn’t sneaking around, taking my tablets, and saying a quiet prayer, ‘please don’t give me a seizure in the next 2 hours’. It was, ‘there you go world, take that!’

It really is horrible when you have an aura. I felt like I had a temperature; really hot and sick. There was another sensation I couldn’t describe until I went into surgery and they asked ‘is it a lonely feeling?’ That’s it, like you’re the only person left in the world. A deep emptiness inside.

I’ve had absence seizures as well, in front of teams while doing the team talk. I just disappear until someone taps me on the shoulder 30 seconds later. But mostly I was having auras and these were increasing up to four a day, plus an occasional grand mal.

Of all that though, at the top of the list, the decisive factor for me in considering the operation was spending my life without a driver’s licence. It just kills you. You ask any adult who drives if you took the keys off them, how they would cope. They’d find out very quickly life becomes almost unbearable, especially with a wife and three kids. My wife had to drive them everywhere and take me to work and back. In the end you just get embarrassed and don’t ask anyone so you’re catching trains with a bag full of soccer balls, bibs and cones. You feel useless. It overtakes everything.

I went through the tests two or three times. I had electrodes glued to my head. Then I had what looked like a lunch box but was 10 times heavier strapped on. I had to sleep with that in hospital, and what they wanted me to do was have a seizure so that they could quickly inject me with this radioactive stuff. This substance goes straight to the brain showing up where the seizure is, what it is... well, that’s my understanding.

The usual risks were there - 2 % chance of death. But even if you’re having your appendix out there’s a slight chance of death. There was a risk of going blind or paralysed down one side. People ask me, "were you nervous at all?" But, no, I just thought "thank goodness someone can do something for me, because a lot of people can’t go ahead, the risks are too great." I wasn’t in doubt at all. I thought, bring it on and quickly, so I can get my drivers licence.

Did they have the technology? Well, here I sit not having had a seizure in over 12 months. I wasn’t allowed to drive until 6 months after the operation but even that was a killer. ‘I’ve had the op, I’m walking around, just give me the keys.’ For a lot of people it’s longer. I was lucky because they found so much of the scar and cut it all out.

How has it changed my life? Well, it’s certainly taken the strain off my marriage, off my wife, off my kids, off me. I can actually do things now. Just the little things so many of us take for granted; driving the car with all your equipment.

I had some great people around me who helped me through. That’s why I talk about it whenever I can, at interviews, speaking gigs, anybody who wants to chat about it. Not a problem at all. Because sometimes the unknown can be very scary.

Since the operation, I’ve launched the Paul Wade National Soccer Schools. Our agents around the country source the grounds and the coaches to run these clinics. I coach the coaches.

ya". Or I can say in a more excitable tone ‘Steve, I’ll tell ya what, big fella, if you can get that ball in an out of those cones in 30 seconds then you’re a champion! Ready, set, g..ood day to be in Newcastle!" and they laugh their heads off. Then I’ve got them. There’s no special formula to turn a kid into the next Harry Kewell. I don’t promise anything apart from a good time. My motto is: Maximum fun, maximum participation. We have 3 programs:

· A school holiday program - whether you’ve kicked a ball around before or not

· Club training - with a team, going beyond individual technique, building players’ self-esteem and getting some team spirit happening too.

· The elite squad - you don’t have to be the next Kewell as long as you really love the game and want to spend 32 weeks being coached then you can join.

We’re recently back from a trip to the UK. The kids are still raving about it. We played 5 games and watched 5 premier league games and training sessions, including Liverpool which was a big thrill because they actually got to see Harry Kewell train. He signed everything in front of him. A few other guys signed as well but everybody wanted Harry Kewell! What an adventure for the kids and for me!