Interview: Chris Cusiter

Cusiter spoke in midweek of the trials of serious injury and the difficult times that brought, but in an exclusive interview with The Scotsman, the scrum-half has opened his heart on the real torment of the past year that has come from losing his father at the age of 58 to prostate cancer.

A fractured kneecap has kept the 29-year-old Aberdonian out of the international arena since March, 2010, replacing the excitement of matches with a year and more of rehabilitation and frustration. But, at the same time, he had a very different and deeper pain to endure.

Cusiter’s father Stan died on 22 July, 2010, ending a battle with prostate cancer that had begun six years before. Suddenly, rugby, not to mention life, lost its lustre for Cusiter.

He is now supporting the Prostate Cancer Charity, and a special bike ride on 4 September to raise funds when he hopes to be in the southern hemisphere preparing for Scotland’s World Cup campaign.

But starting against Italy as a replacement, the former Scotland captain has to get through today first, physically and mentally, and he admitted that it will be a challenge of an intensity he has never faced before.

“Fitness-wise I am great and feeling good,” he said, “and so, from that perspective, I am really looking forward to getting onto Murrayfield at some point and putting the last 16 months or whatever behind me and proving that I deserve a place on the plane to New Zealand.

“But, the other part, going out there for the first time without Dad in the stands, is another challenge altogether. It’s going to be tough.”

That will be a new experience, but playing with the spectre of prostate cancer in the background will not. It has been with the family almost from the first day he pulled on a Scotland jersey, not that his parents allowed it ever to take centre stage. “Dad got diagnosed in 2004, about the time I was winning my first cap,” he recalled. “It was against Wales. The whole family came down, and for him and Mum to watch that game at the Millennium Stadium was just great. It was around then, I think just after, that he found out about the cancer, but I didn’t know anything about it then.

“He and Mum used to come and watch me playing for the Borders. They’d travel down from Aberdeen and stay overnight in a B&B in Galashiels, and travel back up the next day or go and watch my brother playing for Boroughmuir, and [my father] would get all sorts of treatment, which seemed to keep it at bay.

“He was a great influence on me and my brother, and on my career, which is what is hard now. I remember sitting having a beer with him after a game in Ireland, and him coming to Paris. I just loved being able to talk to him about the game. I could see that he was proud, and I really liked that.

“If I ever had any big decisions to make around rugby, or just to talk about a game, something going wrong or having a bad game, or a big decision to make regarding contracts, I always had him to phone up and get his opinion. I think that’s the hardest thing now, that I can’t do that.

“Obviously, Mum is there and she is fantastic, but I do miss Dad and being able to phone him up and see what he thinks. He had so much common sense, was so down to earth, so not having that there is hard.”

It is a difficult interview. Cusiter’s emotions remain raw, the tears well up and the player who was instantly identified by Andy Robinson, on becoming Scotland head coach, as the rock around which he wanted to build his team searches for words to describe the loss.

Those who have suffered similarly will know that there are, in fact, no words to come near to quantifying the scale of loss and pain, nor a guidebook on how to cope thereafter. There is, however, a cathartic sense in talking about the person, and Cusiter feels that as we talk.

“Dad was probably the main reason we played rugby. He went to the same school as I did, played rugby there, and went on to play for Gordonians and North and Midlands, and growing up we were always aware of his passion for rugby. He was always going to Murrayfield with his friends to watch Scotland, or going to Gordonians and we’d go along as kids to watch with him

“He was always pushing us in that direction. I went from a primary school playing and loving football, and supporting the Dons, to going to Robert Gordon’s and taking up rugby. He never said we were to play rugby, but I suppose there was gentle nudging. I remember when I played my first game of rugby he bought me a rugby ball and I was just so chuffed with it. I never looked back.”

Stan Cusiter was never happier than when watching his sons Chris and Calum – who had a brief flirt with the pro game and captained the Scotland Club International side – in the midst of the action, their terrier-like battling qualities causing mayhem for opponents. Stan was a stand-off, the boys scrum-halves, but Chris acknowledges that there has been a positive passing of traits, whether genetically or through teaching.

“Dad came from a very working-class background and grafted his way to get into private school. His mum and dad could barely afford the books and uniform, and once he got there his work ethic was unbelievable. To go on from school to Aberdeen University and then become a lawyer was a huge thing for him and his family. So I hope I have picked up on his work ethic.

“He was working right up to his last day. Even though he was terminally ill he refused to stop working and went into the office every day. It was quite sudden in the end. He had an accident in the office which accelerated things a little bit, but doctors couldn’t believe that he was working, and that summed him up.

“He just wanted to get on with things, didn’t particularly want to talk about it. From about two or three years ago, the talk turned to ‘containing’ the disease from ‘curing’ it and so you sort of knew then that he wasn’t going to get better. I think he knew that he wasn’t getting better so he and Mum tried to do as many nice things as they could, going on short breaks around Scotland, or whatever.

“One thing that I sort of, I don’t know, I’m not sure why… but I went away on holiday with my girlfriend Sarah last summer and then changed my flight to come back early. I spoke to Mum on the phone and went back four days early, and left Sarah with her parents in Singapore. My brother came up with his wife on the Saturday and we had a really nice meal with Mum and Dad, drinking wine, that he loved, and it was on the Monday that he died.

“So I was so happy that I came back early because we got the chance to spend that last time together, but I don’t know what it was that made me come back. It was a strange thing.

“Obviously, he had been ill for a long time, but he was OK, still functioning and working as a lawyer, and never bed- ridden. My brother and I went out to Royal Aberdeen a couple of weeks before that and had lunch together, and we helped him clear out his locker and that was really, really sad, because he knew he wouldn’t be fit enough to play golf again, but you didn’t think that a few weeks later he’d be gone.”

Cusiter had returned from playing for Perpignan in France the summer before, he reveals now, to be closer to his father – and he was to enjoy his best season in rugby so far, helping Glasgow to the Magners League semi-finals, taking over as Scotland captain and leading them to victory over Australia before ending the season with an historic win over Ireland at Croke Park in Dublin. As good as that felt, and as delighted as it made his family and the nation, it was a darkening time for Cusiter, who began to realise where his father’s illness was heading.

“I didn’t know the little time we had, but I’m glad that I came back from France because being in Glasgow I was able to get up to Aberdeen regularly, and so we saw a lot more of each other.

“When I was named captain of Scotland for the November games Dad was very, very ill, though Mum didn’t say too much at the time because she wanted everything to be normal for me for the game [against Fiji]. I think Dad was struggling to make it down for the game, but he was determined to and he made it, and I really, really loved the fact that he was there, and when I ran out he was there in the stadium.

“But seeing him after the game was hard because I saw that he wasn’t well and that it had been a real struggle for him to be there, physically. Mum was under a huge amount of stress, I think, because he was determined to always make it to Murrayfield or to get to Glasgow and see me, but he wasn’t great and physically, to make a two or three-hour car journey, was a big ask and it was really tough on Mum.

“It was a great day to captain my country and have Mum and Dad there but, at the same time, it was really sad to see him after the game and how ill he was. It really struck home then. Having been in France I probably wasn’t as aware – he made it out there a couple of times and had a great time – but it was in the last 12 months he began to deteriorate.”

Courage is an attribute crucial in rugby players, especially for regular underdogs such as Scotland’s, with 19 and 20-stone monoliths no longer lumbering but – with professionalism and serious fitness regimes – sprinting towards you.

Yet, it remains a fact that fit and healthy men remain among the most likely to hide from medical concerns. Having witnessed the devastation that prostate cancer can bring, Cusiter has joined the campaign, urging men to be braver and act quicker, and is hopeful that talking about his experiences might persuade even one reader who might be going to the toilet quite a bit to consult his GP.

“The breast cancer charities have done a fantastic job of raising awareness [of that illness] and prostate cancer is almost a male equivalent, so people should be aware of the disease, symptoms and be able to speak to GP and ask for a biopsy or blood test to be taken. It’s a simple thing that can be done and the earlier it’s detected, the higher chance there is of a cure.

“Dad went through all sorts of treatment and I saw the suffering he had to go through, from the operations to radiotherapy, hormone treatment to chemotherapy, and you never know but if things had been caught a little bit earlier, perhaps there would have been a chance of his quality of life being higher and him living for longer.

“That’s the key thing – early detection and being aware of symptoms, simple things such as you needing to go to the toilet more than normal.

“If someone feels there might be something wrong, go and speak to your GP. Don’t leave it for a year or two to see what happens – go and speak to your GP.”

Cusiter has always displayed a great tenacity in his approach to the game and courage is a trait coaches have long picked out when commenting on him. He has needed it. That memory of Dublin 17 months ago is great, but it is the last he has to cling on to because of a serious knee injury that took five months to properly diagnose, and so left him with just three games at the end of last season, and battling to make the World Cup.

He played second fiddle to Mike Blair in the 2007 tournament, took over as first choice in 2009, and now is vying with Blair and Rory Lawson for the No 9 jersey, with no obvious front-runner. Lawson himself has coped with the death of a grandfather he was very close to last year, the legendary Bill McLaren, and as we conclude, Cusiter is quick to add that in many ways he is lucky; that others suffer worse experiences than he.

That is true, but it does not alter what he has been through, and the moral fibre he has had to find to battle back to this point, ready to push again for his place in the Scotland team. Dealing with bereavement, a career stalling and rugby hopes seemingly drifting away took its toll, and he admits it has changed his take on rugby and life.

“Being injured for nearly all of last season obviously wasn’t great professionally, but with what had happened with Dad as well, I just found it really hard at times to be positive about anything.

“Rugby wasn’t happening, Dad had died and it only really sunk in… I don’t know when. Everyone was still very much in shock afterwards and through the funeral, but then it gradually sinks in that Dad has died. I’d be fine for a couple of days and then all of a sudden I’d get really, really down, miss him, and get really upset. “It has definitely changed my viewpoint about life, and rugby. He was 58 when he died, just 51 or 52 when he was diagnosed, and it’s definitely changed my view on what’s important.

“In professional sport everybody has to be quite selfish in many ways and you have to put yourself first, and then when something like that happens you understand that life is pretty fragile, and there are bigger issues than worrying about getting the right rest or every little bit of prep for a game. Of course, those things are still important, but my view on how important they are has changed a bit.”

To put that into context for less avid rugby followers, Cusiter has always been an insatiably ambitious, focused individual, learning from Sean Lineen, Gary Armstrong, Alan Tait and Tony Gilbert, among others; straight-talking, honest individuals never scared to tell him when he was failing. Looking forward, Cusiter is hopeful, however, that his recent experiences can help him.

“I definitely think I’ve grown up a lot in the past year and if I have become more mature I hope that that will help in dealing with the ups and downs of rugby. It is only a game but at our level it becomes very, very serious and to play in this environment and to deal with the pressure and be able to perform, you have to take it seriously and put yourself under pressure.

“But when I was 21 or 22 and starting out in rugby it was absolutely everything to me, and I would have done anything to play, and would have been very selfish about things to get where I wanted to get to. I think what has happened with Dad has just put things into perspective.

“I still think you need a good support network around you and not having Dad as part of that any more will be tough for me and I will definitely need other people I can speak to about things and run things by.”

The future begins today, with Cusiter in the Scotland kit that made his father proud, only with Stan this time looking down from above and not sitting in the stands.

“I think about him a lot – every day – and Saturday will be an emotional occasion,” Cusiter added. “It is a warm-up game but it’s a big thing. A big part of Dad’s life was coming to watch international games at Murrayfield. Mum is coming down and my brother is coming, which is great, but it will be sad not having Dad there.

“I suppose that’s part of moving on, part of growing up and getting on with things, but it won’t be easy. I don’t really know what it will feel like to be honest. I played a few club games at the end of last season, but it will be a bit different on Saturday.

“I’m very fortunate to have this opportunity to try and make the squad, and I’m very, very optimistic just now about things; really positive about rugby and I’m excited about this game and giving my best shot at making the squad and playing in the World Cup.

“I am definitely determined to still make him proud. I’m not a religious person at all, but I suppose in a spiritual sort of way I’d like to think that he is watching and that me, my brother and my mum will still make him proud. So I’ll try and carry myself that way, play my rugby that way and keep on playing with the same passion I’ve always had.”