Sir Kevin Sinfield was overcome with emotion as he remembered the final time he saw his close friend and former Leeds Rhinos colleague Rob Burrow prior to his death. Burrow died in June 2024 at the age of 41 following his motor neurone disease (MND) diagnosis in 2019.
Medical professionals initially suggested he might have just 12 months remaining, yet the rugby league legend exceeded all expectations and became an inspiration to countless individuals before his death three-and-a-half years later.
Fundraising legacy
Burrow contributed to raising millions of pounds for MND charities working alongside Sinfield, who has pledged to continue fundraising until a treatment for the catastrophic life-limiting illness is discovered.
The 46-year-old has subsequently undertaken a succession of gruelling ultramarathon endeavours, generating over £11 million for research and assistance for those affected by MND. He has now embarked upon the final edition of his seven-in-seven challenge, during which he will attempt to finish seven ultramarathons across seven consecutive days in tribute to Burrow.
Final moments recalled
Ahead of his latest remarkable challenge, Sinfield, who received a knighthood this year, featured on The High Performance Podcast to discuss recollections of his departed friend and explain precisely why he remains so committed to raising maximum funds and awareness.
During the conversation with podcast co-host Damian Hughes, the Leeds Rhinos legend was visibly emotional as he spoke candidly about the final moments he shared with Burrow before his passing.
"The last day I saw him was the day before he passed and it was tough," he recalled. "I was in an England rugby camp and got the message. I knew all week he'd been poorly and got the message he was close."
"So I got back up north and went to see him. And as I looked through the little window to his private room he was fast asleep with breathing apparatus on."
"Anyway I crept in and saw his mum and his sister and I sat with him and he woke up. So I did what I normally did: I tried to make him laugh and told him what I was up to. It was really sad. Sad, but beautiful."
A smile to the end
"We both knew it was the last time. I knew, I was pretty sure and I'm pretty sure he did too. The minute he opened his eyes he had the biggest smile. I always got a smile regardless of what was going on."
"It was his way of saying that everything's alright and no matter what's going on in life, what's weighing heavy on you, what you're mulling over, it doesn't matter."
"It was his way of saying to just get on with living and loving and taking some risks. In the final interaction I kissed his forehead and told him I loved him."
Recalling the moment he walked out of the room for the very last time, a visibly emotional Sinfield struggled to hold back tears, pausing to compose himself. He said: "As I was leaving, I looked back one last time and he was looking back at me with a smile, which was what he always did."
"Throughout all that time he couldn't speak he would always smile at the start and smile when I left. Even his most difficult moments when I'm sure he knew, he still found the energy for a smile."
"I only saw him upset twice, when he was first diagnosed. After that he was so positive about life."
