There are days you can call depression an absence of pain, an absence of anything, and others when it hurts like a stab wound, like someone is garrotting your soul. Depression was his mind’s response to just how much life hurt, dulling everything to dull the pain.
Then, midway through a two-year stint at Grenoble, club doctors prescribed 200mg of opioid painkiller tramadol before and after matches for persistent neck problems.
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“I started taking painkillers so I’d be happy and cheery, but then I’d have to take more and more to keep happy, and it just got too much. It was a problem,” Muldowney says.
A lock who looks the part, 6ft 5in and bearded with tattoos daubed up both bulbous arms, Muldowney was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) in 2021, having started the diagnostic process while at Bristol Bears. ADHD is one of a range of conditions covered by the umbrella term of neurodivergence, a difference in brain function from the wider population, estimated to affect around 15 per cent of people. Other neurodivergent conditions include autism, OCD, dyslexia and Tourette’s.
A late starter, Muldowney didn’t play professional rugby until he was 27, joining Glasgow Warriors after winning the now-defunct National Trophy with Birmingham-based Moseley. Two years at Exeter followed, before the most successful period of his career under Pat Lam at Connacht, helping the club to their first ever Pro12 win in 2016 having been named their “Team Man of the Year” in 2015.
Muldowney played for Exeter Chiefs and Bristol Bears in the Premiership (Photo: Getty)As grim as withdrawal was, Muldowney stopped taking tramadol immediately after his career ended in 2020. It transpired the trigger was rugby, underpinned by a hyper-masculine, hyper-competitive environment which all too often considered, and considers, difference to be weakness.
“Essentially, all coaches won’t care. If I’m burnt out, or struggling in the meeting, and I need time on my own or any time away, they’re not going to care.
“They’re going to drop you if you miss a training session or miss a video analysis session, it doesn’t matter why.
“Even nowadays, they won’t care. They’ll say they will. They’ll be in the papers, they’ll be tweeting, they’ll be saying all these things, trying to get brownie points. But when it comes down to the brass tacks of selection, they’re not going to care. At all.”
Muldowney’s view of rugby reflects James Haskell’s comments to The i Paper in April 2023 as he explored his own ADHD diagnosis, saying: “In rugby, the mental side is massively neglected, it’s not on most people’s radars.
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There are fundamental questions here about how Muldowney was not diagnosed earlier, why he didn’t believe he could speak to anyone about how he felt and why he is one of a handful of Premiership players to publicly reveal their neurodivergence. How he was forced to the point of a painkiller addiction, and why he says he would have retired earlier had he been diagnosed earlier.
“But then you kind of get through because I’ve got three children, a wife. You analyse it – what effect will that have on them? You might think it’s easier for you, but then you’re putting a burden on them for rest of their life, not just financially but emotionally.”
Jonny May (left) and James Haskell (right) are both neurodivergent (Photo: Getty)
Yet this cohort being so small is indicative of the wider culture of silence and ignorance around neurodiversity in men’s rugby, embedded in the prevailing fallacy of a “one size fits all” team spirit, the idea that equality comes from treating all players the same, rather than offering equal levels of individualised care and support.
What Muldowney found most difficult was the expectation to do everything as a group, to always subsume into a whole off the pitch.
“It’s just the fatigue, and I’m not talking about physically – we’re all physically tired,” he explains. “I don’t think people understand how masking affects you. You spend your life trying to fit in, not trying to be yourself, to be too much. It’s so tiring.
“I played a character that you’d be happy with and accept, then went home and was absolutely exhausted and stressed, really bad anxiety and depression.
Muldowney recently started a role as neurodiversity coach for juniors at his local club Stoke-on-Trent RUFC as he continues to navigate life post-diagnosis. He doesn’t want to coach formally, this is more about mentoring and offering an understanding sounding board.
“Recently I’ve been contemplating more how I am around other people, realising how I’ve had to play different characters all the time around people. You try and mirror personalities to fit in.
“I was taking tramadol and loads of other things to try and stay in character. It’s more about accepting myself and being myself. F**k people, basically. I’ve got no time for it anymore, it’s no good for me. It makes me poorly. I’m sick of being in pain.”
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