It was only after he watched Concussion in 2015, in which Will Smith plays a doctor attempting to convince players, officials and the public about the lasting danger of head collisions in NFL, that Donovan realised his father had been exhibiting almost identical symptoms: forgetfulness; impulsiveness; incoherency; and sudden, unexplained eruptions of anger. The film explains how chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) wreaks havoc in four increasingly severe stages, like a slow burn on the brain that manifests over time. It can be indiscriminate and often go undetected until later life when cognitive and memory issues advance into dementia. A few weeks before his arrest, Donald celebrated his 60th birthday.

Despite the inherent dangers of boxing, the historical research into CTE remains limited. It was first observed in a medical study in 1928, when it was more crudely known as “punch drunk syndrome”, owing to the slurring that would invade the minds and mouths of those it inflicted. Even as high-profile examples became more common, with Joe Louis’ troubled breakdown foreshadowing Muhammad Ali’s physical decline, there were still only 50 confirmed cases of CTE reported in the 20th Century.

There has been a silent complicity within boxing that’s delayed deeper investigation. Fighters are treated as independent contractors and, in spite of any moral obligation, it’s not in the interest of promoters to cast a distressing light on the sport that sustains them. It’s a grave truth that explains how so many boxers, just like Curry, are left in the shade as their families and friends search for answers.

Dr Ann McKee’s research into neurodegenerative disease has formed the main body of knowledge on CTE. From a specialist facility at Boston University, she has identified over 450 cases - around 70% of those recorded anywhere in the world - in the last fifteen years, with a particular focus on former NFL players and boxers. McKee’s index case was Paul Pender, a former middleweight champion, who started exhibiting the symptoms of CTE two decades after he retired in a sequence of atrophy that closely mirrors Donald’s.

“Cognitive issues like forgetfulness; memory loss; and difficulty with organisation that present in middle-age are a very common onset to the disease,” McKee says. “Then, it’s common to develop behavioural abnormalities. They can be violence; a short fuse; anxiety; depression; and suicidal thoughts. It can involve motor symptoms in some people like Parkinson’s; rigidity; or difficulty walking. It’s a progressive disease, that can start even a decade before you see the symptoms, and then accelerates as a person ages.

“It’s very common for people to behave in ways that make them unlikeable or hard to live with because they become irrational and act out. The smallest infraction can make them fly off the handle and have explosive or erratic actions. But the thing that can help families to understand it is that it’s the disease making them this way, it’s controlling their mind and their behaviour, it’s not really them.”

There has been a significant development in scientific research over the last five years. McKee can now use brain scans, imaging and blood tests to better detect CTE while a patient is still alive, even if the diagnosis can never be definitive. There is no treatment that can halt the disease, but medication can be used to ease the severity of symptoms. Yet, the fact remains that countless boxers “are still going to fall through the cracks”.

“They’re a very vulnerable population,” McKee says. “This disease makes it hard to hold onto a job, a marriage or a family. I have the feeling there are a lot more people with this disease than we’re aware of because they don’t have an advocate to get them the healthcare and attention they need.”

There is now at least a willingness from within boxing’s often Machiavellian hierarchy to address CTE and support those who are suffering. Since the ‘80s, championship fights have been reduced from fifteen to twelve rounds and weigh-ins now occur on the eve of a bout, as opposed to the same day, meaning boxers are less likely to enter the ring with extreme dehydration. There are tighter regulations on the padding in gloves and referees are less reluctant to step in and stop a one-sided bout. Medical examinations are far more scrutinising so neurological risk factors are more likely to be discovered. They are vital evolutions, even if their pace has lagged lamentably behind.

After seeing Donovan’s post on Twitter, the World Boxing Council (WBC), one of the sport’s four recognised governing bodies, has attempted to offer their own resources, too. Earlier this year, the organisation partnered with Wesana Health to investigate new medications for those affected by CTE. They have also been in contact with the Cleveland Clinic in an effort to help get Donald a brain scan. “I believe the protocol we are instituting with Wesana can be something of great importance, for prevention, detection and also treatment,” says Mauricio Sulaimán, the WBC’s president.

“My father always wanted to have something to be of aid to the former champions who fall on hard times. Before he passed away, he was fortunate to create the Nevada Community Foundation and this money is used to help situations like Donald Curry for treatment, housing, medicine and for food. We are in the process of finishing the application to have funds for him to help treat him and this case will certainly be approved.”


In time, boxers will see the benefit, and the WBC should be praised for making a concerted effort to be part of the solution. That it is even necessary to do so illustrates quite how far boxing still has to go, and in some senses, for Donald, the help is already too late. “He still thinks he can overcome it,” says O’Neal. “He told the lawyer in my office that he’d already had a CTE scan two years ago but I don’t believe that.”

After watching Curry’s words fail him at the hall of fame in 2019, Donovan did gently confront his father at the airport on their way home and attempt to persuade him to get a scan. “He said he’d do it, but then he said he’s good,” Donovan says. “It’s hard to get someone to do that when they think everything is fine.”

The cycle stayed intact then and is no easier to break now. Boxing gave Curry everything at once, but it has spent the last two decades taking it back piece-by-piece: the memories stolen; the relationships ruined; the time lost in a ceaseless battle against an opponent that cannot be beaten. This has been the longest fight of Donald Curry’s life, and the greatest tragedy of all is that the odds have always been fixed against him.