Kevin Sinfield, who was awarded a CBE for his services to the motor neurone disease community after his friend Burrow’s diagnosis inspired him to raise more than £10m to fund research and awareness, sent Moody a message of support and made a fresh vow to tackle the disease.
“I’m obviously very saddened by the news,” said Sinfield, who is the skills and kicking coach for the England national team. “I’d like to wish Lewis, and all his family and friends, the very best.
“I’ll support in any way I can. We have to keep fighting MND [motor neurone disease] together.”
Andrea Pinchen, CEO at Leicester Tigers where Moody made 223 appearances, winning seven English titles and two European crowns over 14 years, also paid tribute to Moody as a person, as well as a player.
“The figures, trophies and awards tell you what an incredible player Lewis was, but that is only half the story,” said Pinchen.
“One minute he’s parading around with the World Cup trophy and the following Friday he’d be in the ticket office where I worked, answering the phone to supporters if we were really busy and helping sell tickets.
“As an individual, his commitment to his club along with his warmth and passion shone through, which endeared him to team-mates, staff and supporters alike.
“Always looking to help others, Lewis together with his wife Annie have worked tirelessly through the Lewis Moody Foundation, supporting research into brain tumours and helping affected families.
“He absolutely threw himself in. It was very much lead by example. He would never ask somebody to do something he wouldn’t do himself. He is utterly fearless.”
He obtained a Jamaican passport but has not completed the requisite change of association form as he was not ready to commit to the Caribbean nation.
That frustrated Jamaica coach Steve McClaren and Tuchel has now dismissed the idea of an England return.
“I have not spoken to him until now. I have not spoken to him or his camp,” the Three Lions boss told a news conference.
“My understanding was that he tries to play for Jamaica so we didn’t give it another thought. He was not in the mix at the moment and he is not in our thoughts for our team.”
McClaren wanted to include Greenwood in his squad for their World Cup qualifiers against Bermuda and Trinidad and Tobago, but then reported “he’s not going to commit at this time to anybody”.
On Greenwood’s international future, the former England boss added: “He [Greenwood] is taking his time over that, so it’s a little bit disappointing. We probably have to be more patient.
“But we will keep the contact, we will keep pursuing him because I know from my conversations with Mason and his family that he loves Jamaica, respects Jamaica.
“He wants to concentrate on club football and not commit to an international team at the present moment. We have to respect that, however much we’ve worked hard to get him here for these camps. So, who knows in the future.”
David Greenwood adored basketball so much in middle school that he would play for three different teams in three different parks on the same day, multiple times a week.
His brother, Al, would be in the car driving around with him between games while David traded in his sweaty uniform for a fresh one, repeating the process over and over.
“He was relentless,” Al said, “because he loved the game.”
At home, David would get tossed around in driveway games by the cement contractor father who was twice his size, only to keep getting back up for more contact. In practices, he shot blindfolded to perfect his form, his brother having to let him know when he was close to going out of bounds so that he could get his bearings.
UCLA’s David Greenwood (34) shoots a basketball during a game against San Francisco at the Marriott Center in Provo, Utah, on March 15, 1979
(Peter Read Miller / Sports Illustrated via Getty Images)
Greenwood, the determined Compton kid who went from a star high school player at Verbum Dei to one of the top scorers in UCLA history to an NBA champion with the Detroit Pistons, died Sunday night at a Riverside hospital from cancer. He was 68.
True to the nature of someone who played through debilitating foot injuries throughout his career, Greenwood did not inform family of his illness until the end of his life.
“Everything happened so quickly,” said Bronson Greenwood, David’s nephew. “It was kind of a shock.”
One of the all-time great high school players in Southern California, Greenwood and teammate Roy Hamilton were among the final players recruited by legendary UCLA coach John Wooden. They were shocked when Wooden retired shortly after their senior season of high school and was replaced by Gene Bartow.
But they decided to stick with their commitments, lured in part by the pitch of a coach they would never play for in college.
“He told me if I went to USC or UNLV or Notre Dame, I’d be an All-American,” Greenwood once told The Times of Wooden’s proposal. “But if I went to UCLA, I’d be able to test myself against 12 other high school All-Americans every single day. … It was kind of like, ‘Come here and test your mettle.’ ”
Greenwood’s work ethic continued to push him as a Bruin. His practices with the team were followed by an hour in another gym, his brother feeding him passes. Along the way, he never shortchanged himself or teammates.
College athletes selected in the NBA draft pose with NBA commissioner Larry O’Brien, center, at New York’s Plaza Hotel on June 25, 1979. The players are, from left: Calvin Natt, Northeast Louisiana, drafted by New Jersey; Sidney Moncrief, Arkansas, drafted by Milwaukee; Bill Garthright, San Francisco, drafted by New York; O’Brien; Earvin Johnson, Michigan State, drafted by Los Angeles; Greg Kelser, Michigan State, drafted by Detroit; and David Greenwood, UCLA, drafted by Chicago.
(Associated Press)
“If he said he was going to shoot 100 free throws,” Al said, “it wasn’t 50, it wasn’t 65, it was 100 — and he didn’t stop until he got to 100.”
Having been dubbed “Batman and Robin” in high school, Greenwood and Hamilton remained close at UCLA, rooming together and biking to campus from where they lived in the Fairfax District. Hamilton remembered Greenwood as a remarkable rebounder who whipped outlet passes to him to get fast breaks started.
“We would always know how to motivate each other,” Hamilton said, “and connect with each other on the floor.”
Becoming a star by his sophomore season, Greenwood averaged a double-double in points and rebounds as a junior and a senior, finishing each season as an All-American. The 6-foot-9 forward’s go-to move was starting with his back about 10 to 12 feet from the basket before faking one way and unleashing a spin-around jumper.
One of his favorite memories as a Bruin, according to his brother, was a comeback against Washington State toward the end of his career in which the Bruins wiped out a late double-digit deficit, winning on Greenwood’s putback dunk only seconds before the buzzer.
The Bulls’ David Greenwood shoots over the Bullets’ Elvin Hayes during a game in 1981 at the Capital Centre in Landover, Maryland. Greenwood played for the Bulls from 1979-85.
(Focus On Sport / Getty Images)
UCLA never recaptured the Wooden glory during Greenwood’s four seasons, reaching the Final Four his freshman year and a regional final his senior year. But Greenwood remains No. 15 on the school’s all-time scoring list, having tallied 1,721 points.
After the Lakers selected Magic Johnson with the first pick of the 1979 NBA draft, the Chicago Bulls took Greenwood second as part of their massive rebuilding efforts. (Hamilton was also a lottery pick, going 10th to the Pistons.)
“He wasn’t exciting, he was steady,” Al Greenwood said of his brother. “You knew you were going to get a double-double every night out of him regardless of what the score was.”
Greenwood started every game in his first NBA season, averaging 16.3 points and 9.4 rebounds while making the all-rookie team. The Bulls went 30-52, their loss total more than triple the 17 losses that Greenwood’s teams had absorbed in four seasons as a Bruin.
But he persevered through the losing and a series of foot injuries caused by a running style in which his heels would hit the ground before his toes. Al remembered his brother coming back to Los Angeles to play the Lakers and taking his shoes off at home, saying it felt as if they were full of broken glass.
“That was how his feet felt a lot of the time, but he just played even when he shouldn’t have,” Al said. “I always called him The Thoroughbred.”
Former UCLA standout David Greenwood talks about his career during a National Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame induction event on Nov. 21, 2021, in Kansas City, Mo.
(Colin E. Braley / Associated Press)
Greenwood would undergo one Achilles’ surgery on one foot and two on the other, never missing a full season in the process.
In October 1985, before the widespread use of cell phones, Greenwood learned he had been traded to San Antonio for future Hall of Famer George Gervin while listening to the radio. Late in his 12-year NBA career, he was a surprise playoff contributor for the Detroit Pistons when they won the 1990 NBA championship. Hamilton worked for CBS Sports as part of the production team broadcasting the Finals that year.
“Having my best friend in the world on the team and winning a title,” Hamilton said, “that was a joy for me.”
Greenwood went on to own several Blockbuster video stores and coached at his alma mater, guiding Verbum Dei to state championships in 1998 and 1999. His nephew recalled a soft side, his uncle picking him up and giving him a good tickle.
Greenwood is survived by his brother, Al; sister, Laverne; son, Jemil; and daughter, Tiffany, along with his former wife, Joyce. Services are pending.
Defenders: Lucy Bronze (Chelsea), Leah Williamson (Arsenal), Jess Carter (Chelsea), Alex Greenwood (Manchester City), Lotte Wubben-Moy (Arsenal), Esme Morgan (Washington Spirit), Niamh Charles (Chelsea), Maya Le Tissier (Manchester United.
Midfielders: Ella Toone (Manchester United), Georgia Stanway (Bayern Munich), Keira Walsh (Manchester City), Grace Clinton (Manchester United), Jess Park (Manchester City).
Forwards: Lauren Hemp (Manchester City), Lauren James (Chelsea), Chloe Kelly (Arsenal on loan from Manchester City), Beth Mead (Arsenal), Michelle Agyemang (Brighton on loan from Arsenal), Alessia Russo (Arsenal), Aggie Beever-Jones (Chelsea).
TULSA, Okla. — Tulsa’s new mayor on Sunday proposed a $100 million private trust as part of a reparations plan to give descendants of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre scholarships and housing help in a city-backed bid to make amends for one of the worst racial attacks in U.S. history.
The plan by Mayor Monroe Nichols, the first Black mayor of Oklahoma’s second-largest city, would not provide direct cash payments to descendants or the last two centenarian survivors of the attack that killed as many as 300 Black people. He made the announcement at the Greenwood Cultural Center, located in the once-thriving district of North Tulsa that was destroyed by a white mob.
Nichols said he does not use the term reparations, which he calls politically charged, characterizing his sweeping plan instead as a “road to repair.”
“For 104 years, the Tulsa Race Massacre has been a stain on our city’s history,” Nichols said Sunday after receiving a standing ovation from several hundred people. “The massacre was hidden from history books, only to be followed by the intentional acts of redlining, a highway built to choke off economic vitality and the perpetual underinvestment of local, state and federal governments.
“Now it’s time to take the next big steps to restore.”
Nichols said the proposal wouldn’t require city council approval, although the council would need to authorize the transfer of any city property to the trust, something he said was highly likely.
The private charitable trust would be created with a goal to secure $105 million in assets, with most of the funding either secured or committed by June 1, 2026. Although details would be developed over the next year by an executive director and a board of managers, the plan calls for the bulk of the funding, $60 million, to go toward improving buildings and revitalizing the city’s north side.
“The Greenwood District at its height was a center of commerce,” Nichols said in a telephone interview. “So what was lost was not just something from North Tulsa or the Black community. It actually robbed Tulsa of an economic future that would have rivaled anywhere else in the world.”
Nichols’ proposal follows an executive order he signed earlier this year recognizing June 1 as Tulsa Race Massacre Observance Day, an official city holiday. Events Sunday in the Greenwood District included a picnic for families, worship services and an evening candlelight vigil.
Nichols also realizes the current national political climate, particularly President Trump’s sweeping assault on diversity, equity and inclusion programs, poses challenging political crosswinds.
“The fact that this lines up with a broader national conversation is a tough environment,” Nichols admitted, “but it doesn’t change the work we have to do.”
Jacqueline Weary, is a granddaughter of massacre survivor John R. Emerson, Sr., who owned a hotel and cab company in Greenwood that were destroyed. She acknowledged the political difficulty of giving cash payments to descendants. But at the same time, she wondered how much of her family’s wealth was lost in the violence.
“If Greenwood was still there, my grandfather would still have his hotel,” said Weary, 65. “It rightfully was our inheritance, and it was literally taken away.”
Tulsa is not the first U.S. city to explore reparations. The Chicago suburb of Evanston, Illinois, was the first U.S. city to make reparations available to its Black residents for past discrimination, offering qualifying households $25,000 for home repairs, down payments on property, and interest or late penalties on property in the city. The funding for the program came from taxes on the sale of recreational marijuana.
Other communities and organizations that have considered providing reparations range from the state of California to cities including Amherst, Massachusetts; Providence, Rhode Island; Asheville, North Carolina; and Iowa City, Iowa; religious denominations like the Episcopal Church; and prominent colleges like Georgetown University in Washington.
In Tulsa, there are only two living survivors of the Race Massacre, both of whom are 110 years old: Leslie Benningfield Randle and Viola Fletcher. The women, both of whom were in attendance on Sunday, received direct financial compensation from both a Tulsa-based nonprofit and a New York-based philanthropic organization, but have not received any recompense from the city or state.
Damario Solomon-Simmons, an attorney for the survivors and the founder of the Justice for Greenwood Foundation, said earlier this year that any reparations plan should include direct payments to Randle and Fletcher and a victims’ compensation fund for outstanding claims.
A lawsuit filed by Solomon-Simmons on behalf of the survivors was rejected by the Oklahoma Supreme Court last year, dampening racial justice advocates’ hopes that the city would ever make financial amends.
SIERRA VALLEY, Calif. — Standing among his cattle in a broad green pasture, beneath a brilliant blue sky about an hour north of Lake Tahoe, rancher Dan Greenwood surveyed the idyllic landscape and called it what he feels it has become: a death trap.
Behind him, a 3-month-old calf that had been mauled by wolves the night before lay in the grass with deep wounds on its flanks. Two of its legs were so badly injured they could barely support the calf’s weight when it tried to stand. The animal’s agitated mother paced a few feet away.
Greenwood wrapped his hand around one of the calf’s ankles and gently rolled it onto its back to inspect the savage bite wounds.
The first wild wolf monitored by scientists via an electronic collar crossed from Oregon into California in 2011. Today, there are seven established packs in the Golden State.
(Malia Byrtus / California Wolf Project/UC Berkeley)
He was trying to decide whether to give the calf another day to see if it could recover enough to keep up with its mother — or put it out of its misery before the wolves returned to finish the job.
“If I can just walk up and grab him, then so can the wolf,” Greenwood said with a pained look on his face. “That’s not a challenge for them at all.”
What is a challenge in the rugged expanse of the Sierra Valley right now is keeping up with all the calls coming in from ranchers whose cattle have been mauled by wolves. Across the valley, which straddles Sierra and Plumas counties, there have been 30 confirmed wolf attacks since March, 18 of them fatal, said Sierra County Sheriff Mike Fisher.
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That doesn’t include a deer that was attacked in a subdivision just outside the small town of Loyalton as stunned residents looked on in disbelief, or the massive, frenzied elk that was chased onto a front porch in the middle of an April night and slaughtered by two wolves. A terrified 21-year-old stood on the other side of the front door, clutching a pistol and wondering if someone was trying to break in.
Once the “ruckus” died down enough for him to open the door and peek outside, Connor Kilmurray said, he saw “blood everywhere, it was smeared on the walls and the door. … It was definitely a massacre.”
When Fisher arrived to investigate, he was relieved that the desperate elk, which weighed hundreds of pounds, hadn’t crashed straight through the front door and into the living room with two snarling wolves on its heels.
Sierra County Sheriff Mike Fisher shows where wolves slaughtered an elk late at night on the front steps of a home in Loyalton.
“If it had just been a foot over, two feet over, that would have been quite an awakening,” Fisher said.
For ranchers, the solution to the growing problem in California’s rural northern counties seems obvious: They want to shoot the wolves preying on their cattle.
But while wolf populations are large enough that hunting them is allowed in much of the American West — in Montana, Idaho and Wyoming — they are still listed as an endangered species in California. Killing a wolf here is a crime punishable by a fine of up to $100,000 and up to a year in prison.
Local authorities say there have been 30 confirmed wolf attacks on cattle in the Sierra Valley since March, 18 of them fatal.
Whether Sierra Valley ranchers would face such consequences is another question. The wolf attacks feel so out of control, said Sierra County Dist. Atty. Sandra Groven, that she would not pursue charges against a rancher who kills a wolf caught preying on cattle.
Groven cautioned that she was not giving carte blanche to poachers to engage in “outrageous conduct,” or issuing a license for anyone to “go on a killing spree.” But given the frequency of wolf attacks in the valley recently, she said, she doesn’t see how she could bring charges against one of her neighbors for defending themselves or their property.
“Bottom line, I would not prosecute,” Groven said. “What are they supposed to do? Run up and wave their arms and say, ‘Go away’?”
The struggle between ranchers and wolves is as old as herding itself, and nobody interviewed for this article wanted to repeat the sins of the past: By the early 20th century, wolves in the United States had been hunted to near extinction. Only a small pack remained in northern Minnesota when then-President Nixon signed the Endangered Species Act in 1973 and wolves were added to a list of protected animals.
With their numbers still low two decades later, government biologists reintroduced wolves from Canada to central Idaho and Yellowstone National Park. In the years since, they have prospered and slowly migrated across the West.
“We feel like our hands are tied,” rancher Dan Greenwood says of his efforts to protect his cattle from wolves. “We’re exhausted, and there’s zero help.”
(Andy Barron / For The Times)
The first wild wolf monitored by scientists via an electronic collar crossed from Oregon into California in 2011. Today, there are seven established packs in the Golden State, with an estimated population of about 70 wild wolves.
State wildlife biologists and other conservationists excited at the prospect of a wolf comeback assumed the predators would target their natural prey, mostly deer and elk. But decades of logging and climate change have vastly altered the forests and terrain in much of Northern California, leaving deer and elk in short supply. Instead, many of the wolves have taken to hunting the lumbering, docile, domesticated cattle grazing in plain sight on wide-open pastures.
When that happens, ranchers say, it’s like someone coming into your store and stealing from the shelves. Nobody pretends cattle are pets — they’re bred and raised to be slaughtered. But no business can survive for long without some way to protect the merchandise.
To defend the livestock, the state Department of Fish and Wildlife promotes non-lethal “hazing” of the predators, which can include firing guns toward the sky, driving trucks and ATVs toward wolves to try to shoo them away and harassing them with noise from drones. But according to local ranchers, none of that seems to work, at least not for long.
And that has led to near rebellion in California’s northeastern counties, including Sierra, where local authorities have declared a state of emergency and are begging state officials for permission to more aggressively “remove” problem wolves.
The reason hazing doesn’t seem to work, according to ranchers, is that the wolves appear to have no fear of humans. And the cattle, which have gone generations without having to deal with these apex predators, seem to have forgotten how to defend themselves by sticking together in herds.
Turning such naive, docile cattle loose in sprawling pastures is a little like turning “me loose in downtown L.A.,” said Cameron Krebs, a fifth-generation rancher in eastern Oregon who has been dealing with aggressive wolves for years. “I might get hurt, might run into the wrong person, might get run over by a car, just because I don’t have the sense to look both ways,” he said with a laugh.
Krebs has become something of a hero in environmental circles for his dedication to finding non-lethal ways to co-exist with wolves, which boil down to making sure the animals in his herd stick together — the way wild buffalo and elk do — so it’s harder for wolves to single out and separate one of them.
But that takes a lot of time and manpower, and there are inevitably wolves that outwit even the most well-intentioned efforts. “At that point, you need to be able to shoot them,” Krebs said. “It’s just one of the tools in the toolbox.”
UC Davis researchers Tina Saitone, left, and Ken Tate mount a camera to capture wolf activity.
A camera attached to a fence port monitors wolf activity.
Back in the Sierra Valley, Greenwood said he saw his first wolf in 2018, from his living room window, standing over a calf it had just killed. “It was just taunting me,” Greenwood said in disbelief.
But things didn’t get really bad until 2022, when he lost nearly two dozen animals to the increasingly brazen wolves. Since then, he said, he has been fighting an exhausting, losing battle.
“I felt really, really bad as we were shipping cows in here in May,” Greenwood said, standing in an immense pasture on a portion of his ranch in nearby Red Clover Valley. “It’s beautiful up here; there’s plenty of grass growing. Everything’s right for them, except there’s wolves circling in the hills just waiting for those trucks to get here.”
He’s versed in the non-lethal techniques promoted by environmental advocates and embraced by the Department of Fish and Wildlife, but his shoulders slumped and his eyes searched the horizon as he explained how impractical they seem to him now.
“Profit margins are so, so thin,” he said, noting that some people seem to think all ranchers are as rich as Kevin Costner’s character on “Yellowstone.” But his reality is nothing like TV.
“It’s just me and another guy running 1,200 acres of irrigated hay and 600 cows,” Greenwood said. “I could maybe get all of these cows into a corral at night if I had six guys on horses helping me,” but there’s no money for that.
“We feel like our hands are tied. We’re exhausted, and there’s zero help,” Greenwood said.
UC Davis researcher Ken Tate points to wolf fur caught on a barbed-wire fence.
In 2021, the state set up a $3-million pilot project to reimburse ranchers for cattle lost to wolves and help pay for non-lethal deterrents, such as flags tied to electrified fences and lights affixed to fence posts.
But Greenwood said by the time he finished filling out all the paperwork for the cattle he lost in 2022, the state money had run out. “I still haven’t seen a dime,” he said.
Arthur Middleton, a professor of wildlife management working with UC Berkeley’s California Wolf Project, said he’s been taken aback by how bold the wolves are becoming in the Sierra Valley.
In April, while a TV news crew from Sacramento was filming an interview with the sheriff in a cattle pasture, two gray wolves appeared in the background stalking the livestock, Middleton recounted. The sight of them so close to the road in broad daylight, with a noisy news crew filming nearby, was like nothing he has witnessed in many years of working on wolf recovery.
“That just goes to show what an incredible challenge ranchers and wildlife managers have on their hands,” Middleton said.
For many Sierra Valley residents, the question is no longer whether problem wolves are going to be forcefully removed, it’s who is going to do it. Pissed-off ranchers? Or environmental professionals working with an eye to eliminate the most prolific cattle killers while preserving the rest of the pack?
There’s a joke circulating in the valley this spring: “Shoot, shovel and shut up,” Groven said. She added that she doesn’t think any of the ranchers have followed through on the implied threat, but said it would be hard to blame them if they did.
Fisher, the sheriff, said he would like the authority to shoot a wolf he believes poses a risk to human safety — like the pair that chased the elk onto someone’s front porch. But he thinks the Department of Fish and Wildlife should be responsible for “removing” wolves that habitually attack cattle.
“They’re very patient,” rancher Dan Greenwood says of using non-lethal methods to scare off wolves. “They just outlast you.”
Greenwood said he’s not advocating for the elimination of the wolves. He just wants to be able to protect his livestock.
He saw the wolves moving among his cattle the night the 3-month-old calf was mauled and another one was killed. Following the law, he kept his hands off his gun and revved up his ATV, chasing the predators more than a mile away, hoping that was far enough to keep the cattle safe.
It wasn’t. “They’re very patient,” Greenwood said. “They just outlast you.”
The 3-month-old calf? It died of its wounds before the wolves could return.
