Dean Windass is fighting dementia and a heartbreaking family silence

A Wembley Homecoming Shadowed by a Silent Crisis

Hull City return to Wembley today for the Championship play-off final against Middlesbrough, eighteen years after Dean Windass fired them into the top flight with a legendary volley. But while the fans sing his name, the 57-year-old club icon is fighting a brutal, quiet battle against stage two dementia. The contrast is stark, painful, and deeply uncomfortable for English football.

The diagnosis was made public in January 2025 by former Manchester United defender David May on BBC Breakfast. Windass gave his full permission, hoping to shed light on a creeping epidemic. But as The Mirror reported, the medical crisis triggered a devastating personal cost.

The former Hull striker is currently completely estranged from his two sons, including Wrexham star striker Josh Windass. This represents the harsh reality of the modern game's historical neglect. While clubs celebrate massive commercial windfalls, the men who built their legends are too often left to decay.

Windass was a player defined by his rugged physicality, a cult hero who played until he was 39 years old. Now, he faces a future of terrifying cognitive decline. He spends his days pleading for a phone call from his own children.

The Cruel Legacy of the Training Ground

The diagnosis did not happen by accident. Windass was persuaded to undergo a brain scan by John Stiles, the son of 1966 England World Cup hero Nobby Stiles. John is an active campaigner with Football Families for Justice, a group fighting for former players left derelict by the sport's governing bodies.

Nobby Stiles died in 2020 after a long battle with dementia. The devastating disease also claimed his World Cup teammates Jack Charlton and Martin Peters. Their suffering sparked an urgent campaign for systemic change.

Windass does not blame matchdays for his condition. Instead, he points the finger directly at the daily repetition of training-ground routines. The endless crossing and finishing drills are the real culprits in this crisis.

Players spent decades heading heavy, wet leather balls hundreds of times a week. They did this without a single thought for their long-term health. The physical damage accumulated slowly over thousands of repetitions.

"When I got the diagnosis, they asked me how many footballs I headed. It's not the fact of matchday, it was those crossing and finishing drills every day. Or for centre-halves, heading it as far as they could."

The science is no longer up for debate. The landmark 2019 FIELD study by the University of Glasgow proved that former professional players are three-and-a-half times more likely to die from brain diseases than the general public. Yet, the footballing establishment was incredibly slow to react to this growing evidence.

For decades, players were told to get up, shake off head collisions, and carry on. In response to public pressure, the FA eventually introduced guidelines recommending a maximum of 10 high-force headers per week in training for professional players. But critics argue these guidelines are virtually toothless.

There is no independent body monitoring daily training sessions at clubs. In the high-stakes environment of professional football, managers prioritize immediate results over long-term player health. This lack of oversight represents a dangerous blind spot in the modern game.

Windass is demanding immediate and drastic action to stop the damage at source. He wants heading drills severely restricted, if not banned entirely, during weekly training sessions. For him, the survival of the sport depends on protecting players from their own enthusiasm.

He admits he thought nothing of doing extra finishing sessions after training. That old-school work ethic likely sealed his medical fate. It is a tragic irony that his dedication to the craft has led to this diagnosis.

A Family Broken by a Hidden Diagnosis

While the physical decline is terrifying, the emotional fallout has been swift and brutal. Windass has revealed he is no longer in contact with either of his sons. The root cause of the estrangement was his decision to keep his stage two diagnosis a secret.

He wanted to shield his children from the worry, but the silence backfired spectacularly. It created a massive rift that has yet to heal. Now, he faces this medical battle in painful isolation.

Desperate to heal the breach, Windass took the highly unusual step of making a public appeal on social media. He posted a message on Twitter begging Wrexham forward Josh to get in touch. The post exploded online, drawing over 1.5 million views as fans watched a father's desperation play out in real time.

Josh, who had recently moved to Wrexham, was not answering his phone. This left his father completely in the dark about his life and whereabouts. The public appeal was a last-resort effort to break the silence.

"I don't speak to my two kids now, but probably because it's my own fault as well... not telling them about the diagnosis because I didn't want to worry them. Josh is in the public eye. I was trying to do the right thing but then it's backfired on me and it's breaking my heart."

This public appeal remains a highly controversial decision. While it highlights Dean's desperation, it also thrust his son into an intense, unwanted media spotlight. Josh Windass was trying to navigate a high-pressure maiden season at Wrexham under Phil Parkinson.

He signed for Wrexham last summer and performed brilliantly on the pitch. He scored 15 goals in 41 league appearances. Yet, behind the goals and the promotion chase, Josh was carrying the immense weight of his father's public decay.

The pressure of playing professional football is high enough without having your family's deepest medical wounds laid bare. Dean's younger son has also cut contact over other unresolved disputes, leaving the Hull legend isolated. He has not seen his young granddaughter in over a year, a fact that he admits is killing him.

The Institutional Blind Spot

The tragedy of the Windass family is not an isolated incident. It is a recurring pattern across the British game. The Professional Footballers' Association and the FA have repeatedly faced accusations of dragging their feet when it comes to supporting former players.

Families are routinely left to navigate complex, expensive care systems completely alone. Campaign groups like Football Families for Justice have consistently argued that the game's massive television revenues should be utilized to fund specialized care. Retired players deserve far better than the current neglect.

Instead, the sport remains obsessed with the present, pouring billions into transfer fees and player wages. It turns a blind eye to its historical victims. Dean Windass' plight is a stark reminder of this deep institutional failure.

As the referee blows the whistle at Wembley today, the fans will roar for the current crop of Hull players. They will chase the dream that Dean Windass realized in 2008. But the man who wrote that history will be watching from a distance, fighting a disease that is slowly stealing his memories, and waiting for a phone call that may never come.