Racism, deep depression, out-of-control benders and a warning from a doctor that he could die from drug use: Sonny Bill Williams has waited 13 years to tell the true story behind his infamous walkout on the Bulldogs in a book that finally provides some perspective on why he felt he had to get away from the toxic culture of the NRL.
Only those close to Williams at the time knew of his pain and how his life was spiralling out of control, and they were sworn to secrecy.
However, Williams is finally telling all in a stunningly honest book,
Sonny Bill Williams: You Can’t Stop the Sun from Shining, which lifts the lid on the pressures placed on young sportsmen and what he sees as the lack of care offered by some professional sporting clubs that don’t do enough to look after young men with self-esteem issues; young men who turn to a cocktail of cocaine, alcohol and painkillers to mask their distress and shyness.
Williams was a supreme sportsman: a dual international in league and union, a national boxing champion and an Olympian in rugby sevens. He didn’t need a hook for his book to be a bestseller, given his amazing record, but his story is full of hard truths that sporting teams, sportspeople and fans can learn from. All this from a young man whose only ambition was to buy his mum a house that had wallpaper.
The beginning
The book gives people an understanding of Williams and his character. At his core is a man whose hulking physical presence hides a shyness. He explains in the book that it was in his blood.
“I had low self-esteem, what I think of as an Islander mentality, which came from all I’ve ever seen. All my father had ever seen,” Williams writes.
He struggled with the idea of having to accept his lot in life.
“If you are dealing with a lack of self-belief that is exacerbated by the education system, higher levels of poverty and systemic racism against people of colour, then your outlook can be a negative one,” he writes.
Even the tattoo on his right arm – an imposing sight to most – is a mask.
“I got my right arm tattooed when I was 14,” he writes. “It was to identify as Samoan, but it had a deeper meaning to it; it was to show my individuality. But my need for that said a lot about my insecurities. My sense of not feeling good enough. Even though, from the outside looking in, people will have perhaps been thinking, he’s a cool cat ... it was more about putting ... a plaster over the internal bleeding of not truly loving myself.”
In the public eye
I was there in 2005 the day Williams was made to front the cameras after he was caught drink-driving. He could barely whisper a word. The public apology and a course of some description were supposed to fix everything.
I remember questioning at the time if it was the right way to handle things. In the book, Sonny deals with this episode and articulates his struggles when it comes to being a role model.
“Suddenly, I was a public figure,” he writes. “How is a shy boy supposed to cope with that? That’s not in the script either. And I had no one to guide me. So I found my own ways to deal with it. By having a smoke before I went out or a couple of sleeping tablets to relax me. I was trying to take the fear away.”
Williams didn’t think about the consequences. There were times after a night out when he would lose track of everything he had done and wake up in strangers’ homes sleeping on their floor. It’s lucky those things were never publicised. And that’s just the small stuff. The consequences could have ended his career or even been fatal. Williams recalls a particular weekend of partying that was life- and career-defining.
“One time I went on a bender that lasted from Friday night to Monday morning,” he writes. “The only reason I came home is I knew I had a surgery appointment at 11am. I don’t remember anything about the operations except waking up having my girlfriend crying next to the bed and the doc really gave it to me, telling me I had so many drugs in my system I could have died.”
It’s not easy for Williams to open up in the book. But his intentions are honourable: he wants to be a role model. He feels it is very important to be honest. He wants younger people to take notice of his mistakes and avoid making the same ones. It’s why he has the respect of so many in the sporting world.
Becoming a Muslim
It’s a story I know well; I lived it as it was happening. By this time in his life, I was beginning to get to know Williams. His manager, Khoder Nasser, introduced us and we would talk at Boxa Bar. I had seen Anthony Mundine find a new path as a Muslim. I saw the difficulties he encountered and watched the genuine change in Williams as he completely transformed his life.
“I turned up to training one day and the coach said to me, ‘You aren’t turning Muslim are you?’,” Williams writes. “I tried to laugh it off, but then the comments were made about my friends.”
To say this was a difficult topic to talk about with Williams or Nasser at the time is an understatement. I remember the anger in Williams’ face. He had tried to dismiss it, to laugh it off, but he was forming a new group of friends. He was loyal to that group and they were loyal to him. I remember him questioning why it was anyone’s business.
“No one had paid attention to my private life before then,” he writes. “No one cared. When I was drinking or partying hard, as long as I was always doing what they needed on the field, and it didn’t make the press. And even then, it was all about damage control, not about my wellbeing. Suddenly, my private life was concerning because of my religion.”
The Bulldogs exit
It was one of the most memorable stories I’ve covered. I’ll never forget being on a Sunday panel show on Channel Nine knowing exactly why Williams was going to quit but being sworn to secrecy by those who told me. His anger had been there for a while.
What came next should not have been a surprise. I interviewed Sonny in Newtown, where he went on the record saying he wanted to be an All Black. This was a big statement from a humble, shy young league player. He was ready to erupt. Everyone assumed his issue with the Bulldogs was money. That was only a small part of the problem.
It was well known I was close to Williams, but I copped criticism for saying: “He just had to go.”
It was difficult, but I was also about to hop on a plane to France to cover his escape and try to land the interview. I had known for some time it was on the cards, but had to wait for it to happen.
“I thought, I’ve got to get out of here, make a complete break,” Williams writes.
By now, Nasser was his agent – and so much more. The league community and, more specifically, the Bulldogs were on edge.
“People were starting to talk about the fact that I was keeping company with Muslims, asking why I was hanging out with ‘those kinds of people’,” he writes. “‘Those’ as in Muslims. This just brought out the steel in me and raised my hackles. I needed to change for my own happiness, contentment, and to find inner peace, rather than blocking out all that need in the noise of partying.”
Williams knew his departure from the Bulldogs would create a storm of controversy. No one outside of his inner circle knew what he was going through.
As a 22-year-old, he felt he had no alternative but to run away. He didn’t have the confidence to explain himself publicly.
“I was overwhelmed, but didn’t even understand myself why I had lost my way so badly,” he writes. “So I had no idea how to explain it to the media, the faithful Bulldogs fans and coaches and team support staff.”
Racism, deep depression and a warning from a doctor he could die from drug use: Sonny Bill Williams has waited 13 years to tell the true story behind his walkout on the Bulldogs.
www.smh.com.au
We don't have to buy his book. It's all covered above. I think my cut & paste function is having a rest.
