Defying the Enemy Within

by Joe Williams

  When I called my mother to tell her I’d signed with the Rabbitohs, she burst into tears of joy. Mum had been an avid Souths fan since she was a young girl and had dreamed that one day she’d get to see me run out in the famous red and green South Sydney colours.

  I’d signed with Souths to show I was still keen to be an NRL player, but the money wasn’t great, so the pre-season was tough. As a result, I had to make a living like many league players did, working long hours labouring on a construction site doing hard physical work. Afterwards, I’d go to football training then get some sleep and do it all over again.

  To make matters worse, I broke my thumb in the opening trial game and had to have surgery on it, causing me to miss the first six weeks of the season. That was really tough, but it made me realise I’d have to work much harder to even be picked for the reserve-grade team. Competition is always tough for the halfback position, so I needed to not only train hard to improve the physical aspect of my game but also to build up my mental toughness.

  I started to do extras with my fitness and general game skills. I was no longer drinking so much or partying hard, as I didn’t have much money. After a few weeks of putting a huge effort into training and committing myself both physically and mentally, I was picked in the reserve-grade team. I started to play myself into form, stringing a few good games together, and it was noticed by the coaching staff.

  Around this time my partner, Suzie, who I’d met through a mutual friend, found out she was expecting our first child. Suzie and I had knocked

  It all began to take its toll physically and mentally.

  around the same touch footy circles and she was a great support to me in my early career, especially in my chase for the NRL dream. Because I wanted our child to be born into a financially stable environment, I started paying even more attention to my footy and didn’t drink much. Week by week, as I put some great games together, I continued to impress the coaching staff, and it wasn’t long before I was picked in the first-grade team to make my NRL debut. Finally, the time had come to live out my childhood dream.

  I didn’t sleep a wink the night before my first-grade debut. On the way to Shark Park, I seemed to take every wrong turn and was late for the warm-up. All the players laughed at me for being late and in a screaming mess. To my surprise and happiness, though, the coach had organised for my dad to present me with my playing jersey. This is a memory we both hold very close.

  I was full of nerves and a rattling mess when I took to the field as an NRL player for the first time.

  I didn’t sleep a wink the night before my first-grade debut.

  I’d dreamed of this moment for most of my life, and the fact I was playing for the mighty South Sydney Rabbitohs made things even sweeter.

  People sometimes ask me what it was like playing my first NRL game. The funny thing is, I copped a knock to the head that gave me a mild concussion for the rest of the game. I do remember that we lost, but one thing that stood out for me was that my idol, close friend and mentor Dave Peachey, was playing in his 200th NRL game. After the siren and when we were shaking hands, ‘The Peach’ said to me: ‘Young brother, as my career is nearing its end, yours is just starting. Good luck.’

  I had spent my entire life chasing the dream of becoming an NRL player. I now had the monkey off my back, and it was time to get to work and live up to my potential.

  7

  DRUGS

  Wins were few and far between for Souths in 2004. It was challenging, but nowhere near as difficult as what I was going through off the field. My alcohol abuse was becoming rampant again, now I was earning more, and playing first grade had sent my ego to an all-time high, especially after I was named Rookie of the Year 2004.

  Things got even worse when I discovered party drugs during the 2004–2005 off-season. I’d smoked a little bit of marijuana in my youth, but nothing extensive. And since I read a book called Anna’s Story about a teenage girl who died of an overdose of ecstasy, I’d been terrified about using party drugs, and had promised myself I would never go near any of the harder stuff. Little did I know where the next few years would take me.

  As anyone who knew me during my early NRL days knows, I enjoyed being the life of the party, laughing and joking, the centre of attention. On Mad Monday, I celebrated by drinking so much alcohol I couldn’t stand up. That afternoon, a guy I’d never seen before, who was partying with the group, approached me and asked if I needed anything to help me stay awake. That was the day I had my very first ecstasy tablet. Boom. I was instantaneously hooked.

  That same afternoon, I had my very first line of cocaine. After I’d inhaled it, I looked up at a teammate who’d just done the same. A million things were going through my head. As much as I knew what I was doing was wrong, I also felt a euphoria like I’d never experienced before. I felt like a rock star in a packed Wembley Stadium, with all the lights shining on me. From that point on, as soon as any type of mind-altering substance entered my body, it set off a craving to keep going and going and not want to stop.

  Drugs made me feel invincible, on top of the world. The more I had, the more I wanted — I didn’t want the feeling of complete euphoria to end. I’d lose all control and feel as if I didn’t have a problem in the world. During these euphoric moments, the voices in my head would disappear and it felt like nothing could bring me down.

  I pretty much spent the rest of the 2004–2005 off-season in party mode, drinking and using drugs every weekend. My profile had grown since I began playing first grade, and I was recognised more in public places. It was quite normal to be shouted beer when I was out on the town at night, and be offered a line or two of cocaine.

  Suzie was still pregnant, and we organised a holiday to her home town of Darwin. The weather there was so hot and humid, I used it as another

  I enjoyed being the life of the party, laughing and joking, the centre of attention.

  excuse to drink to excess. The more I drank, the messier I got, drinking until I vomited, then rinsing my mouth out with water and drinking more. Beer, spirits, cheap wine — you name it, I guzzled down anything I could get my hands on. I was so drunk when I arrived at Darwin Airport to head down to Sydney, I was almost refused entry to the plane.

  At times like these, Suzie would be extremely embarrassed. As well, when I drank too much, I’d spend the money we needed to live on week to week. It all caused a huge strain on our relationship. And the more I drank, the more I took drugs, and the worse my thought patterns became, to the point where I would drink and take more drugs to shut them down. Round it went. By the beginning of 2005, my life was spiralling out of control.

  It was during this crazy time that Suzie gave birth to our son, Brodi Ali Joseph Williams. I was on top of the world. When the Daily Telegraph ran a picture of Brodi and me on the front page, I remember saying: ‘There have been terror attacks, Osama Bin Laden is at large, and they’ve got a little Koori boy from the bush on the front page.’

  But it wasn’t enough to make me change what I was doing, and as a result of all the partying, drinking and rubbish food I’d been eating for so many months, I had gained ten kilograms by the time I returned to training in 2005. The coaching staff weren’t happy and, as a result, I was put into the ‘fat club’ — the name for the group of training players who’d come back from the off-season overweight. I worked hard in that pre-season and shed five or six kilograms, but focusing on losing weight meant I wasn’t concentrating on finetuning my game or learning more. So, while I started the year in first grade, I was dropped to reserve grade after just eight games. I’d paid the ultimate price for coming back overweight. I also had a poor attitude towards everything I’d need to do to keep me on the field and playing well.

  Of course, my relationship with Suzie was no longer in great shape. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t very happy about all my late nights out and my excuses and lies about partying and drinking. I knew I was doing the wrong thing by both her and Brodi and that my life was heading down a
dangerous path.

  Being demoted from first grade really gave my ego a kick, and the negative chat between my ears started up again in force. My mind was a racing mess, and the only way I knew how to quieten down the constant negative banter in my head was to continue to drink and take as many drugs as I could. For some strange reason, I kept thinking the answers to my bad form on the field and my relationship troubles with Suzie could be found in alcohol and drugs. It was a vicious circle.

  I couldn’t go to the pub to have a quiet beer. Instead, I’d drink to excess and then go looking for whatever drugs I could get my hands on, whether it was a bag of cocaine, some ecstasy tablets or speed.

  The more I drank, the more I took drugs, and the worse my thought patterns became.

  I even used ice on some occasions. I liked to keep partying through the night and would often call in sick to training because I was too intoxicated from the previous night or coming down from heavy drug use.

  One day, I missed a mid-week training session after going to an Oasis concert with a heap of school friends from Wagga. We stayed out for the majority of the night, and I got completely wasted. Another time I was so out of it I called my reserve-grade coach in a panic to explain why I was late for training. ‘It’s our day off,’ he replied. I’d completely lost track of the days.

  I’d gone from a kid who wanted nothing more than to be a successful NRL player to a lost young man with very little love for the game left, who gave more priority to going out at night than performing well on game day.

  I hated the man I’d become. Yet the more my self-loathing increased, the more I would drink and take

  I’d drink to excess and then go looking for whatever drugs I could get my hands on.

  drugs. There were times I even went to bed with a skin full of drink and drugs, hoping to not wake up because I was convinced that the world would be better off without me.

  My head was a mess, my priorities were all out of whack and I was heading downhill — fast. Although I knew I wasn’t doing the right thing, I just couldn’t be honest with myself enough to get help for my problems.

  Someone suggested I turn to the church and ask God to help me with my alcohol and addiction problems. So, at the beginning of 2006, I decided to give it a red-hot crack. You can’t drink at church, I told myself. Unfortunately, three weeks later I turned up to church drunk.

  It was during this time that my first daughter, Phoenix, was born. I thought that having another child would make me pull my head in, especially a little girl. There’s something about men having their first daughter — they want to be their protector. I was trying to clean up my life, be a good dad and partner, and hold down an NRL career — a tough balancing act.

  The penny finally dropped during a trip to Yass for a touch football game. I was talking to a close friend, Fergo, with whom I’d done a lot of partying over the years. Somehow our conversation made me admit to myself that I had a major problem with alcohol and drugs and that I had to do something about it because I was not being a decent partner or father. Not only that, I was starting to engage in some risky behaviours, such as hanging around bars until all hours of the morning, even to the point of dodging police and having run-ins with dodgy characters in Kings Cross. If I didn’t do something, there was a chance I’d end up dead or serving a fair stint in prison.

  The very next week I joined Alcoholics Anonymous, knowing it was essential if I was to get my footy and my life back on track.

  But, despite acknowledging I had a drinking and drug problem, I didn’t for one second think I might have a mental health problem. I thought that someone who was mentally unwell was ‘weird’ or not stable in society. I even believed that mentally ill people were criminals.

  How wrong I turned out to be.

  8

  GETTING CLEAN

  My early days with Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) and the whole journey to sobriety were extremely tough. I was still playing for Souths; I was scared that someone at AA would recognise me, and the word would get out to the press. I was so paranoid I wore a hood to meetings and pulled it down over my eyes.

  The only way I could stay sober was to not let myself get anywhere near a bar or any place with alcohol. There were times when I’d lock myself in my house knowing that if I went out, the noise inside my head would direct me to a bar of some sort. I went to every effort to stay away from alcohol, so much so I even lost some friends.

  Back then, there was a fairly heavy drinking culture among NRL players, so it was difficult to remain alcohol-free. The attitude of the majority of the boys was that you trained hard during the week, played hard on the weekend and then partied hard after the games. Most people I knew couldn’t understand why I was giving away alcohol.

  My teammates and coach knew little about the disease of alcoholism, so it was a struggle to not pick up a drink and to stay drug-free. Once I asked my coach if I could be excused from going on a cruise for a Christmas function because I was committed to staying sober and knew it would be hard to fight the temptation to drink.

  ‘It’s okay to have a few quiet drinks,’ he said, ‘just as long as you don’t go over the top.’

  It wasn’t okay, not for me.

  A couple of weeks later, we headed back to Wagga for Christmas. I was anxious about how I’d cope. Christmas had always been a huge party in our family — food, alcohol, music and good times. It was a Williams’ tradition for Dad to put on a keg of beer and whoever turned up would bring spirits or whatever they wanted. Many relations, including Dad and myself, could play guitar and sing, so we’d pass the guitar around and sing all night, and during the days that followed.

  But now I was sober, it was going to be a tough situation to come into. My sobriety was really

  The only way I could stay sober was to not to let myself anywhere near a bar or any place with alcohol.

  important to me, so I didn’t want to drink or be around it.

  I called Dad. ‘I’m not coming home if there’s any alcohol in the house,’ I said.

  Dad agreed. It was more important to have everyone together, he said.

  Relieved, I loaded up the car and we drove the five hours from Sydney to Wagga. But when we arrived, I could tell that Dad had had a skin full. He was full of Christmas cheer and was well under the weather.

  I turned to Suzie. ‘Get the kids back in the car,’ I said. ‘We’re going home.’ I’d already gone through ten months of sobriety, and saw how my life had improved. I’d go to any lengths to keep it that way.

  When Dad heard me and saw that I was serious, he stood up and asked me to stay.

  ‘No, Dad, this is important to me,’ I said. ‘I told you I wouldn’t come home if there was any alcohol in the house. But there is, so I’m going. We’re going.’

  Dad knew I was dead serious. After a few short words, he made the biggest commitment to me to date. ‘Joe,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, I broke my word. I’ll get sober tomorrow. Will you take me to one of your meetings?’

  Since then, there have been many different situations during which Dad could have picked up a drink but didn’t. We are now both twelve years sober — together.

  Always run faster when you are being chased — especially by bigger guys.

  Later in 2007, I played the majority of games in the top grade, but I also played a string of games with the reserve-grade team, the North Sydney Bears, which was the feeder club for the Rabbitohs. We had an awesome team and got through the finals series to qualify for the grand final, which we were raging favourites to win.

  Despite it being a reserve-grade team, thirteen of the seventeen-man North Sydney Bears squad had played first grade, either during the 2007 season or before. The grand final also had special significance as it was going to be the last game for my childhood hero, David Peachey.

  All week I was excited, but I was dreading the post-game events. Win or lose, traditionally, footy teams go out on the night they finish the season and continue to party through to ‘Mad
Monday’. The whispers in my head were convincing me that it wasn’t every day you won a grand final. Surely I could have a few quiet beers if we won, they said, even though I knew that these types of celebrations were never quiet and that limiting myself to a couple of beers would be a massive challenge.

  The game turned out to be a fairly dour affair, with our team far from its best. There was a horrendous wind that played havoc for the goal kickers. I’d had a roughly 75 to 80 per cent success rate during the year, but on that day I only managed one conversion from seven attempts.

  Despite my disastrous day with the boot, the score was level with just a little over two minutes remaining on the clock. We had the ball and were making our way up the field with the plan that, as soon as we were close enough, I’d attempt a field goal. We managed to get within goal-scoring range, and the ball came to me — and while it wasn’t the prettiest of kicks coming off the boot, it managed to scrape over the crossbar.

  I did it again, I thought to myself, just as I had done in the Under 20s grand final five years earlier. I was already picturing the after-game party in my mind. All we had to do was hold Parramatta, the opposing team, out for one minute.

  Well, that day, Parramatta had other plans. I’m not quite sure how they got the ball back from the kick-off, but they quickly had us under pressure. We were desperately defending our line when, just as the siren sounded, the Parramatta backrower, Weller Hauraki, crashed over beside the post and slammed the ball down for a winning try.

  I was shattered, and the team was shattered. We’d lost the grand final. We’d so wanted to send our brother Peach off with a career-ending win, and we’d tried so hard, despite it being our worst game of the season.