Jeff Probyn: Too high a price for ‘fame’ but it’s not the game’s fault

Writing this article every week often makes me think and reflect over my time playing, coaching, administrating and also watching the game. Sometimes it’s fun to look back to the good times as a player, remembering what was for me a 32-year-career in the adult game. Although occasionally when looking back, a darker side of the game I loved and lived comes to life.
When I started playing in the adult game as a 16-year-old prop, nobody cared about how heavy or tall I was, all that mattered was that I could do the job that my position (loose-head) required.
Unlike now, there were no age restrictions on when you could join a senior team or the number of games in a day, so I would play for my school in the morning and club in the afternoon.
Fortunately, I had a number of vastly experienced players helping me to make the transition from schools rugby to Old Albanians first team, before moving through various clubs, counties and divisions to finally getting the call to play for England.
For young players now, size is everything and the use of legal supplements like creatine is common but there is an unseen price to pay for fame and fortune as a number of untimely deaths have shown over the past few weeks.
For me, just as now, playing international rugby made you a star; although then, only within the rugby community as the game had yet to have the spike in profile the World Cup would bring.
Although the first World Cup moved rugby on, it was played in Australia and New Zealand at times not conducive to a massive European audience, making the 1991 World Cup the real game changer for the sport.
The success of England in reaching the final kept the whole of Europe watching throughout the entire contest, admittedly with most of our Celtic cousins praying we would lose.
Despite losing to Australia in the final, the players became household names with some moving from the sports pages at the back of the newspapers to the front – and celebrity sections. I say game-changer, but even now if you asked people in the street to identify a current international from a picture, most would fail.
However, I believe that the World Cup more than anything changed the perception of the sport and the profiles of players in the eyes of the public, making the move to professionalism midway through the decade possible if not almost inevitable.
It was the first time that players were used in a major national advertising campaign by one of the RFU‘s main sponsors, Nike. Six players were chosen – Dean Richards, Wade Dooley, Paul Ackford, Richard Hill, Mickey Skinner and myself – all from the ‘91 Grand Slam squad, to become the face of the England team. It was strange to see huge posters of us all plastered on advertising boards across England.
As a squad, we also endured the level of pre-tournament preparation ramped up with a massive upsurge in training days, including a number of public sessions in different parts of the country.
As a result, the phone never stopped ringing with requests for interviews and appearances, all for little or no money (as it was amateur in those days) and as retirement loomed, there were numerous offers to write books etc. Then comes the day you are dropped from the England squad and the phone stops ringing, although not immediately because all want to write about how you feel being replaced but, eventually, silence.
For the lucky few who remain controversial figures within the sport, they can retain a media profile with which there is still some public recognition but for the majority the adjustment from being ‘a star’ to just like ‘everyone else’ can be difficult.
Back then, part of the problem was how to dedicate the increasing time needed to training in an ever increasingly professional amateur game while holding down a job. If you could, you had a life outside of your public image and when the inevitable happened, many would think you were able to live your life more or less as a normal person, but unfortunately that’s not always the case.
The loss of ‘fame’ affects everybody differently. Some can go back to what they were before, some lead a kind of half-life still enjoying the warm glow of being recognised but not worrying about it if they are not.
For others, the day-to-day struggle of not doing what they did is a continual battle that they just can’t win. I know players who have struggled to come to terms with the loss of public profile, including suffering drug related problems and a forced change of career before getting their lives back on track.
In the pro era, where there is no dual life and the sport is all encompassing, the sense of loss can be overwhelming leading to depression and worse.
I did not know Dan Vickerman (depression) or Sione Lauaki (kidney failure with possible link to creatine use) but it seems to me they were like virtually every other player I’ve played with or against; hard men on the field and gentlemen off it.
Their deaths with so much to live for should not be blamed on the game they played with distinction. The price of fame is high and you never stop paying – but sadly for some the price is just too high.