LETTER TO MY YOUNGER SELF
An enduring passion for rugby led to an incredible career, but it took a little longer to figure out who he really was
My passion was always rugby and sport. At 16 I had nothing else in my life. I lived in a sporty area and really understood that in Bridgend, the town I was brought up in, the definition of if somebody was happy on a Monday was if Bridgend played rugby on Saturday and won. I don’t even know if my passion was rugby, I just felt the amazing influence rugby could have on whether people had a good day or bad day, a good week or bad week, a good life or bad life.
I understood I was different but didn’t know what that difference was. I never explored it. I put it behind a locked door and thought I would never open it, because I was afraid of what was on the other side. At 16, whenever I played or watched a rugby match, if a player missed a tackle, if they weren’t fast, if they were weak, they were called gay. So I thought my difference couldn’t be that – because I was fast, I was strong, and I could do these rugby things. But I knew I was hiding something.
I was so lost. I remember being a fan of certain music but only playing it locked in my bedroom, for fear of people knowing. I loved Jimmy Somerville. I loved Bros. But this music I loved didn’t match the image I had created outside of that tiny bedroom in a terraced house in Bridgend. So whenever I left the safety and security of my home, I felt lost. Because I didn’t know who I was and I was constantly trying to be whatever definition of myself that whoever I was with expected me to be.
I would tell my younger self to stop trying to fucking please people all the time. Because it’ll never ever work. I’d get in so much trouble because I was always the one – and my mother says this to me now – that if somebody wanted to see what reaction doing something would get, they would ask me and I would do it. So if I could whisper in my younger self ’s ear, I’d tell him to do just one or two things a day that will please yourself.
There’s a lot of Bridgend and a lot of my parents in me. We didn’t have much growing up; I wasn’t good at school, but my parents allowed me to explore this passion for rugby and gave me the opportunity to follow my dreams. I played rugby all around the world and I don’t think my parents missed a game. That was so in
