King without a crown
Samantha Lane
February 11, 2007
Steven King says casting off the burden of leadership has given him a new lease on life.
Photo: Sebastian Costanzo
STEVEN King would hate this to sound like a sob story. Or a sympathy bid. Or, God forbid, an excuse. But the bottom line is that football was ruining his life. Last week though, he could at least smile at the irony that, during the year he counts as his most miserable, a youth suicide prevention group approached him about helping young Australian men from the country to ditch their pride and discuss their problems. This past summer, the 28-yearold former Geelong captain, originally a country boy himself, has been smiling a lot. His teammates and support staff at Geelong have been marvelling at it. As King sat on the train that returned the team from its Swan Hill community camp last Thursday, he emphasised that he hadn’t ever felt as desperate as the kids he intends to help through the “Coach the Coach” program.
But things did get pretty dark. “I probably just let the football thing ruin my whole . . .” King pauses momentarily before finishing. “I don’t know, it probably just transformed me a bit as a person. I just got so negative on everything.
“For a time last year I just hated what I was doing. Going to training and playing was probably the least thing I’d look forward to in a week. You put this pressure on yourself that you are this big, strong footballer. It’s meant to be fun.”
But with Geelong floundering and King once again feeling like a substandard captain — his body letting him down for a third consecutive year — nothing much at all was fun any more. King, who friends and family would have once described as a laid back and optimistic soul who loved a good laugh, was virtually unrecognisable.
“It was affecting me as who I was as a person and my outlook on life,” he said. “I was becoming a negative person. I was becoming bitter towards everyone. Not straight up, but just always doubting, questioning, and looking at the bad things instead of the positives.
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“I shut people out of my life and even avoided doing things that I’d normally do because I felt embarrassed about what had happened and what was going on.”
The Cats were pre-season premiers and became winter fancies.
But they missed the finals, winning just 10 games. King played 18, but the numbers were more flattering than the reality. The spotlight was shone hard, chiefly in the faces of club coach and skipper. Within days of Geelong’s last game King had handed in the captaincy title he’d held for four years and the club was scoured like a crime scene.
VICTORIA’S only one-team town has a devoted or — depending on the win loss count — derisive newspaper covering its every move. The publication has a particular place in the club’s subconscious. It makes heroes and villains of the local sports stars. Many at Geelong say they pay no mind. But in spite of himself, King, already twice a best-and-fairest winner and All Australian in 2000, admits he started believing some of what he was reading and hearing.
He confided in virtually no one. “I didn’t really deal with it, as in speak to people about it,” he said. “I probably just tried to be too proud and not ask for help off anyone. You didn’t want to burden anyone with your issues and that was the hardest thing.
“It was one of those things. Guys try to deal with it themselves.” King became increasingly introverted and, to an extent, isolated himself. He hung out mostly with old friends from Shepparton, “mates that I knew that didn’t care about footy”. King’s girlfriend Danielle is not much of a footy expert. But through all this she was qualified to play personality policewoman.
“It got to a stage where she said you’re just getting so negative about life and your whole personality’s changing because you’re letting this get to you.
“I probably kept away from crowds and became more of a homebody.” It didn’t ever get worse, physically, than at the end of the 2005 season when King was wheelchair-bound and virtually immobilised. He’d had an Achilles operation and couldn’t use crutches because he’d also torn tendons in his wrist, so for around two weeks he only left bed to hop to the toilet. But mentally, 2006 was one long low point.
King didn’t even begin running until mid-January last year, and played only half a game in the VFL before round one. In the first 10 minutes of round three he did a hamstring. Then he hurt a calf.
Asked how many of the 16 games he should have played, King says: “There were probably a couple of games where I felt all right, I felt a bit fresh.”
His weekly worry was not whether he’d be able to dominate a match, but whether he’d even get through it. But pride, a sense of responsibility and even guilt kept him putting his hand up to play. Not that it’s a rare problem in the AFL (just ask St Kilda’s 2006 captain Luke Ball).
“You’re paid good money to play footy and you’ve got this responsibility, as captain, to play. You feel embarrassed that you’re letting the club down, and you’re letting your teammates down and yourself I guess.
“When we were losing and I was out injured that created more pressure to hurry up.” The effect all this had on King’s team is hard to measure. But doubtless it was significant.
It’s only now, when he is starting to feel like himself again, that King has realised how badly he struggled. That he has not spent at least some part of this summer on crutches is, plainly, a miracle. He estimates it’s been four years since he hasn’t had an operation in the off-season.
THE initial benefits are that King is feeling “a lot more at peace with myself, where I’m at as a person more so than as a footballer.”
Teammate Cameron Mooney’s analysis is a little more colourful. “He’s a completely different person at the moment, just a huge joy around the club really.
“It’s the guy that’s had six or seven beers — but he’s sober. Just so much fun.”
Last March, Geelong coach Mark Thompson had said it was a make or break year for King in terms of the club captaincy. King knew way before season’s end that he had been broken. Before September was through, Tom Harley, who is older than King, took up the post. King has since ruled himself out of the leadership group altogether.
“It was difficult in the sense that you don’t want to be seen as a quitter or someone that concedes,” King says.
For the time being, the reduced commitment feels novel. He no longer arrives at training an hour early or stays an hour late. At a “Meet the Cats” function at the Swan Hill Town Hall last Wednesday night, King remained seated with the locals, like any other member of the 44-man Cats squad, while Harley and his five deputies formed a panel on stage. Harley, King says, is far more comfortable with that kind of stuff than he ever was.
King says he is not so much sad that his four-year reign was cut short, as regretful of the circumstances. “My biggest regret would be if I have a reasonable season this year and they go, ‘oh, it’s just because of the captaincy’.”
He took over the captaincy from Ben Graham as a 24-year-old dual best and fairest winner at the beginning of 2003. “It was probably a bit soon,” King said. “I think maybe the club had previously made mistakes, not just with me but with other captains, of giving the captaincy to the best player.
“I’m not sure whether I was ready for that whole responsibility. At the time I . . . think the club didn’t really invest any time in leadership development or anything like that.”
This off-season the Cats have prioritised leadership development more than King can remember. It’s with some envy that he has joined the youngest players in the workshops run by independent expert Gerard Murphy.
The removal of King’s invisible crown has eased some pressure. But it’s no comparison to the lightness he feels because his body is working as it should. Admittedly, it is still early February, but King’s optimism sounds genuine and well-founded.
“My resolution’s just to have fun and enjoy footy. And not get bitter but get better. “If this is my last year, well so be it, but hopefully I’ve got another three or four years.
“This is something I’ve wanted to do all my life and I’m actually doing it. I don’t want to get 10 years down the track and say ‘that should have been the best time of my life and it wasn’t’.
“Even this camp now, I’ve just been laughing the whole three days and mucking around with the boys. Normally the other years I’d think, ‘********, we have to go on a stupid camp’. I looked at the negatives of it all. Now it’s just fun being part of it.”
And with that, King returned to his teammates in a noisier carriage, eager to make the most of the final hour of the train ride with them.
Great article. Love the "dont get bitter but get better" quote: Mr. Packer's advice to Richie on the latest 12th man CD if i'm not mistaken. I think this is a real step forward for King.
Samantha Lane
February 11, 2007
Photo: Sebastian Costanzo
STEVEN King would hate this to sound like a sob story. Or a sympathy bid. Or, God forbid, an excuse. But the bottom line is that football was ruining his life. Last week though, he could at least smile at the irony that, during the year he counts as his most miserable, a youth suicide prevention group approached him about helping young Australian men from the country to ditch their pride and discuss their problems. This past summer, the 28-yearold former Geelong captain, originally a country boy himself, has been smiling a lot. His teammates and support staff at Geelong have been marvelling at it. As King sat on the train that returned the team from its Swan Hill community camp last Thursday, he emphasised that he hadn’t ever felt as desperate as the kids he intends to help through the “Coach the Coach” program.
But things did get pretty dark. “I probably just let the football thing ruin my whole . . .” King pauses momentarily before finishing. “I don’t know, it probably just transformed me a bit as a person. I just got so negative on everything.
“For a time last year I just hated what I was doing. Going to training and playing was probably the least thing I’d look forward to in a week. You put this pressure on yourself that you are this big, strong footballer. It’s meant to be fun.”
But with Geelong floundering and King once again feeling like a substandard captain — his body letting him down for a third consecutive year — nothing much at all was fun any more. King, who friends and family would have once described as a laid back and optimistic soul who loved a good laugh, was virtually unrecognisable.
“It was affecting me as who I was as a person and my outlook on life,” he said. “I was becoming a negative person. I was becoming bitter towards everyone. Not straight up, but just always doubting, questioning, and looking at the bad things instead of the positives.
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“I shut people out of my life and even avoided doing things that I’d normally do because I felt embarrassed about what had happened and what was going on.”
The Cats were pre-season premiers and became winter fancies.
But they missed the finals, winning just 10 games. King played 18, but the numbers were more flattering than the reality. The spotlight was shone hard, chiefly in the faces of club coach and skipper. Within days of Geelong’s last game King had handed in the captaincy title he’d held for four years and the club was scoured like a crime scene.
VICTORIA’S only one-team town has a devoted or — depending on the win loss count — derisive newspaper covering its every move. The publication has a particular place in the club’s subconscious. It makes heroes and villains of the local sports stars. Many at Geelong say they pay no mind. But in spite of himself, King, already twice a best-and-fairest winner and All Australian in 2000, admits he started believing some of what he was reading and hearing.
He confided in virtually no one. “I didn’t really deal with it, as in speak to people about it,” he said. “I probably just tried to be too proud and not ask for help off anyone. You didn’t want to burden anyone with your issues and that was the hardest thing.
“It was one of those things. Guys try to deal with it themselves.” King became increasingly introverted and, to an extent, isolated himself. He hung out mostly with old friends from Shepparton, “mates that I knew that didn’t care about footy”. King’s girlfriend Danielle is not much of a footy expert. But through all this she was qualified to play personality policewoman.
“It got to a stage where she said you’re just getting so negative about life and your whole personality’s changing because you’re letting this get to you.
“I probably kept away from crowds and became more of a homebody.” It didn’t ever get worse, physically, than at the end of the 2005 season when King was wheelchair-bound and virtually immobilised. He’d had an Achilles operation and couldn’t use crutches because he’d also torn tendons in his wrist, so for around two weeks he only left bed to hop to the toilet. But mentally, 2006 was one long low point.
King didn’t even begin running until mid-January last year, and played only half a game in the VFL before round one. In the first 10 minutes of round three he did a hamstring. Then he hurt a calf.
Asked how many of the 16 games he should have played, King says: “There were probably a couple of games where I felt all right, I felt a bit fresh.”
His weekly worry was not whether he’d be able to dominate a match, but whether he’d even get through it. But pride, a sense of responsibility and even guilt kept him putting his hand up to play. Not that it’s a rare problem in the AFL (just ask St Kilda’s 2006 captain Luke Ball).
“You’re paid good money to play footy and you’ve got this responsibility, as captain, to play. You feel embarrassed that you’re letting the club down, and you’re letting your teammates down and yourself I guess.
“When we were losing and I was out injured that created more pressure to hurry up.” The effect all this had on King’s team is hard to measure. But doubtless it was significant.
It’s only now, when he is starting to feel like himself again, that King has realised how badly he struggled. That he has not spent at least some part of this summer on crutches is, plainly, a miracle. He estimates it’s been four years since he hasn’t had an operation in the off-season.
THE initial benefits are that King is feeling “a lot more at peace with myself, where I’m at as a person more so than as a footballer.”
Teammate Cameron Mooney’s analysis is a little more colourful. “He’s a completely different person at the moment, just a huge joy around the club really.
“It’s the guy that’s had six or seven beers — but he’s sober. Just so much fun.”
Last March, Geelong coach Mark Thompson had said it was a make or break year for King in terms of the club captaincy. King knew way before season’s end that he had been broken. Before September was through, Tom Harley, who is older than King, took up the post. King has since ruled himself out of the leadership group altogether.
“It was difficult in the sense that you don’t want to be seen as a quitter or someone that concedes,” King says.
For the time being, the reduced commitment feels novel. He no longer arrives at training an hour early or stays an hour late. At a “Meet the Cats” function at the Swan Hill Town Hall last Wednesday night, King remained seated with the locals, like any other member of the 44-man Cats squad, while Harley and his five deputies formed a panel on stage. Harley, King says, is far more comfortable with that kind of stuff than he ever was.
King says he is not so much sad that his four-year reign was cut short, as regretful of the circumstances. “My biggest regret would be if I have a reasonable season this year and they go, ‘oh, it’s just because of the captaincy’.”
He took over the captaincy from Ben Graham as a 24-year-old dual best and fairest winner at the beginning of 2003. “It was probably a bit soon,” King said. “I think maybe the club had previously made mistakes, not just with me but with other captains, of giving the captaincy to the best player.
“I’m not sure whether I was ready for that whole responsibility. At the time I . . . think the club didn’t really invest any time in leadership development or anything like that.”
This off-season the Cats have prioritised leadership development more than King can remember. It’s with some envy that he has joined the youngest players in the workshops run by independent expert Gerard Murphy.
The removal of King’s invisible crown has eased some pressure. But it’s no comparison to the lightness he feels because his body is working as it should. Admittedly, it is still early February, but King’s optimism sounds genuine and well-founded.
“My resolution’s just to have fun and enjoy footy. And not get bitter but get better. “If this is my last year, well so be it, but hopefully I’ve got another three or four years.
“This is something I’ve wanted to do all my life and I’m actually doing it. I don’t want to get 10 years down the track and say ‘that should have been the best time of my life and it wasn’t’.
“Even this camp now, I’ve just been laughing the whole three days and mucking around with the boys. Normally the other years I’d think, ‘********, we have to go on a stupid camp’. I looked at the negatives of it all. Now it’s just fun being part of it.”
And with that, King returned to his teammates in a noisier carriage, eager to make the most of the final hour of the train ride with them.
Great article. Love the "dont get bitter but get better" quote: Mr. Packer's advice to Richie on the latest 12th man CD if i'm not mistaken. I think this is a real step forward for King.
