The Soda Room podcast: Former Port Adelaide captain Travis Boak on losing his dad and the words that changed his life
Former Port Adelaide captain Travis Boak has told of the words that changed his life – and his game – in a new podcast with Mark Soderstrom.
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Former Port Adelaide captain Travis Boak has opened up about holding his father’s hand as he died, walking his sister down the aisle when she marries next year and his own desire to become a dad.
Boak, speaking on new podcast The Soda Room with Mark Soderstrom, says his father Roger was a major influence in his life.
In the hour-long podcast, Boak talks about how he quickly became the man of the house as a teenager when his father died, and how he made a point of looking after his mother and two sisters, probably at the expense of looking after himself.
But when mindset coach Ben Crowe, who has mentored stars such as Ash Barty, Dylan Alcott and Dustin Martin, told him “It’s OK to be you” after he had given up the Port Adelaide captaincy, his mindset changed.
He gave himself the freedom to make mistakes and his footy career flourished.
“He introduced me to all this vulnerability and … that’s when I started to get an understanding of where my thinking was, and where I was putting, you know, a lot of my built-up emotion,” Boak says.
“And he said, “It’s OK to be you”. That’s all he said … I was like: “Hang on, what? I can be me? You said I can be me?” And I was just like, wow … all that stuff that I was trying to be perfect and had to play well at footy to be good.
“And from that moment, it just, I went out on a footy field thinking nothing bad could happen.”
Boak also spoke of his desire to become a father.
“I’d love to,” Boak, 34, says.
“It scares me a little bit because I’m starting out a little bit older and I haven’t found a connection with anyone yet.
“The more I try and force it, the worse it gets. That’s probably another part now that I’ve got to start to open up to and not protect myself from being hurt – someone leaving me or not liking me or whatever it is.
“That’s a whole ‘nother part I probably haven’t put as much time into as I have in the whole performance space.
“But I’d love to be a dad more than anything. So hopefully one day, when I find a girl …”
SCROLL DOWN TO LISTEN TO THE PODCAST
Boak was just 16 when Roger, who played more than 200 games the Torquay Tigers, died of cancer aged 48. The Port Adelaide 300-gamer said he failed to deal with the mental fallout of his father’s death until eight or nine years into his football career, he still misses him every day and he attributes his own drive and determination to watching his dad fight cancer for two years after being given just six months to live.
“We all got the chance to go in there and sit and talk with Dad (during the final days in hospital before his death),” Boak said.
“I remember just holding his hand, sitting by the bed and talking to him. I can’t really remember what I said at the time … I was fortunate enough in that I actually got to say goodbye but it still feels like you’ve got more to say.”
Boak said his father was always present, often as coach, during his junior football days, but missed seeing him get drafted and regretted the pair were not able to chat about his performances over a beer after AFL games.
Boak also revealed his sister Cassie had asked him to walk her down the aisle when she married her fiance, and former SANFL footballer Anthony Biemans next year.
“Obviously the dad (usually) does that,” Boak said. “I wasn’t really sure how that works, if it’s mum or whatever. But she (Cassie) asked if I’d be the brother of the bride and walk down the aisle, so that was a really special moment.”
TRAVIS BOAK SPEAKS TO MARK SODERSTROM IN THE SODA ROOM
The Soda Room is presented in collaboration with The Sunday Mail.
Below is an edited transcript of the podcast – listen in full in the player above.
Mark Soderstrom: I love your story, Trav, because of what you’ve been able to do and, you know, you’ve had some bloody tough battles you’ve had to overcome. Are you happy just to go back a little bit? Can you remember the first time you played footy or do you remember your first football?
Travis Boak: It would have been a little soft, Carlton one, I was a Carlton supporter and we were just footy mad, my house … It was cricket in summer, footy in winter and that was it. I didn’t start surfing ’til I was about 17.
But yeah, it was just cricket and footy. A little bit of basketball at school. But as the boys at the club would say I cannot shoot so I didn’t play that much basketball.
MS: So you were young when your dad got crook?
TB: I would have been about 14, when we were sitting in the lounge room. And Mum and Dad told us at the time, and as most parents do, would probably try and protect the kids and don’t tell the full story. And we just got told he had cancer. And I think at that time, I had no idea what that even meant. So you just assume Dad’s gonna get a bit of treatment. Dad’s going to be good in a few months.
Yeah, so even if Mum and Dad told us what exactly cancer it was, I probably still wouldn’t have known. And it was like it was in his stomach lining, which was really hard. You couldn’t really operate on it. And he would have a lot of chemo and stuff.
And during that period, he just got sick and lost a lot of weight. He became really skinny. And we’re kind of not knowing what was going on … that was the worst period, it was almost that was worse than him actually passing away, was those two years that he was sick.
MS: Did they give him a time frame?
TB: After, mum told us he was given probably six months to live – and he lived for two years. He fought for two years. Which was really, you know, now we’ll look back on it and go well, that’s where I feel like I’ve got a lot of my drive and determination from was actually from that and you don’t even know.
But he went through some horrible stuff. The amount of times we had to call an ambulance for Dad, it was just horrendous. Horrendous. And you wouldn’t want to wish that kind of stuff on anyone.
MS: My parents are still alive. So I find it amazing to even understand and be empathetic to know what it feels like in that situation. When you knew that was happening with your dad, did you get the chance to sort of talk to him and tell him how you feel? Or do you sort of hold that back?
TB: We all got a chance to go in there and sit there and talk with Dad. I remember just holding his hand, sitting by the bed and just talking to him.
I can’t really remember what I said at the time. But yeah … you get that chance. I mean, I was fortunate enough in that in a situation where a parent passes away that I actually got to say goodbye, but it still feels like you’ve got more to say. And then post that, there’s just so much that you wish that they were still there – you know, getting drafted; conversations post footy; even today, like you know, “How do you reckon I played, you know, how’d I go here” because everything growing up, in my junior footy, Dad was there.
So you miss that kind of stuff that you know, you want to recall after a game and talk, even just have a beer …
MS: Knowing what you’re like and being the caring person you are, you would have looked after your sisters, you would have looked after your mum, but as a young guy, how are you looking after yourself? Did you know how to look after yourself?
TB: No. Once I got drafted, it was just all footy. It was all footy and all family. And that was it, I didn’t really understand. You know, any of my emotions, any of my feelings, I didn’t really deal with anything of Dad passing away until, you know, probably eight or nine years later. So everything just became, the harder I work, the more I can just forget about the rest, right. That’s kind of how I dealt with that. And that just became who I was. And in the end, footy became who I was for a long, long period of time. And that kind of ruined a few little relationships.
MS: When did you really start to think about your dad’s situation, how you’d been dealing with all of that? What happened there to sort of start that process?
TB: It would have been around 2016, I started to talk about Dad stuff with a psychologist guy that came into the club.
It was pretty intense, some of the stuff that we’re sort of talking about, and how he was able to get a lot of it out of me because it was pretty deep.
And that actually got a lot of emotion out, a lot, a lot of tears; I reckon before that I cried maybe once since Dad passed away, really not because I didn’t want to but I just couldn’t. It was just all buried. I reckon, I cried at the funeral for a bit and then post that. Just, I just, I don’t know, I just … and I think that’s where the footy stuff, I was just so focused on all this that I just forgot about all of my emotions, all my feelings.
MS: It’s almost like a survival mechanism, to protect your feelings and to protect your vulnerability?
TB: Well, basically, that’s what it is. I’ve got a picture in my mind of when it happened … when I left the hospital, knowing that Dad was passing away … the next day that you put an armour up, like I’m never getting hurt again.
And you know, whether that’s trying to be perfect, whether it’s trying to numb it.
And it wasn’t ’til about, you know, I started talking a little bit, but I still didn’t know how I was protecting myself or why I was protecting myself until end 2018, start 2019 I had a chat with a guy who I work with now, Ben Crowe, who looks after Ash Barty. He introduced me to all this vulnerability and … that’s when I started to get an understanding of where my thinking was, and where I was putting, you know, a lot of my built-up emotion. And that’s how I protected myself from being hurt.
MS: I imagine it’s taking you a long time. And you said a lot of work. But was there something, was there a technique? Was there advice that he gave that made you sort of start to understand yourself?
TB: It’s just a small line he said to me, that kind of just opened up everything and completely changed it. And literally, like, I just felt this whole weight just come off my shoulders.
And he said, “It’s OK to be you”. That’s all he said. During conversation, he said that to me and I was like: “Hang on, what? I can be me? You said I can be me?” And I was just like, wow, that’s kind of what I wanted to hear. And that to me then was like … all that stuff that I was trying to be perfect and had to play well at footy to be good. And do all this stuff to be a good human … “What, I can just be me? And make mistakes? And be vulnerable? And all that kind of stuff. And I’m still OK?”
And from that moment, it just, I went out on a footy field thinking nothing bad could happen.
MS: What was your mindset before that? If you played, let’s say, you had a game that wasn’t up to your usual standard?
TB: Going into the game, I was just so anxious, which when you know, when, when you feel like your worth is on the line through what you do … your body just kind of shuts down. Everything tenses up. So you go into fight or flight. So you go on the footy field and everything just feels so heavy and structured, and you can’t make good decisions because you’re literally trying to make the perfect decision all the time to stop yourself from being hurt.
MS: So tell me how all of that happened. And then were you able to then use that to understand your dad? And what happened with you during that time?
TB: I think another part of this is gratitude. So I had Sam Powell-Pepper stay with me for about four years, I reckon. And over that time, we got to get to know each other really well. And he shared his story about his dad. And in practising and starting to understand what gratitude was, and hearing more and more stories of how other people’s relationship with their dads.
So post Dad passing away, it was if someone had a bad relationship with their dad, I’d be so angry at that person: It’s like, you should be so happy that you have a dad, and you get to share all this stuff with them. Right? Where now I’m like, you start to hear other stories and … some people have had abusive dads or some people have lost their dads younger, or some people, you know, haven’t been fortunate enough to have a supportive dad.
And I was like, Oh my God, I was so lucky to have the dad I had for 16 years, you know, and my whole outlook on Dad passing away changed. I miss him every day, I wish he was here, but I was so lucky to have him. And the support, he gave me, the guidance he gave me for 16 years, some people don’t get and that’s the whole, you know, gratitude thing, you can change the way you look at the world.
MS: And now that you look at this, in hindsight, what did Dad teach you? What have you learned from him from the years that you had him and the years that you haven’t had? Because it sounds like he’s still taught you a lot in this time now.
TB: Yeah, and I think, you know, a few of the values that I’ve learned from Dad and also Mum, you know, the whole caring side and, and, and being kind and also valuing everyone, as equal, I think is a really, really important one.
There’s no one’s above or below anyone. Dad was always that kind of person. Mum is exactly the same. But I think the one thing that he taught me from probably just what he went through with his treatment and cancer was drive and his ability to, to battle through something that should have killed him six months, for two years. Because he wanted to spend more time with his family. I think that just, you know, was instilled in me, I don’t think before then, even though I was still pretty young, I didn’t have that drive. So now when I face challenging situations … there’s a fork in the road, which way am I going here? I’ve been taught one way. Let’s go down that road of challenging myself and continue to grow.
MS: With you talking about all those things and, obviously, the ability to impart knowledge and support the younger guys, have you thought about being a dad yourself? Have you thought about what you’d be like as a dad?
TB: I’d love to. It scares me a little bit because I’m starting out a little bit older. And I haven’t found a connection with anyone, a partner yet. So that does, at times, scare me.
The more I try and force that the worse it gets. So I understand that. You know, and that’s probably another part now that I’ve got to start to open up to and not protect myself from being hurt – someone leaving me or not liking me or whatever it is.
So that’s a whole other part that I probably haven’t put as much time into as I have in the whole, you know, performance space. But I’d love to be a dad more than anything. So hopefully, hopefully one day soon, when I find a girl …
MS: You know, when you’re looking, or you’re searching you never find it, you’ve got more chance of bumping trolleys in a supermarket when you’re not looking.
TB: You’re chasing it so everything becomes: “I have to get this or I have to get that” so you’ve blocked out everything. Or you might be this girl might have to be this way. So chasing that where there’s someone you are way more connected with is right there. I’ve got to be open to them, don’t I.
Well, Mum’s the one pressuring us. She wants grand kids.
MS: Will you say something at your sister Cassie’s wedding (next year)?
TB: I hope I get to talk, I’m not sure yet. So (I had) a very special moment, not long ago, Cass asked me to walk her down the aisle which is really special. Yeah, obviously the dad does that and I wasn’t sure how that kind of works if it’s mum or whatever.
She asked if I’d be the brother of the bride and walk down the aisle so that was a really special moment. So I’m looking forward to that.
MS: And what was the line from Ben Crowe?
TB: It’s OK to be you. I’ve got some markers at home and I just write on my mirror, in my bathroom. And I’ve just got “I am enough”, “I am worthy”, “It’s OK to be me”. Just to remind me every day.
I’ve got a gratitude journal I write in every day, what I’m grateful for in the morning, what I’m grateful for at night, how my day went, what am I proud of, what are my lessons.
MS: Boaky you’re a wonderful man, mate. And I know you’re a great footballer, but you talked about being a great person first. I think as good as you are at football, you’re a better bloke than you are footballer. And that’s not meant to be an insult in any way.
TB: And I appreciate that mate. Well, hopefully that would make Dad proud because that was, you know, everything I learned from him.
So yeah, it’s always human being first, football second.
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