Bra Boy: Surfer, Fighter, Larrikin book extract by Richie ‘Vas’ Vaculik

HOW Richie ‘Vas’ Vaculik went from nipper to Bra Boy, to becoming a professional UFC fighter. Here’s an exclusive extract from his book Bra Boy: Surfer, Fighter, Larrikin.

Richie Vaculik went from went from nipper to Bra Boy and then UFC fighter. Picture: John Appleyard

I WAS doing nippers down on ­Maroubra Beach when it dawned on me. I looked up and down the beach and saw all these older guys surfing, hanging out, laughing, and doing pretty much whatever they wanted.

I didn’t know they were Bra Boys, I didn’t know they were anyone, but I knew I wanted to do what they were doing — just surf all day.

Plus they were light years cooler than the fat guy standing there in sluggos and a cap yelling at me to march in line.

Most kids who grow up in the surf club doing nippers generally reach a point where they kind of get sick of being told what to do and look for something looser and more fun.

The book Bra Boy, written by Richie Vaculik.

That’s human nature, teenage rebellion, I suppose, and generally that happens around 15. I was 10. At this point I had no surfing mates. I was about to get a few hundred.

Mum walked into the Aurora milk bar down on Marine Parade, which was owned by a guy called Shaun Bellanto.

She asked: “Do you know where my son can join this boardriding club?”

Shaun told Mum to head around to the surf shop, ­Maroubra Underground, just around the corner in McKeon St, “and just ask for Hair Bear”.

“Hair Bear” was Paul Chandler, psychologist, surfer, surfboard salesman — and the guy who helped run the Maroubra Boardriders Association.

He was also probably the most responsible guy on the beach at that stage, maybe the only one. He and Mum talked, and 10 minutes later I was a fully paid member.

That was a big Sliding Doors ­moment right there, bigger than ­either Mum or I could imagine.

What if I’d stayed in the surf club? What if she’d signed me up at Bondi Boardriders instead? I couldn’t even imagine what I’d be doing today … or what I’d be wearing.

Hair Bear has a very reassuring manner, and Mum was stoked I’d signed up.

She felt comfortable that I was going to be looked after in the surf, and Mum loved the boys from the get-go.

Richie on a night out with now Souths player John Sutton.

Jai Abberton gave me his old board from when he was a grommet.

She trusted them with her little angel. When all the shit would go down in later years, she would stick by them. Mind you, at this stage neither she nor I had even heard of the Bra Boys.

Koby Abberton was like Maroubra — the beach, the suburb, it’s past and everyone in it — just got up on two legs and started walking around. He embodied Maroubra more than anyone.

But Koby was more than that; Koby was a force of nature. Koby had two older brothers, Sunny and Jai, and a younger brother, ­Dakota.

By this stage both Sunny and Jai were already pro surfers, travelling the world.

They were ­already legendary figures in Maroubra and especially to the Bra Boys. The Abberton boys were central to the story of both.

From the time I joined boardriders as a kid I was under his wing.

Both Jai and Sunny were really good to me as well, Jai especially. Jai was always nice to you — no red bellies, no grommet abuse — and he’d ­encourage you out in the surf when it was big rather than scream at you.

When I started fighting professionally, walking into the Octagon was like walking into a jail yard in the way you can’t show any ­weakness, not a blink, but the way that comes across is different for everyone.

Richie 'Vas' Vaculik hitting the pads with Koby Abberton in his backyard in 2000. Picture: Billy Morris

When I first started fighting there was a guy called Ian Schaffa, a big name, and he had mastered that stare-down in the ring, his eyes burnt holes in guys, and when I first started fighting I did the same thing.

That’s just what I thought you did.

As I won fights and I got more confident I was happier to see my opponent and crack a joke. I ­remember I fought this guy at the Sydney Entertainment Centre and I looked down at the weigh-in and ­noticed the guy was wearing exactly the same thongs as me. I said to him, “Mate, they are f ... ing ­unreal thongs you got on there.”

At first he thought I was taking the piss, then he realised I actually did have the same thongs on and he laughed. It totally defused the moment.

The psychology of that first meeting at a fight is pretty interesting and it makes great theatre and in many ways is why any combat sport succeeds.

Vaculik (right) in the UFC 193 fight in Melbourne against Danny Martinez in 2015. Picture: Michael Klein

But I quickly realised it means nothing. There were guys who’d look down at the floor and would give nothing out to their ­opponent, but then when they got in the cage they were animals.

I realised that getting in somebody’s grill before a fight means nothing — the staring, the calling out, the peacocking — it doesn’t matter when the bell rings.

It doesn’t matter how good your stink-eye is, you just start punching the shit outta each other and the best punch wins.

At the end of the day, you and him are going into the cage and it’s all gonna get sorted, and to me that staring and locking eyes doesn’t make a lot of sense.

The other thing is you don’t want to be the guy who puts on a big show before the bell and is knocked straight out in round one. That kind of thing lives on YouTube forever.

* This is an edited extract from Bra Boy by Richie Vaculik with Sean Doherty, published July 27 by Allen & Unwin, RRP $32.99. http://www.booktopia.com.au/bra-boy-richie-vas-vaculik/prod9781760292966.html