NRL news 2022: St George Illawarra prop Blake Lawrie reveals heartache behind NRL rise

In his most revealing interview yet, whole-hearted St George Illawarra prop Blake Lawrie opens up on the tragedy and inspiration behind his blossoming footy career.

St George Illawarra Dragons forward Blake Lawrie.

Whenever Blake Lawrie really needs to chat, he disappears out the door of his Shellharbour home and drives 20 minutes to see mum.

Especially on those days, he says, when things get difficult.

Even dark.

Which isn’t exactly the confession one expects from a rising St George Illawarra tough.

Or ‘throwback’, as fellow Dragons call him.

A fella whose wonderfully Winfield Cup vibes are born not only from his farm upbringing, or kamikaze playing style, but that beer barrel physique carrying both defenders and the ‘Blocka’ nickname since age six.

Which, undeniably, is a yarn worth exploring.

Especially for Dragons fans seeking promise in this new age story all old-school wrapping.

But as for Lawrie opening up?

“I don’t really do that much,” he shrugs.

“Except with mum”.

St George Illawarra prop Blake Lawrie lost his mum when he was 11. Picture: Dragons NRL

Which is why on those days Lawrie really needs to talk, he makes the short drive back to his hometown of Dapto, and the local cemetery.

Where alone, and for however long it takes, this young Dragon will sit by the gravesite of a mum lost to breast cancer 14 years ago — and speak.

“Whenever I’m in a dark time, I’ll always talk with her,” Lawrie starts, before lowering his eyes toward a tattoo which, writ large down his left forearm, carries her name; Carman.

“Some days, I’ll just visit to reminisce.

“Others, take flowers for nan.

“But whenever I need inspiration, I always go to mum. She’s the one who motivates me.”

Seated now in the grandstand at WIN Stadium, another pre-season sweat session in the books, Lawrie is talking through a life that has been his – and that of younger siblings Riley, Kasey and Jessica – since 2008.

Back when aged 11, and still in primary school, little Blocka stood by the bedside of his dying mum who, on life support, and unresponsive, was told goodbye one last time.

Even now, almost 15 years on, it is an image he cannot shake.

“Which isn’t ideal,” the Dragons No.8 shrugs. “But that was the last moment we shared.”

Yet not the last conversation.

Which matters.

Blake Lawrie is an old-school front-rower, on the charge against the Warriors. Picture: AAP

That, and plenty more too.

Which is why in the hours before this Saturday’s Charity Shield match in Mudgee, Lawrie will leave two tickets at the entry gate of Glen Willow Stadium.

Same as he will do for every home game this year.

An ongoing gift, he says, for grandparents Lyn and Eric; who haven’t only raised Lawrie and his three siblings since mum passed, or shaped his very being, but also provided an upbringing that would’ve been impossible for dad Dean, who was himself toiling through those days only a concreter knows.

“So my family, they’re everything,” Lawrie says. “They’re my core”.

Take nan, who will be somewhere in Saturday’s Charity Shield crowd as her grandson – that 106kg prop she still keeps a lollie jar for at home – looks to continue his ongoing rise against rivals, South Sydney.

With Lawrie now not only 79 games into NRL life, or willing to talk up NSW Origin goals, but determined to hold his starting place among the likes of Jack de Belin, George Burgess, Josh Kerr, Josh McGuire and Aaron Woods.

“And nan, she always blows me a kiss from the grandstand,” Lawrie says, breaking into a smile at the image of Lyn up among the punters, “rugged up with her 10 coats on”.

Blake Lawrie with his grandparents, Lyn and Eric.

“Growing up, she did everything for us kids. Ensured we wanted for nothing.

“Even now she still has a jar of sweets for me at her place.

“Andrew McCullough is always warning me ‘stay away from nans this weekend’.”

But as for obeying the Dragons No.9?

“Oh, it’s hard,” Lawrie laughs.

“There aren’t many nans who take no for an answer. They spoil you. According to her I’ve never played a bad game.”

But pop?

Well, the easiest job he ever had was rising at 3am to drive trucks.

That, and running the six-acre hobby farm which saw Lawrie’s childhood spent shadowing his grandfather to feed chickens, muck pig pens and move cattle between paddocks.

Which for Eric, was still easier than life as a Dapto coalminer.

When raising his own four kids in the 1970s, he would arrive home in the afternoons, grab a feed off Lyn, then head back out the door for night shift.

“So you have to work hard for a compliment,” Lawrie explains.

“If I had a good game, pop never said much. But if I had a bad one, yeah, he would let me know.”

‘Little Blocka’ as a youngster.

Lawrie coming through the Dragons’ ranks.

All of which goes a long way to explaining how Lawrie was an NRL prop by 20.

How in the years since too, this emerging NRL talent has improved not only his diet and body shape, but developed a tip on, late offload, footwork at the line and learned what it really means to work off the ball.

“Growing up, I had some talent,” he recounts. “But I realised early that to make it, I needed to be all in.”

So he is.

Same as dealing with mum’s death at just 11 also meant maturing quicker than most others his age.

“Oh, definitely,” he says.

“Sometimes I’d hear mates speak with their parents and … I dunno … I’m not one to judge … but I just wanted to tell them ‘mate, you don’t know which conversation will be the last’.”

Elsewhere, Lawrie also undertook a hands-on role with his siblings, helping his grandparents with the cooking, babysitting and, as soon as he could drive, making the school drop offs.

“Because I felt responsible for them,” he says.

“When my grandparents took us in, those three were all aged under seven.

“Jessica was two, still in nappies.

Blake Lawrie was an NRL player by 20. Picture: AAP Image/Dan Himbrechts

“So while I couldn’t be a parent, I did feel the need to be that parent figure.”

It is a commitment continuing today.

With Lawrie devoting so much of his free time to both his own family and that of long-time partner Emily, who just lately he’s been trying to sell on the idea of their own little hobby farm out west.

“But she loves the beach,” he grins. “So it’s a work in progress.”

Importantly, Lawrie also still keeps the tightest of bonds with mum.

Not only through their regular conversations, or the picture he keeps on display at home — “from when I was little, sitting on her knee” — but also quiet reflections with that forearm ink.

Like before games, when the young Dragon will brush a hand over her name.

Same deal at other key moments in life.

“Which is just mum’s way of still being here,” he says. “Helping me.”