Nathan Buckley opens up about accepting vulnerability and imperfection
For most of his life footy great Nathan Buckley thought happiness was directly connected to his success on the ground, but a recent trauma has completely changed his perspective on life.
Victoria
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Nathan Buckley has dedicated a large portion of his life to football, and for a long time, he thought that his happiness was directly related to his success on the field. But only in the last few years has he realised that he was searching in all the wrong places.
HM: The last seven or eight years, I feel the world has seen a completely different Nathan Buckley to perhaps the previous 30. Is that a result of you becoming more aware of yourself, while understanding that it’s OK to be vulnerable and imperfect?
NB: Yeah, I think so and it took me a while to get there, and I think there’s layers of it. I don’t know if I’m at the core of myself yet, and I’m a 50-year-old man! I’ve learnt things about myself in the last five years that I didn’t know. I’ve unpacked a lot.
HM: Was there a catalyst for the learnings?
NB: The most traumatic thing that’s happened to me recently was my marriage breaking down. The two most important things to me were family and footy. That was pretty much me. And when the family element started breaking down, my immediate family, I lent on football even more than I had before.
HM: In what way?
NB: It wasn’t just kicks, marks and handballs – it was the people in at footy in the footy club, and I think because they saw me vulnerable and imperfect, I actually think that deepened the connection. They realised that I needed them, potentially for the first time in our respective relationships. For the first time they saw that I needed support, and that I didn’t have all the answers, that I wasn’t bulletproof, that I wasn’t putting on this facade of “I’ve got it all sorted”.
HM: How did you get through?
NB: Whilst it was a bloody tough period, I learnt a lot about being more open, being more vulnerable and that I actually couldn’t hold it all in. At the same point, my footy family, and then close friends, just rose to the surface. I’d never really understood the absolute value of friendship until I had nowhere else to turn, and I needed them. I think it all taught me to be a better friend as well, and we’re only talking about the last four or five years.
HM: For so long you’d been an island, by yourself. Suddenly the Collingwood family and the world really open up their arms, and you open yours up back. It’s amazing how different things can be when you remove the weight – whatever weight that is – and real conversations begin.
NB: Agreed mate. As a young player, I used to run around the training track at the Brisbane Bears in 93’ and early at Collingwood, with tears running down my cheeks, sobbing uncontrollably. I always thought I was quite a resilient character, and I didn’t understand what was going on. I just wiped them away and kept going. I still remember sprinting from the centre square out to the wing to break the space to receive a kick and that wave comes for 15, 20 seconds. If it’s raining, it’s better because no one can see it!
HM: Did anyone notice?
NB: Someone might’ve, but they didn’t say anything. I reckon it happened four or five times that I can remember in the early stages of my career, and you’d just brush it off, push it back down.
HM: Not the ideal response, in hindsight.
NB: I just didn’t understand that it was a window of opportunity, and something I needed to address. I needed to get some help and have a chat with someone. I felt I had to put up this stoic facade so that no one found out I wasn’t a robot. That’s the way I was perceived.
HM: But that obviously wasn’t you?
NB: No, but the stereotype gets reinforced back to you, because if that’s what you give the world, then the world will give it back to you. I was not stuck in it, but I was stereotyped. That’s who I was thought to be, and as a result, I believed that that’s who I was. So it probably stayed ingrained for a long time, 28, 29 years old before I started debunking that a little bit for myself, and I’ve probably had to do it three or four times since.
HM: When you reflect back now, do you know what it was that was making you emotional?
NB: Just pressure and a sense of expectation. I never felt external expectations too badly, because my expectations on myself were greater than the external. The stuff that dad always said was “You’ve got to be better” and I created that same voice and messaging inside myself for anything that I did.
HM: So if it wasn’t your dad saying it, you were saying yourself.
NB: Yes, so anything I did was never really good enough. Early in the first half I was winning Copeland’s, getting all Australians and I’d give myself credit, I loved performing, I loved improving, but it was always delayed gratification, I never really stopped and gave myself a pat on the back. Now, when I get asked about how not winning a flag as a player or as a senior coach makes me feel, it’s changed. If you’d asked my 25 year old self how that felt, I would have been devastated, I’d have said, “Well, why am I doing any of this?” Now I look at it all and look back and enjoy the small wins along the way. But I didn’t do that for the longest time, and if I have a regret about my football career, it’s that I didn’t enjoy it as much as I should have. So that became a big part of the latter part of my coaching career. I really wanted young men that I was coaching to actually enjoy what were doing now, because there’s no guarantee of the pay-off.
HM: Life, nor football, doesn’t do guarantees.
NB: Neither do. What I aimed and hoped for at the beginning, never happened. But I accumulated a fair bit of stuff along the way, including a solid sense of self and appreciation for who I am as a person. But even though I didn’t get what I started out to achieve, I think I got something better.
HM: There’s a photo, I think in 92’ of you and your old man at the Magarey Medal. You say there’s two people smiling there, but there’s not two happy people there. What were you feeling?
NB: We were probably both thinking ahead, and not realising what we had achieved. Dad had a little sideways smile, he had a couple of teeth knocked out, undersized ruckman, sharp elbows, so he got beat around a bit. He gave as good as he got, but when dad smiled, he really smiled. I was happy to succeed and I was hungry to find out how good I could be, but that success happened so quickly, I only played 30 games of SANFL. But it was never enough. It was like “Put it in the back pocket, go again”. “Done that, what’s next?” Not even a pat on the back. Which is probably why I was able to win the Magarey, and then go to the grand final five days later and still be as hungry and desperate to keep going.
HM: You won the flag, and the best on ground. Then you had to go to Brisbane, then to Collingwood, never pausing or enjoying – it sounds tiring.
NB: I was always thinking, and challenging and questioning myself, and that’s tiring. When I went to Brisbane, I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to the guys at Port. I missed the pre-season, I went to Darwin to sort of work out what I was going to do with my football. I was contemplating going back to Port Adelaide to play SANFL for another year, or going to Brisbane and play AFL. I was on Brisbane’s list without them having really spoken to me. I sent a fax to the Port Adelaide Footy Club, a letter to the players and everyone there just to say thanks for what they’d done for me, and how they helped shape me. A 20-year-old sending what felt like a 13-year-old writing a letter to his teacher, it was so innocent. But I was really grateful and still am, but as I’ve gone along, I’m so grateful for the Port Adelaide Football Club and the people that were involved at that time because they built me up when I needed to be built up, and they dragged me down when I got too far ahead of myself. Wallsy (Robert Walls) did that for me in Brisbane too. I was very lucky along the way, and I think I’ve had a fair dose of good fortune, along with the hard work.
HM: You talked about the pressure, was that ingrained and put on yourself or was that combination of the outside pressure that you felt as well as the environment you grew up in which I think was very critical and you’re always analysing and that “If I’m not winning, I shouldn’t be happy” mentality stemmed from home, didn’t it?
NB: Well it’s one of the reasons we moved around a lot. Dad was a valuer, mum was a nurse, they could both work in the public and private sectors, and they could get jobs anywhere. Dad wanted to follow coaching jobs, and he did that, looking for wins. What I didn’t realise, until much later, was that dad had gone to war three years before I was born, and in recent times, probably the last 10 or 15 years, I’ve been able to unpack this with him.
HM: What did you learn?
NB: He told me that he was searching for something that he was never going to find. So that was one of the reasons we were always moving, one of the other impacts of that, was just how hard dad was on himself and then me, on how to prepare yourself for life.
HM: Examples?
NB: We didn’t just kick a footy, we did drills. So it was 20 on the left, 20 on the right, 20 handballs on the left, 20 handballs on the right, if you’re not quite hitting the target – push-ups, let’s go again. I didn’t feel like it was done with a smile on my face, but the way I remember, it was drilled and Dad was a hard man. He had high expectations because he knew how tough the world was, how tough life was. And he didn’t want me to be unprepared.
HM: Did you enjoy it?
NB: The way that came across to me was pretty cold and pretty critical. I always found out about the things that I didn’t do well in a game of footy, or the things I needed to do better in my life, not what I was doing well. Working harder, doing more, running better at school, go harder at that contest. That was where a lot of the focus was. I felt like I grew up in quite a critical, measured, methodical environment, and as a result, I became a critical, methodical, measured person. That became my nature.
HM: To be intense, critical, focused, more, more more, no happiness.
NB: Dad always suggested that life isn’t easy, and if there’s something to achieve or if there’s something worthwhile to have, there are plenty of competitors, so you’d better be working, striving and sacrificing to have that.
HM: All from the right place though ….
NB: It was. I felt it was pretty hard to earn his love. So that’s what the little boy in me took away from that. The truth is he was trying his best to prepare me for the realities of life, which isn’t easy.
HM: It took a long time to get the father and the son together and talk, and you had an important lunch where you gave him a handwritten letter.
NB: That was only recently, it’d be 12 months ago or so. You go through different times in your life when you’re a little bit more reflective on things that you’re grateful for, and I’ve become more grateful the older I’ve got. I just get more grateful for what I have, and for the hardships as well, and what they’ve taught me. I wrote a two-page letter. I just wanted to say thanks to dad, because I was reflecting early last year on where I’ve been able to get to as a person, and to be more comfortable in my own skin. I wanted to unpack that with him and I wanted to say thanks for being the best parent you could. I know that more now than I ever have – so thanks for that, and thanks, for not giving up on me when I’d given up on myself and thanks for loving me.
HM: You read it to him ….
NB: …..across the table after I’d given him a photo of the two of us. If there’s one thing I could recommend anyone doing in their life, if they’re still fortunate to have their mum and dad living, is to do something similar, just take them to lunch, and say what you need to. Not on an anniversary, not on a Father’s Day or Mother’s Day, take the time out of your day because you will not invest a more important two or three hours into a conversation. You don’t need anything in return, you shouldn’t expect it to have a certain outcome, because you can only look after 50 per cent of the relationship, not the response. Just say thanks, be sincere, say what you want to say. You’ll never forget taking that time.
HM: Powerful. When did you become good at forming relationships that would last?
NB: I think that’s still a work in progress as well.
HM: Is it?
NB: Yeah. I think the most important relationship you can ever form is the one with yourself, and I’m getting a lot better at that. You need to forgive your shortcomings, and you need to give yourself a bit of credit. You can spend a lot of time with someone, but how deep is that relationship? I’ve had a lot of relationships in my life, not all of them have lasted, not all of them have had the depth of others, but I reckon I’m still getting better every day at understanding relationships and how they inform the way that I want to be, the spaces that I want to go to, how I want to feel. I think it’s never ending.
HM: What have you got better at? The empathy piece?
NB: Absolutely. I reckon I was about halfway through my playing career, probably around the end of 99 or 2000. I’d been made skipper of the Club of Collingwood in 99 at 27 years of age, by Tony Shaw, and I reckon he did it off the back of the things that he valued. He led by example, work ethic, professionalism, will yourself to be the best you can be. And I think those attributes were what he felt the club and the playing group needed, so he whacked me on a pedestal. Gavin Brown had been skipper, and he was courage personified, selfless, not a big talker, but a big doer, so that ‘lead by example piece’ was always there.
HM: And you?
NB: I had no time for anyone at that point, I was still trying to prove my worth within me, my relationship and myself. I felt like if I played great footy, then I was a good person, I was worthy as a person. And if I didn’t play good footy, well then, I wasn’t worth a pinch of shit.
HM: The person being linked directly to the performance … dangerous.
NB: When I reflect on that time, the pressure that I put on myself to perform, was largely around how I viewed myself as a person. I was wanting to prove that I was worth something to others and to myself, I had no time for anything, or anyone else. It wasn’t healthy. I was so focused on finding a way to be good enough, so I just wasn’t a great leader, and it wasn’t until couple of years into that, at the end of 2000, when I sort of started exploring that a little bit. I realised I’m not contributing in the way that I need to, so there needed to be change.
HM: You often learn most from the most traumatic times in your life, you spoke about the marriage breakdown being that in recent times. What have you learned through that?
NB: That sometimes you think things are going to be forever, and they aren’t, and that’s OK. I think that it’s OK to celebrate, and to be grateful for a period of time that you have had, with someone, or at a job, or being in a sweet spot. But there’s no guarantee that it’s going to last, so be grateful for it. I’ve got two boys, 16 and 14, Jett and Ayce that I love dearly, from marriage. Tania was a big part of helping me through my life, and hopefully I did that for her as well. That was hard to let go of, but I’m working my way through it and there’s still a lot of emotion with it, there’s still a bit of anger, still a bit of mourning, but I think that’s part of living, part of going through experiences in life and you find yourself in situations that you’d never thought you’d find yourself in. That’s life … you don’t control it all. I feel very fortunate to have met a partner in Brodie that I love and respect. Life is good.
HM: Two great kids … what a triumph that is in itself.
NB: I love my boys, and I know that being a dad’s the hardest job I’ve ever had. Trying to give equal parts of love, but then, trying to set them up for their future, pulling them out of their comfort zones to make them resilient enough, and believe in themselves enough, and have enough self-confidence and self-esteem and wherewithal, to be able to find their way through their lives. My reality’s no different than anyone else’s, it’s hard. I think when people view you through the prism of a public figure, or a sports person in particular, and I think they feel like you’re bulletproof, but you’re not. There’s a human under there that’s got their own struggles and their own challenges.
HM: It’s amazing hearing you talk about marriage, friendship, embracing friends, forging relationships and here you talk with such vulnerability. For a long time you wouldn’t go near that line and then you decided to cross it.
NB: To be honest I’m not entirely comfortable or know whether it’s the right thing to share it now, because there’s other people that are involved in this that might be at different stages to what you are at.
HM: Hearing this, “Oh so Bucks feels this as well.” It’s great for me to hear it because I find parenting and husbanding the two hardest jobs in the world.
NB: It’s taken me a while to get there, and I’m still peeling to try and work out what’s the most authentic self. You can change and evolve as well, but I think that has to be where the happiness is. I’d encourage everyone – what makes you feel like you are most in alignment with yourself? Diet, exercise, sleep are the big three, then connection and relationships. Whenever I get any time with anyone now I ask, “What are you doing with those?” Because if you’re not going to bed early enough, whether you’re not getting up early enough, you’re tired through the day, you make poorer decisions with your diet, maybe you jump on your phone and you avoid connection. There’s plenty of negative consequences from one bad decision, but if you make one good decision, there’s plenty of positive consequences, so stop bargaining with yourself, work out exactly what it is that makes you the best version of yourself, put those in training, find some accountability, whether it’s from a friend or a colleague or a manager or your mum or a family member and get them to hold you to account on those things so you can’t bargain your way out of it. Then you’re going to be a better version of yourself.
HM: Success and happiness, it’s not binary. Because you fail doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the experience, but that was always how you viewed life – unless I win, I can’t be happy, if I lose, I’m not a good person.
NB: Yeah, it was always singular for me. You either do or don’t. It’s either yes or no, you succeed or you fail, you’re worthy or you’re not, it’s good or it’s bad, but the reality is that’s not the way the world is. It’s gray. I thought as a coach that you needed to remove the gray, that you wanted your players and your staff to have real clarity, so I always want to things – pun intended – black and white. You still want to provide clarity and have people feeling like their contribution is going to be really important to the end outcome, but you want to give them room to play, room to put their own views, their own interpretation of things into the mix, because that’s where the beauty is. I only understood the art and the science of coaching late. The art part is ‘How much rope do you give here to allow this person to go and express themselves fully within the team plan”. I prefer to live in the gray now rather than having it black and white.
HM: You talk about acceptance and accepting others. Have you looked inward and accepted yourself and wherever it is you sit? Have you found a way to accept you?
NB: I’m getting there. I always think if you say you’re going to do something and you don’t do it, then that’s weakness. I think even internally, like I use the snooze button more now than I should and I bargain with myself at times because everyone thinks that you are this robot. Jett has actually said to me when I’ve said to him like, “Mate, you’ve got to get out of bed, you’ve got to give yourself more than 10 minutes to get in the car to go to school. Rather than rolling over three or four times, get out of bed.” And he says “It’s easy for you dad.” Because that’s just what you do. I’ve been assumed to be this bulletproof robot of a person who just makes everything so, but that’s not the way it works. I still find myself brushing my teeth in the morning and looking at myself in the mirror and criticising myself for not being planned enough for what the day holds. Maybe there’s some gray or something that I should have done and I procrastinated in the last week that I should have organised by now, my self-talk is still really critical. I want to continue to evolve on that because I’m bloody hard on myself, but at least now I’m conscious of it, I’m more conscious of it than I’ve ever been. I cut myself slack more than I ever have, I don’t want to be a robot anymore, I want to be the human that actually chooses to be in different places at different times to experience different things and be okay with that, to fall short and understand that I’ll do better next time. I think that’s something that I’m still uncomfortable with, but the self-talk for me is huge, I’ve just got to get better at it.
HM: So sum it all up for me. What do we know? Somebody asked me this the other day and I said, “What I know is I don’t know everything and what I know is every day is a challenge, but if you surround yourself with good people.”
NB: To sum it up, don’t sweat the small stuff. Everything was always huge to me. Even the small things! It’s taken like a long time to be half comfortable with not sweating the small stuff and remembering “This too shall pass”. Not everything that is bad now, will stay bad, and not everything that’s great now, will stay great. So just breathe through it and do the best you can when you can and then when you know better, do better.
HM: I love seeing you smile. You seem happy?
NB: Yeah I am. I’m good mate. I want to smile as much as I can, I want to experience as much as I can, there’s so much that there’s still left to do. I love you buddy.
To watch & listen to Nathan Buckley’s “Let’s Talk” episode and podcast, go to the new Health and Wellness App website www.WellLetsTalk.com, where you can download a free version of the App. The episode can also be viewed at aia.com.au/letstalk. Hamish McLachlan and Nathan Buckley have a financial interest in the Well Lets Talk app
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