NRL rookies learning the pitfalls of professional sporting fame

YOUNG league stars are heeding the warnings, writes Josh Massoud at Bond University.

Rookie Camp - alcohol training

TEMPTATION is never far away for young footballers, but this weekend it's closer and more alluring than ever.

A five-minute taxi ride from Surfers Paradise - where thousands of school leavers are partying themselves into oblivion - almost 100 teenagers representing the Warriors, Titans, Broncos, Storm and Cowboys are thrown into the potent mix.

Of all the locations for the NRL's annual rookie camp, the Gold Coast at this time of year appears to be either a sadistic test of abstinence or woeful misjudgment.

But senior welfare and education manager Paul Heptonstall only shrugs when the obvious questions are posed.

"We don't give them any instructions or curfews," he says.

"There's no fear. We're confident that they understand the opportunity they have been given and what goes along with it. Each year, the rookies are more and more prepared for the expectations."

Heptonstall's remarkable faith is that of a man who knows something others don't appreciate, but soon will.

According to every indication, rugby league is starting to bear the first signs of the cultural revolution that administrators knew would take 10 or 15 years to occur.

University enrolments are soaring, while the incidence of horror stories about anti-social behaviour have plummeted since the darkest days of 2009.

Seven years after the inaugural rookie camp and most first graders have graduated with the benefit of intensive education about drugs, alcohol, gambling and sexual relations.

For 15 players from each club's NYC squad, it begins with this three-day crash course of interactive seminars that discuss the pitfalls of professional sporting fame with disarming candour.

Rookie Camp

High-ranking Australian Federal Police officers present the first two modules, on illicit drugs and social media, and there's no "good cop" routine from either.

Senior drug squad operative Nigel Ryan displays sickening slide shows of punctured nasal passages and bloodied faces that would even be too distasteful for modern-day cigarette packaging.

Then, chillingly, he adds: "We've got reams and reams of intelligence on high-profile people, especially footballers. People recognise you and they pick up the phone. That's what brought down Danny Wicks.

"And if you guys get caught I can guarantee that you will get a higher penalty than normal citizens.

"There's an expectation that you do the right thing."

Protestations raged just a few short years ago, but there's no longer any argument as to whether these young men are future role models.

The message about protecting their image and public perception is common to all the workshops, which include input from the likes of Preston Campbell, Alan Tongue, Nigel Vagana, Will Zillman, Ash Harrison and Dean Widders.

Rookie Camp - Nigel Vagana

At the very first rookie camp in 2005, ex-AFL players were engaged because rugby league simply didn't have the expertise. The sport has since learned a lot, some of it on the fly and with bitter consequences.

After a rookie camp three years ago, two Queensland-based NYC players had their contracts terminated when the social media session exposed unacceptable material on their Facebook pages.

Each year, the AFP's Mel Sevil accesses the accounts of every rookie and displays the most cringe-worthy findings on her projector. The stars of her most recent haul included a photograph of two naked males in a bath tub, and links to fan clubs that were degrading to women.

"I could make a mint with the stuff I've found from rugby league throughout the years," Sevil told the audience.

Rookie Camp - media training

She then asks the players to concoct the imaginary headlines that would transpire if the offending material went viral.

The challenge brings a string of embarrassed responses. The players have learned the first and most fundamental lesson: there is no worse penalty than public humiliation.

For proof, look no further than Owen Craigie. Thanks to a gambling addiction that cost him $1.5 million and two properties, the one-time Knights prodigy was yesterday's hero at the age of 27.

Reduced to sleeping on a friend's floor, he blew out to 155kg and contracted diabetes. Presenting the anti-gambling module, Craigie reveals his lowest point.

"I walked through Newcastle and people looked at me like I was a has-been," he says. "I was going through depression and having suicidal thoughts. I was lucky to come out the other side. This country survives on gambling taxes. All of you might be statistics."The next generation listens in respectful silence, which is also a common feature of the seminars.

And just as Heptonstall predicted, there were no late-night breakouts to join the hedonism that awaited just a few kilometres down the road. "I still think there's an ignorance among the general public about the depth of education we do," he says. "We could still well be five years away from changing that perception, but I'm confident we're getting there."