An open letter to Sonny Bill Williams

Crusaders Sonny Bill Williams fends off the tackle of Waratahs Dean Mumm. AAP Images/NZPA, Wayne Drought

Dear Sonny Bill, I’m one of your long-time supporters and, more importantly, one of your biggest defenders.

I’ve gone in to battle for you on many occasions when the ‘uninformed’ public have had a go at you, calling you “Money Bill Williams” and a “prima donna” intent on milking anyone and everyone for the best buck. I set them straight.

I was in awe of you when you burst on to the scene as an 18-year-old in 2004 when you had your debut season for the Bulldogs in the NRL.

Seeing a young Kiwi mixing it with the best in the tough world of rugby league was a treat, and I, like many others, were impressed with your calm, measured outlook and professional and humble demeanor. You were able to ‘smash ’em, bro’ like no other.

You were hot property, mate. Everyone wanted a piece of you, and still do. I heard the rumours of the huge contracts tabled to you and I was suitably impressed when you turned them all down to remain a Bulldog. Loyal and faithful, a trait not often seen in young sportspeople.

The Bulldogs were a tight unit with several players speaking out about what it meant to be part of the club, most notably your mentor Steve Price and great mate Willie Mason. You signed a five-year-deal, intent on staying there to build a dynasty with them. I could see what you were all about.

When you were done for drink driving in 2005 as a 20-year-old, it was like any other misguided teenager, finding out about life the hard way, except you were front page news, mate. Unreal really, all that publicity. You just couldn’t sneak in to court with your head down and get it all over and done with. I’m sure you craved anonymity then.

And then when you were caught out doing what many of us did as boozed up young fellas – urinating against the closest wall – all hell broke loose. You were crucified. Hung out to dry. The Bulldogs management made you issue an apology, and even more embarrassing for you, they made you ‘admit’ you had an alcohol problem and to seek treatment from Alcoholics Anonymous. Humiliating to have that broadcast on TV.

Then Pricey ups and leaves to join the Warriors; leaving the sinking Bulldog ship after the salary cap rort and the pack rape allegations. I didn’t hear too many people bag Pricey, Sonny Bill, did you? And what happened when your mate Willie took off to the Cowboys? Not too much, aye mate. Just part of the ‘game’, isn’t it?

But when enough was enough, when the Doggies failed to stand by you when you needed them and when the club fell apart, you wanted out. You left the club. “Walked out” on them as was widely reported. Mate, what a storm that created!

Rugby union beckoned. Luckily for you, you had your new best mate alongside you, ’guiding’ you. Anthony “The Man” Mundine. He paid out the Canterbury Bulldogs, enabling you to forge ahead with a union career, but at the same time, you owed him a debt.

We were all pretty excited, Sonny Bill. Heck, we had one of the greatest athletes on the planet playing our game, and we were desperate to have you play in New Zealand. But we couldn’t compete with the money on offer from France. And when all the talk surrounding you is all “about the money” then we had no hope.

But all was not lost. You turned down a multi-million dollar contract to come back to NZ, to try to make the All Blacks and to commit to rugby union. Sonny Bill, you were “The Man”.

I saw your raw potential. I knew that with some expert guidance and coaching, that you could make it in the game. Even when the media jumped on some pathetic story about you skiing when you shouldn’t have, it didn’t diminish the excitement the rugby public had of having you amongst it.

A true blue Kiwi boy, back home playing the national game. It couldn’t get better. Yet it did.

You made the All Blacks, mate. And excelled on that end of year tour, too. You more than held your own. You deserved your spot and you were welcomed in to the revered brotherhood that is being an All Black. And you seemed genuinely happy and proud to be so.

A very good Super Rugby campaign ensured a World Cup spot. But, mate, I noticed the wheels coming off slightly. I don’t know if you sensed it, noticed it or ignored it. But surely your management team must have and counselled you on it.

The boxing. I can live with that. We all have our hobbies away from the game. Richie flies. Big deal. But there was that nagging thought of why you insisted to do it during the Super Rugby season, and why, especially, during a World Cup year?

When you donated $100,000 of your own money to the Christchurch earthquake cause, we all eased off, just a little, on our thoughts.

But your game bro, your game. It hasn’t progressed. I’m not seeing the dominant second 5/8 that hits the holes and bursts through. There is no outside break that I would expect from an All Black midfield back. No explosive acceleration. Teams are working you out.

They send one tackler in low and others to wait for your trademark offload. They are shutting you down. And while your defence is solid, I haven’t seen enough of the intimidating bone jarring ball and all tackles that sends shivers down the opposition. In fact, there is no intimidation factor left now.

And just when you had us eating out of the palm of your hand,you turn around and tell us that you have reneged on your words about playing in New Zealand next year.

You tell us what we want to hear one week, then do a u-turn. Because of a sponsorship disagreement? And when your “management” team start tweeting on about you deserving a starting spot in the All Blacks and it’s all “BS” how things are being managed, you have troubles mate.

No one deserves the All Black jersey. You earn it. Players are expected to piss blood for that jersey. Players crawl over broken glass, bang heads against walls and if you are Red Conway then you cut off fingers! Colin Meads soldiered on with a broken arm. Do you remember him, Sonny Bill?

Now that you have ‘dissed’ the jersey by saying you will decide your future after the World Cup, I have lost the faith. I was wrong and I’ll freely admit it.

Prove me wrong, Sonny Bill. Do what your good mates Piri Weepu and Maa Nonu did in 2007, when they were both expected to be named in the World Cup squad that year, yet were both surprisingly overlooked.

They didn’t spit the dummy.They didn’t listen to misinformed ‘managers’. They knuckled down like real All Blacks do, and hunger drove them to get back in Black.

Show us your commitment and drive, Sonny Bill. Come out and say, “I desperately want to be an All Black. I want to sign for a franchise and play here next year.”

Then knuckle down, determined to cement a starting spot in this ABs side and win a World Cup. And then you can sit back and soak up the plaudits as a World Cup winning All Black.

Until then, pull your head out of Khoder Nasser and Mundine’s arse and get on with the job.

Kind regards, your mate and supporter,

The Shadow.