I LOST EVERYTHING — MY HOUSE, MY CAR, MY FRIENDS, MY JOB

Gloucester star opens up on what drove him to cheat, the despair of a two-year drug ban... and redemption

THERE is a brief exchange of messages before arriving at Gerbrandt Grobler’s regency-style apartment in Cheltenham.

‘ Hi Gerbrandt. Does midday work for you?’

GG: ‘All good man. No issue. What’s the interview going to be about?’ ‘Everything: past, present and future.’ GG: ‘Perfect. I like that. Cheers man.’ His WhatsApp profile picture shows him smiling broadly in a khaki ranger’s shirt, somewhere in the African countryside. It turns out he grew up in the heart of the South African bush, where his father was head vet in the Kruger Park. His living room is decorated with colourful paintings of wild beasts and a picture of his father tranquillising a leopard... then there is the zebra skin rug on the exposed wooden floor.

‘Do you think it contradicts?’ he asks, brewing a pot of rooibos tea with honey.

‘If an animal gets killed, people get paid, people get food. All the meat gets eaten. Here, people eat pork or beef. Different country, different culture, you know? Africa is different to the UK. My dad was a top wildlife ranger so conservation is a big thing. Sensitive subject, isn’t it?’

Showing admirable honesty, Grobler, 26, is about to address another sensitive subject: his two- year doping ban for steroids. First, however, he shares stories from his childhood in the bush. He recalls the floods of 2000 — ‘people’s belongings washed up in the river and it was like a giant treasure hunt’ — and the time he was almost killed by a herd of elephants when he ran away from home for an afternoon.

‘I hid up this big tree for about two hours, crying,’ he chuckles with an Afrikaans twang. ‘They could smell me. Me, my rucksack and my favourite toy. S***!’

Fast forward 20 years and Grobler now finds himself playing for Gloucester. He lives the single life, a stone’s throw from the local bars. He enjoys spontaneous drives through the Cotswolds, which he can see from his balcony, with his South African team-mate Franco Marais.

He is drinking in the last-chance saloon. His ban was issued in 2014, when he tested positive for the steroid drostanolone, but he was given a second chance. He does not dodge questions about the subject, even if his experience raises questions about attitudes towards drugs in South Africa.

His answer to the first question lasts 29 minutes and is 2,198 words long. He puts down his rooibos and answers his own questions: How? Why? What if?

‘I learned so much during those two years. So much. Before, I had everything: a house, a car, good friends. Sorry... “good friends”,’ he says, turning his fingers into quote marks. ‘Everything was there but, as soon as it went t**s up, the house, the car, the friends, the girls were all gone. During those two years I learned who my real friends were. Those two years made me who I am.’

Shortly before the ban, Grobler was starring for Western Province and tipped to play for the Springboks. The next Victor Matfield. But he broke down — crumbled — under the real-life pressures of professional sport.

‘I’d had really bad ankle and shoulder surgery,’ he says. ‘I was in a moonboot and wearing two slings. My life was in and out of theatre. Nine surgeries in a year. I was taken by pain pil l s completely. Painkillers, OxyContin, those kind of things. You get given them, you take them, I really liked them. You’ve got to be honest about it: I was hooked on it, mate, I’ll be straight. When I woke up in the morning that was the first thing I wanted.’

Addicted? ‘Straight up. Definitely. It’s a drug. I was taking them but I wasn’t getting better. I was doing all my rehab but I wasn’t improving. I wa s g e t t i n g we a k e r. I wasn’t getting what I had to get.

‘If someone says, “You need to get bigger. You need to get bigger. You need to get bigger. You need to get stronger. If you don’t do this your contract’s going to be up. If you don’t do this we’re not going to sign you again. If you don’t do this you’re going to lose your job. You’re a s**t rugby player. You’re not big enough”, then after a while you think, “I’m training extra hours every night, I’m gyming on my own, I’m running on my own, what more can I do?” It forces you to go against your best intentions. I was hooked on pain pills, I was downward spiralling and I’d done everything I could. I had contractual issues; was I going to sign again? Eventually my back was against the wall.

‘I approached quite a lot of people and said, “What should I do? How can I get better?” I took something and I tested positive. I wasn’t trying to get bigger and stronger to have an edge, that’s what people associate with steroids. I was trying to get out of where I was and back to where I used to be. All I wanted was that feeling of “Wow, I can move my arms again. Wow, I can run again. Wow, I feel like a rugby player again”. I took steroids for two and a half weeks but I couldn’t do it any more. I felt like I was hiding from someone or something. I just left it.’

The plan made sense in Grobler’s head. He would not play again in the 2014 season and during the off season the drugs would leave his system and he would become ‘ clean’ again. That all changed, however, when his club suffered a run of injuries before the Currie Cup final.

‘Two locks got injured and I got a call saying, “Would you be able to play?”’ he explains. ‘Which 23-year-old would say no? In my head, I thought “I’ve just got to get through this one game then I’ve got three months to get clean”. It was all set up in my head. I guess I was young and naive. I played in the final at Newlands and we won. I walked off the field and, bang, I got tested. The drug guys come along, you sign some paperwork and my whole heart just sank. I just thought, “S**t, I think I am absolutely f***ed right now”. I knew it. I knew I was done. Everyone was celebrating, drinking beers, absolutely happy. I was crushed. I walked up to the coaches, shook their hands and said, “I’m being tested and I think I’m going to test positive”. They said “Nah, you won’t!” I went to the doctor and said, “Doc, I’m done”.’

A urine sample was taken in a back room as his team-mates celebrated.

‘With the drug testers, you’re usually clean if you don’t hear back after three weeks,’ he says. ‘If you don’t hear anything from them, you’re clean. I didn’t sleep properly for three weeks. I was on a knife-edge thinking, “S**t,

‘I WAS HOOKED ON THE PAIN PILLS, I WAS IN A DOWNWARD SPIRAL’