Gypsygate was so bad I thought I’d go to jail
I’D MADE a big mistake calling Samson Lee ‘Gypsy boy’ in the England v Wales game in 2016. It didn’t matter his team-mates called him Gypsy boy. I’d called him that name with the sole purpose of p***ing him off and throwing him off his game. That was wrong of me. The Six Nations committee handed me a misconduct charge, which I deserved. I was trolled online and accused of being racist, which rattled me to the core. Eddie Jones was put under pressure to drop me from the England squad. We had the decider against France and were on our way to winning our first Grand Slam since 2003. But Eddie didn’t bow to outside pressure and didn’t drop me. That was a huge relief and I’ll always be grateful to him for that. The game was one of the highlights of my career. We thoroughly deserved to beat the French by 10 points. We played great rugby that day. I am proud of the part I played. I know I turned up and did my job well, and if I’d missed out on that opportunity I’d have been absolutely heartbroken. I was ecstatic. The beer started to flow and we had one hell of a night celebrating in Paris. I forgot all about the hideous circus that had followed me for the past couple of weeks. I assumed I’d be allowed to move on. It wasn’t to be. The trolling over Gypsygate hadn’t stopped, it had escalated. It was off the scale. World Rugby had got involved because of the continued furore, and they decided that the Six Nations committee hadn’t done enough with the misconduct charge. I was summoned to a disciplinary hearing in Canary Wharf, where I had to face three
top sports lawyers who were flown in from around the world to ‘prosecute’ me. It was a surreal and terrifying ordeal, listening to their discussion of other instances of racism at the top level of sport. I didn’t recognise myself in the same category as the other offenders but I had to accept that was where I’d stupidly landed myself. It was hard to listen to. I was sweating and shaking, and at one point it all sounded so gravely serious that I thought I might be sent to jail. The upshot was my huge £20,000 fine, plus a two-week ban. I’d much rather have had a £2,000 fine and a 20-week ban — but I couldn’t and wouldn’t appeal. I’d promised on Twitter I’d take whatever rap came my way, and I had to stand by my word. Even at the best of times it was hard for Daisy being married to me. She was doing too much on her own, too much of the time. All because of me and my ridiculous job. Why was I so selfish, putting my career above being a good husband and father? It wasn’t fair. I’d caused so much stress and upheaval and I wasn’t helping her the way I should. I knew that, but I couldn’t lift myself out of it. I’d fret and panic and then shut down as I tried to block it all out. It was a horrible cycle.