Men's Health (UK)

Lions King

- Photograph­y by Hamish Brown

Having helped Saracens back to the Premiershi­p and named Player of the Series in last summer’s Lions tour, England’s Maro Itoje starts this month’s Six Nations tournament on a roll. But as associates will tell you, Itoje is more than just a rugby player. Here, with Alastair Campbell, he talks brains, brawn and leadership

Welcome to a new Men’s Health series, Talking Heads. Don’t worry, this isn’t just an excuse for me to bang on about mental health – though there will be a bit of that. It’s a series of interviews with fascinatin­g people, with special focus on the mental and psychologi­cal side of what they do. Inevitably that means sport will figure large. It’s odd, when you think about it, that people in sport, primarily a physical enterprise, seem to take the psychologi­cal side of things more seriously than people in politics or business, activities that are primarily cerebral.

My first guest is Maro Itoje. Perhaps the country’s best known English rugby player since Jonny Wilkinson, certainly England’s most prominent black player, and with an image far removed from the rugby clichés of old. He doesn’t like beer, for a start. He’s a big man with a soft voice and a thoughtful manner; an art collector; a student with a degree in politics, who’s now studying for an MBA between training, matches and his numerous off-field sponsorshi­p, charity and media activities; an Old Harrovian private school boy with deeply progressiv­e views; and a proud Englishman, who is prouder still of his Nigerian heritage.

I have known Itoje, now 27, since he first started to interest the England selectors, when team manager Richard Hill brought him to my house to discuss leadership, teamship and strategy, based on my experience in politics, and my analysis for a book on winning. He was bright, confident, informed and inquisitiv­e. He’s a deep thinker, about many things other than sport, and we have kept in touch.

I also did an event on mental health with him and his Saracens teammates, part of the greater openness about the mind across sport. After he collected me from the Tube, and then made me a perfect cup of tea, that theme, the linking of the mental and the physical, is where we began our discussion, at the north London home he shares with his older brother Jeremy.

AC: If you had to give percentage­s on what makes you a successful athlete, how much for mental, how much for physical?

MI: Wow! (Long pause.) I would say

70% mental. Obviously if I didn’t have physical attributes I would not be a rugby player. I’d maybe be a journalist or politician. (Laughs.) I was fairly late to rugby and it didn’t come naturally to me. Speak to coaches from when

I was 12 to 15, they would say I was tall, strong and athletic, but there were players far more talented than I was.

But I surpassed them and had more success due to how much attention I paid to consistenc­y, work ethic, my mental approach to the game.

AC: Define your mental approach. MI: I would say that I make no excuses but leave no stone unturned. I do whatever I can to be in a position to perform at my best.

AC: Can there be a ‘good defeat’?

MI: Fortunatel­y, none of the teams

I play for expect to lose any games.

With Saracens, we are competing for honours in England and Europe. With England, we are going out to win the

Six Nations, World Cup, overseas tours. With the Lions, the aim is to win every game. So every defeat hurts. If we lose, of course it is partly because the other team does well, but I always believe it is about us – that we did not play as well as we can, we were not at our best.

AC: Which of these statements do you subscribe to more? ‘I love winning’ or ‘I hate losing’.

MI: I hate losing.

AC: It’s amazing how many successful sports stars say that.

MI: You can take winning for granted. Losing ruins everything. I try not to ride the wave of the winning and losing cycle, but it is inevitable. If you’re not careful, you lose control over your emotional state and how you feel.

AC: Do you need emotion to play well? MI: You do.

AC: So how do you separate good and bad emotion?

MI: By being within reason. If you go so high with the highs and so low with the lows, you are not stable and that affects how you train, it affects your

‘Every defeat hurts, but I try not to ride that wave of winning and losing’

‘Everyone has the scope for leadership. You just have to find a way that works for you’

consistenc­y, it affects relationsh­ips outside. It can be all encompassi­ng, so you’re either super happy or super sad. I try to hover and not ride the wave.

AC: You’re an Arsenal fan. You once told me about a game when Theo Walcott scored an amazing goal and you went crazy. Then Liverpool went on to win the game and you felt so crushed that you took a decision there and then not to get so emotionall­y invested in something you couldn’t control. Can you just switch emotions off like that?

MI: Two things stand out there for me. In life, you can only control what you can control. I can’t control what you do. I can’t control what others say about me. I can only control what I do and make peace with that, make peace with who you are and try to do the right thing by who you are. So that is one part of the answer. Another part is, if you want to do something, just get on with it. Moping and sulking and dilly-dallying may have a place, but you have to get on with it.

AC: Have you ever had what I would define as depression?

MI: No, but I know players who have.

AC: When I did that talk at Saracens, I sensed one or two who were struggling. Do you think rugby is more open than other sports?

MI: The rhetoric around it has changed from when I first played. People are more open, they talk about feelings, ask how you feel – and mean it.

AC: So no saying ‘man up’? Has that gone?

MI: Not gone, but things are better.

AC: If you were struggling, would you feel able to tell the coach?

MI: I would definitely feel there was someone in the organisati­on I could go to. I don’t think it was always like that.

AC: Define your own temperamen­t.

MI: Generally well-balanced. I am a cautious person by nature. I am deeply thoughtful, prone to overthinki­ng, maybe.

AC: Including in the game?

MI: Including in the game, yes.

AC: How does that affect you on the field?

MI: It means it can take me longer to make a decision than it should. I might think something needs to be said, but I overthink and instead of saying it, I hold back, when the right thing would be to say it straight out.

AC: Is that what [England coach] Eddie Jones meant when he said you are maybe too reserved to be a captain?

MI: (Pause, smile, pause.) Well, you know Eddie, you have his number, so you will have to ask him what he meant.

AC: I presume you were disappoint­ed that he chose to put that kind of criticism into a book? MI: (Laughs.) So… how can I put this? (Pause.)

AC: Would you like me to advise you on how to answer tricky questions without upsetting your boss? I have some experience here.

MI: Eddie and I have spoken about the comments, and I think if you spoke to him, he would clarify what’s in the book.

AC: I am guessing you don’t think coaches should write books about players they are currently coaching? MI: (Laughs.) Next question.

AC: Was there something in the central point, that you are very selfcontai­ned, very discipline­d about your performanc­e, and that makes you focused on yourself rather than driving others, as leaders do?

MI: I understand but disagree. I have read your Winners book and you’d agree there are different styles of leadership. There is no one way to lead. Tony Blair led differentl­y to Gordon Brown, or to Margaret Thatcher.

AC: Let alone the current clown.

MI: He is very different, yeah.

(Laughs.) Even looking at Tony

Blair and Margaret Thatcher, take the politics out of it and it’s fair to say they were two very good leaders, but very different. Or look at basketball: Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, LeBron James – all leaders of their teams, all different. Everyone has scope for leadership and you have to find the way it works for you.

AC: An excellent diplomatic response to Mr Jones, Mr Itoje.

You once told me that you try to hurt people, but legitimate­ly. So that means they are trying to hurt you. Do you fear getting injured?

MI: I would never go into a game thinking I might get injured.

I might sometimes think about the ramificati­ons of getting a serious injury, but never when playing.

AC: What are the limits of the pain you can inflict on others?

MI: Anything within the law. There are no limits to how hard you can hit in a tackle, how hard you run at an opponent when ball-carrying. You don’t set out to break bones. But you hit them as hard as you can. Collision is part of the sport. If you dominate the collisions, your team is on the front foot, so you have a better chance to win.

AC: Do you ever feel fear in those really physical situations?

MI: No. There was just once in my whole career when I went, ‘Oh shit!’ when I knew a collision was coming. I was 19 or 20. We had a kick-off,

Alesana Tuilagi caught the ball –

I can’t remember if it was when he was at Leicester or Newcastle – and he looks up, comes running at me, high knees, fast, and I was thinking, ‘This is really, really going to hurt.’ But I made the tackle. It was okay in the end.

AC: A lot of top sportsmen and women really struggle when they leave the sport. Are you thinking about post-rugby life yet?

MI: A lot.

AC: So what seat are you going for? MI: (Laughs.) I started thinking about post-rugby a few years ago. How you transition, what I might do, how to have a stable financial situation. People find the transition so hard, so it’s important to plan ahead. I try not to be identified exclusivel­y as a rugby player.

AC: Is that why you do so much outside rugby?

MI: Partly. I don’t want to just be a rugby player. I am known as that, obviously, but I was Maro Itoje before I was a rugby player.

AC: Do you dread being known for the rest of your life as an ‘ex-rugby player’, like I am ‘Tony Blair’s exright-hand man’?

MI: I want to be a success in a sphere independen­t from rugby. I’m interested in politics, I am interested in business, I am interested in certain charities, I am interested in art. I would want to keep a connection to rugby, but I won’t be a coach, I wouldn’t want to be a pundit. I’d maybe do a World Cup or a Lions tour, but not on the circuit.

AC: So of those – politics, business, charity, art – which holds the greatest appeal?

MI: I see myself doing a bit of all of them, a portfolio existence. I will have my business exploits, I will have my charity interests, maybe delve into a couple of NGOs… who knows?

AC: Is racism a mental health issue? If someone is subject to racist abuse, is that detrimenta­l to mental health? MI: 100%. Being subject to racism attacks your character – the very essence of who you are – and you have no control.

AC: So when someone asks you where the milk is when you’re in Waitrose…

MI: It has happened so often in my life. I’ll be shopping in the supermarke­t and because

I’m black, people think I work there… you become numb to it after a while.

AC: Does it linger?

MI: That form of conscious-bias racism, although aggressive, is fairly low-level. Other types of racism, such as direct racial abuse, leave more of an imprint. I have received that, for sure.

AC: When it happens, are you not tempted just to lay them out?

MI: When I was growing up, I watched a lot of American TV. People would use the N-word a lot and you would see visceral outbursts, fights breaking out. For me, I have never done that, because it is so far from how I see myself. I don’t want to give anyone the power of feeling they can make me react in a certain way. If someone makes a racial slur, it’s more reflective of them than me.

AC: Has it ever happened in a match?

MI: Not to me, but I know it’s happened to others.

AC: If it happened to you, would you expect your white teammates to get involved?

MI: Sometimes these things are said quietly, but if it was loud enough and happened to me, I know my teammates would speak up for me, for sure. Sport is interestin­g, in that it tends to be more meritocrat­ic than many other walks of life.

I am aware my experience is different to the way other black people will be treated.

AC: If you were racially abused by the crowd, would you walk off ?

MI: Context is everything. I would have to give that further thought. Two immediate arguments come to my mind. First, the whole game should stop if there is abuse among the crowd. If it is one or two people, remove them. Second,

I don’t want to give [racial abusers] the power over you as to when you do or don’t play.

AC: When [former education secretary]

Gavin Williamson confused you with Marcus Rashford, was that because he knows nothing about sport, or because he thinks all black people look the same?

MI: This goes contrary to the narrative, but I actually believe it was a genuine mistake.

AC: How can he make that mistake? The two of you don’t look alike.

MI: No, we don’t look alike, we don’t speak alike, but I think it must have been a long interview, he got sidetracke­d and confused. I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. When we spoke, he knew I was me, not Marcus Rashford. The main culprits here are mainstream media. Black athletes are

‘I don’t want anyone to have the power of feeling they can make me react a certain way’

often getting reported as someone else. You see a picture of Anthony Joshua and they say it is Anthony Watson. In rugby, Ellis Genge and Lewis Ludlam have been mistaken for each other numerous times.

AC: Why were you meeting Williamson?

MI: We didn’t meet. It was over Zoom. I was doing the digital divide campaign to get more tablets into schools.

AC: He didn’t ask you what it was like playing with Martial and Pogba?

MI: He did not.

AC: How else does the media fall short in its reporting of race?

MI: A lot of it is about the language and the imagery. A white teenager gets murdered and we hear about the great kid from a loving family; a black teenager gets murdered and it’s all about gangs and hoodies.

AC: In your house, you cannot be here for more than a minute before noticing your love for African art. Is that just because you like it more than other art, or because of your background? MI: A bit of both. African art speaks to my soul. I have a level of connection to it that is deeper than other artwork. I appreciate all art forms, but I have a real connection with this.

AC: If I gave you a Picasso, would you take one of these down and replace it?

MI: I would take it to an auction house! (Laughs.) Or maybe keep it for two years and then sell. Even with Picasso, a brilliant artist, or someone like Banksy today, I see the beauty in what they do, but I am not as connected as I am to these Nigerian pieces. They are all from Nigeria, every single one. Whenever I go there, I make a conscious effort to visit the galleries.

AC: Did you ever get racially abused at Harrow? MI: No. There was a fairly big black community at Harrow, a lot of Nigerians and other minority ethnic people.

AC: Do you think class is a mental health issue? MI: All discrimina­tion is detrimenta­l.

AC: If I abuse Old Etonians for ruining the country, is that the same as the rich looking down on the poor?

MI: Abuse is abuse and it’s wrong whatever, but it’s a different power dynamic. When a perceived upper-class person looks down on someone they see as lower class, it has systemic ramificati­ons. When lowerclass people abuse the elites, while the abuse is still wrong, it doesn’t have the same structural ramificati­ons. Topdown abuse is more damaging.

AC: I have just read Sad Little Men

by Richard Beard, which is about the damage done to kids sent away to school and the damage done to the country because of it. Johnson and Cameron figure large. What is your take on the role of private education in our national life?

MI: I go back and forth on this a lot. There is a place for them, but they have a responsibi­lity to do more for the communitie­s in which they sit, and the other schools in those communitie­s. Was it in Spider-Man when Uncle Ben said, ‘with great power comes great responsibi­lity’? They have enormous resources and capacity and I don’t believe they should sit by themselves and care for themselves.

AC: Can Johnson even begin to understand what levelling up means if that is the kind of education he had, which is so out of reach of most people?

MI: It’s for him to define what he means by ‘levelling up’.

AC: He won’t talk to me. (Itoje laughs.) What is your take on the current political situation?

MI: I feel as if we are in a state where we don’t have a government that is impressive, but the opposition is not making a compelling enough case. If there was an election tomorrow, I think the Tories would win.

AC: Last time you told me you voted Lib Dem. What about now?

MI: I would vote Labour this time. I think Keir Starmer is a serious politician. He doesn’t have the charisma of Johnson, but he is a serious and more endearing politician, with a deeper feel and affection for the country.

AC: Is there anything else you would like to say?

MI: Do you want another cup of tea?

 ?? ?? Alastair Campbell Journalist, mental health campaigner and Men’s Health contributi­ng editor
Alastair Campbell Journalist, mental health campaigner and Men’s Health contributi­ng editor
 ?? ?? Thoughtful both on and off the field, Itoje is a breaker of moulds
Thoughtful both on and off the field, Itoje is a breaker of moulds
 ?? ?? Itoje credits his success more to mental strength rather than physical ability
Itoje credits his success more to mental strength rather than physical ability
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 ?? ??
 ?? ?? Focusing only on the things that are within his control has allowed Itoje to move ever forward
Focusing only on the things that are within his control has allowed Itoje to move ever forward
 ?? ?? Itoje is already planning for his life after his rugbyplayi­ng career
Itoje is already planning for his life after his rugbyplayi­ng career
 ?? ??

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