Petrus is back on front line
He used to lap up the ecstasy found from flinging a hammer and an athletics career that scored him a pair of Commonwealth Games bronzes and a dream trip to the Rio 2016 Olympics.
Now it’s been replaced by endless agony – because of “a moment of panic” that led to a four-year ban which stunned the athletics world and reduced the man mountain from Moray to a helpless wreck.
The 32-year-old has been lumped in with sport’s dodgy dopers despite not even a hint he’s ever taken anything stronger than a heavy-duty painkiller.
But he’s vowing to fight to clear his name despite revealing that legal bills and career catastrophes have pushed him to the brink of going bust.
All because of the “little white lie” he told on October 15, 2018 when drugs testers rocked up at his house in Leicestershire while he was up in the Highlands visiting his parents.
Olympic hopefuls are supposed to enter their whereabouts on the ADAMS system that allows them to be tested at random but the Scot had forgotten to pin down his trip.
“Where were you, they asked?”. “Gone fishing”, he fibbed.
A neighbour, unwittingly, had dobbed him in. UK Anti-Doping accused Dry of telling a whopper. He quickly fessed up.
He sighed: “It was like a kid throwing a rubber across the classroom and you catch him doing it and say, ‘ Did you just throw that?’ And they go ‘nah’.
“It was just a knee-jerk reaction. And then I went back on it – and that was it.”
Missing one test usually means a slap on the wrist. In theory, he could have skipped five and still not picked up an automatic ban. A panel threw the case out but UKAD decided to appeal. Their chief executive Nicole Sapstead insists Dry’s fib was a “serious breach of the rules” which “undermines the anti-doping process”. In February, he was found guilty of “tampering” – an offence more usually associated with Russian medics sneakily sl ipping doctored samples through holes in a wall.
His supporters argue the penalty doesn’t fit the crime. Dry still can’t process how life’s been turned upside down. He said: “I almost feel like I’d rather have been a drug cheat. I wouldn’t really – but you can at least accept you’ve got caught for doing something stupid that is against the rules and have to deal with it.
“But to be accused o f tampering, and be given four years for something that isn’t tampering and it can’t be applied as tampering … they are saying it is under the rules. But it’s not.”
Over the years he’s become used to pain – but not like this.
He had a series of hip surgeries following nights in bed which reduced him to tears. Days like his moment in the sun in Gold Coast in 2018 came while his body was falling apart.
Seven weeks before the door knock that changed everything, he’d gone under the knife yet again.
The recovery process, he insists, completely messed with his mind. He said: “I was on all the painkillers – gabapentin and stuff like that. My leg was hanging off. I was in agony 24 hours a day. I was bad. I was depressed. I didn’t go to a GP.
“At the hearing they went, ‘Can you prove that you were depressed?’. I’m like, no.
“But I’ve gone from being an Olympic athlete to having a f***ing massive hole in my leg and I’m told I’ll never compete again. And this is the end of the road for me.
“I’m a big hammer thrower. There’s that Scottish reputation, that stigma in mental health. I don’t want to go to a psychologist and be labelled a lunatic or depressed or admit I’ve got a problem.
“I was in a really bad way. I was boozing. It just hurt less when
I was on it. I was forgetting names and sentences and ever y thing else.
“I just was not thinking straight. I was on a different planet.”
To add insult to his injuries, the
C o v id -19 shutdown’s c o s t h im bot h h i s jobs – in the events trade and as a trained masseur.
The ban means that he’s barred from treating athletes, in another huge hit to his wallet.
While his lawyers desperately want to get him throwing again, they certainly don’t come cheap.
He said: “I had to borrow from my mum’s pension up front, then I had to work absolutely ballistically through 2019 to try and get enough to pay off what I owe there.
“And I still owe a lot of money. I’ve maxed out mine and my missus’ overdraft. We are not in a good spot.”
Yet, it might all be for nothing. Mark wants the Cour t of Arbitration for Sport to hear his case and fix a glitch in the system that surely needs repaired.
Their rules mean he can’t just knock on their door.
Instead, a body like UK Athletics or the World Anti-Doping Agency must lend their support to him.
So far, no one has offered to back his appeal.
But he said: “This isn’t about my case any more. This is about athletes’ rights and abuse of power and misapplication of rules. This could happen to anyone.”
The odds are long on Dry’s rage against the machine paying out.
And the clock is ticking towards Tokyo in 2021 and the chance to become an Olympian again.
He promises he won’t give up, no matter the physical and financial pain. He said: “If I can get this over
turned, I will make that team.”
Petrus du Plessis was no shrinking violet on the field – but it’s off it where the Saracens legend is facing down his toughest opponent.
The Glasgow Warriors scrum coach first moved to England to study in 2001 and qualified as a physiotherapist before making his name in professional rugby union.
And when the rugby season was suspended in March, du Plessis’s career came full circle with the 38-year-old returning to the NHS ranks in the fight against Covid-19 at Arran and Ayrshire Hospital.
He said: “I initially planned to be in England for only a couple of years, but I soon met with wife Lisa and then qualified as a physio before working in the NHS.
“I’m in the neurological ward and everyone – physios, doctors and nurses – is pulling together.
“Through the Chartered Society of Physiotherapy, I read about physios being recruited in local areas. I applied online and was placed just south of Glasgow.
“My wife Lisa is a psychotherapist and psychiatric nurse and has gone back to work in mental health.”
His coaching work for the Warriors has earned du Plessis plenty of admirers and he said: “Glasgow’s scrum was less functional before I came but now we’re in the top five in Europe.
“I specialise in neck strengthening and trying to reduce concussion. There are guys here who will be world-class players.”
Du Plessis has been watching Saracens’ dramatic demise with great sadness.
His old club were relegated from the Premiership for repeated salary cap breaches but he said: “I don’t think they went out of their way to cheat – they were business deals that were highly scrutinised.
“Sarries love a challenge so I hope they can come straight back up.”
Du Plessis has also enjoyed various cameo roles as an actor over the years.
He said: “I’ve worked with some world-class stars and I was in awe at how they can be so normal but perform so differently on set.
“Rugby is similar to that – we are all generally pretty nice guys off the field but horrible b******s on it!
“The more opportunities you make for yourself, the further you’ll go in life.”