A sporting chance
Why I’m helping a new foundation level the playing field for disadvantaged youngsters
Exclusive | 4 min read | As told to Andy van Terheyden
The crowd was deafening, and looking up momentarily, I saw a wave of euphoria sweep the stands. Having grown up a stone’s throw from the club training ground, here I was about to score the winning try for my beloved Bath in a huge European game, with friends in the stands and hundreds of thousands watching at home.
But my dream was about to become a nightmare. I took so long to put the ball down that a Toulouse player snuck behind me and punched it out of my hands. I fell to the ground and wished it would swallow me whole.
I’d thrown away the winning try just 90 seconds after missing a simple kick at goal. We lost the game.
LAUGHING STOCK
In a flash, what should have been a pinnacle of my career became the opposite. I was the laughing stock of the game thanks to two minutes you can still readily find on YouTube under delightful titles such as ‘Freddie Burns: meltdown of the century’.
There’s no doubt something like that could have broken me. After that game, I was very low and felt I’d let a lot of people down, my teammates especially.
But the hardest thing was seeing people all over social media misjudging my delay in placing the ball for cockiness – it wasn’t. It was pure relief that I was about to right my earlier mistake.
SUPPORT
But that evening two fellow professionals helped me get myself together. Irish winger Simon Zebo messaged: ‘Nobody died,’ he said. And Tom Homer, who’d had a similar experience earlier that season, sent Theodore Roosevelt’s famous ‘man in the arena’ quote about daring to try over fear of failure.
I hadn’t heard it before, but reading it at that moment, it couldn’t have been more perfect. I decided this mistake wasn’t going to define me. I would take responsibility, absolutely, but then move on. I told myself: ‘I messed up. What next?’
Freddie kicking for Gloucester vs Newcastle in December 2011 as teammates look on. Photo: Action Plus/Alamy Stock Photo
The impact of mentors, teachers, guardians – in whatever form they take - simply can’t be underestimated. The importance of being told the right words at the right time.
It’s why I’m so proud to be an ambassador for DFY, a non-profit foundation that launches this month. Through sport and mentorship, we want to help children from areas of deprivation defy the odds or low expectations that might shackle them – to give them a sporting chance. In partnership with International Sports Consulting, DFY will send elite athletes into schools to teach sport, vital values and life lessons.
I’m honoured to be one of them. Importantly, the cause will go further by ensuring children can access ongoing mentorship through sport. When they feel confused, we’ll be there. When they feel angry, we’ll be there. When they just need someone to talk to, we’ll be there.
Freddie mentors a youngster in London. Photo: International Sports Consulting
PASSING THE BALL
For me, this programme is a chance to give back; to pass on the lessons I’ve learned from those kind enough to help me along the way.
I’m grateful for the success I’ve had in rugby, playing fly-half for Gloucester, Leicester, Bath and England, plus winning the Gilbert Golden Boot as the Premiership’s top points scorer. But I couldn’t have done that without a host of mentors along the way.
As a child, I was lucky enough to have wonderfully supportive parents who always kept me and my three brothers on the straight and narrow. We’d always have dinner round the table, with the TV off, so there was always space to talk and check in on one another.
And we were taught right from wrong. If we swore, my dad would make us drink washing up liquid – just a little spoonful, but it was enough to bring the message home!
Still, there were temptations to go astray. I’d hang out at the local skate park with friends, and at some point, the weed would come out. But my parents had taught me to make sensible choices and helped me understand the kind of focus needed to achieve things in life.
‘Professional rugby players don’t do it, so I’m not going to do it,’ I told myself, and I’d go off to the side with the ball I’d always carry around with me and start kicking it about.
Freddie scoring a try for England vs Barbarians at Twickenham in May 2013. Photo: Tim Ireland/Alamy Stock Photo
When we grew older, my dad continued to guide us. If we ate in a restaurant, he’d let us each have a little shot of Ouzo or Sambuca at the end. It was a way of allowing us that freedom so we didn’t feel constrained – but we all knew where the boundaries were.
Outside the home, I remember renowned kicking coach Dave Alred coming to my local rugby club. It was a dream for an aspiring kicker like me. I remember he began by showing me how to point the valve of the ball towards the posts; it’s the first thing I mention when I teach youngsters myself these days.
INVALUABLE INSIGHT
Years later, when I was having a tough time at Gloucester and unsure whether to move clubs, I received a call from Jonny Wilkinson. He talked about some of his own experiences, such as when he was at Newcastle but the club wasn’t in the mix for trophies.
Despite it clashing with his thirst for success, he emphasised how what he valued most was whether he was improving as a player and progressing towards his main goal of playing for England.
Though he never attempted to advise me one way or another, hearing the thought processes of someone I looked up to so much was invaluable to me at the time.
You really can’t put a price on having a support network – people to guide you or help pick you up when you’re down. But so many kids are growing up without role models like these. They might be from broken homes, perhaps without anything or anyone to aspire to.
There were 4.2 million children living in poverty in the UK in 2018-19. That’s 30 per cent of children, or nine in every classroom of 30.
Freddie coaching youngsters in London, 2020, for non-profit foundation DFY. Photo: International Sports Consulting
BRIDGING THE GAP
DFY aims to bridge that gap, helping to level the playing field for kids in the UK who might be starting life a few steps behind their peers. I remember being a youngster and watching as children from private schools were given sporting opportunities ahead of me.
There are kids starting far behind where I did, and often without the kind of supportive family I had too. There really are few better ways of teaching and instilling core values than through sport.
Rugby has taught me so much.
I’ve learned about respect. Not just respecting the opponent or the referee, but even respecting each moment. When I dallied before putting that ball down against Toulouse, I wasn’t showing that moment the respect it deserved – appreciating how lucky I was to have arrived at it.
I’ve learned how to handle mistakes. You look at suicide and self-harm rates these days – a large part of this is down to the notion that mistakes are terminal.
People are ‘cancelled’ the moment they set a foot wrong. But mistakes are not the end. We all make them. They’re a part of life and learning – you can’t achieve anything of real value without them.
As Michael Jordan famously said: ‘I’ve failed over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.’
Freddie in action for Bath Rugby at the Recreation Ground in 2017. Photo: WireStock/Alamy Stock Photo
ICEBERG
I’ve also learned that success requires persistence. Nothing is ever given to you. No one wakes up a millionaire, despite how it may seem. Most success you see on the television is just the tip of an iceberg. An iceberg of hard, hard work.
It’s important to be yourself, too. At Leicester I had a spell where I was trying to please people by playing the game they wanted of me – I was trying to be an Owen Farrell or a George Ford, but that isn’t my game and it just didn’t work. There’s nothing worse than messing up when you’re trying to be someone else.
Most of all, I’ve come to value the importance of communication. How many times do you see kids getting into trouble and it all stems from a lack of communication – whether they feel there’s no one to talk to, or that those they’re speaking to just aren’t listening?
In my worst spell at Bath, when I wasn’t getting picked, the thing I hated most was the lack of communication from the coaches. And as I’ve already said, some of my best moments, where I was able to bounce back from hardship, were helped by words from others.
It’s lessons like these that can make a real difference to children if they hear them at the right time, in their formative years. It’s why I’m so excited about the potential of DFY.
Look at Paralympic swimmer Claire Cashmore, one of my fellow ambassadors, as one example. Look at the obstacles she’s overcome and all she’s achieved. The more children who can benefit from meeting someone like her the better, in my book.
Let’s inspire the next generation to aim high and equip them to overcome the barriers they’ll inevitably encounter, whether due to birth and circumstance, socio-economic factors or whatever else along the way.
Like this article? Please help us commission more like it by donating the cost of a cuppa on Ko-fi. Sharing this article on your social media, and following us on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter are also a great way to support our independent, self-funded platform.
We encourage debate, but trolls are not welcome. Please read our comments policy before contributing.