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Australian sport has its straight-shooters like Anthony Mundine and Paul Gallen, but no one can quite match the brutal honesty of Gavet. And, possibly, few are as courageous as the Brisbane Broncos recruit.
Spend an hour with Gavet and there is no topic off-limits as he delivers a searing examination of his soul; his life’s journey a horrific fusion of tragedy, despair, tears, torment … and, finally, hope.
Sitting on a log bench at the Broncos’ training base at Red Hill, Gavet’s soft, mellifluous voice is the antithesis of a life of chaos and carnage.
He radiates honesty as he talks about his attempt at suicide, found by his mates in a pool of blood in an Auckland football stadium after slashing his wrists and missing his main artery by the width of a hair follicle.
James Gavet built a reputation as a hard runner at the Tigers.
He opens up about being briefly homeless at 17, forced to sleep in a cemetery in a school uniform he didn’t wash, finding solace lying beside his grandfather’s grave.
Gavet shakes with sadness at the tragic loss of former Wests Tigers teammate Mosese Fotuaika, revealing the 20-year-old asked him what it felt like to attempt suicide shortly before taking his own life.
He reflects on depression, smoking marijuana at primary school, running with gangs, the perils of peer pressure and standing knee-deep in sewerage as a Kiwi labourer trying to dig his way out of a drunken stupor.
“Everyone has a journey ... some people’s lives are tougher than others,”
By rights, Gavet nods, he should be dead, or in jail with many of his childhood gangster friends. Yet here he stands today, signed by one of the most professional clubs in Australian sport, healing the scar tissue laid bare in a smattering of marks along his left wrist.
“Everyone has a journey ... some people’s lives are tougher than others,” says Gavet, who moved to Brisbane last month after being signed by Broncos coach Wayne Bennett.
“For me, this is a new start, the chance to put my life on the right path.
“Given the life experience I have, I feel happy to be where I’m at.
“People talk about rugby league being tough. But the hard stuff on the footy field doesn’t really compare to the things I’ve seen and experienced.”
To understand Gavet’s heartbreaking journey, the Broncos import says you need to understand life in Mount Roskill, the south Auckland suburb where volcanic activity is not restricted to the mountains that overlook the region.
He joined a gang dubbed the JDK. Childhood friend Manu Ma’u, now an NRL star at Parramatta, was also a member.
Such was his tribal commitment, Gavet had the gang’s insignia tattooed to the back of his head. Today, he keeps his hair long, concealing any link to a past he cannot fully erase.
“In the neighbourhood I was from, you have to understand the peer pressures,” he says.
“It’s all about street cred. The more feared you are, the less you have to fight. So you have no choice to be tough really. If you can fight, people will leave you alone. If you show weakness, you are finished.
“I smoked pot in primary school, I was smoking cigarettes and, at 12, I had my first drink.
“We all thought it was cool and we ended up forming a gang. Looking back, it was really small-minded, but at that age you don’t know better.
“Peer pressure was huge and if you weren’t in the in-crowd, you were considered a nobody. The problem with being in the in-crowd is you had to do certain things to stay in there.
“The drinking was part of that.”
Intoxicated by weekly parties with peers and the gangster life, it all seemed strangely normal for Gavet. Alcoholism flowed through the family DNA.
Gavet recalls his dad being an alcoholic, giving up booze only after an ultimatum from his wife, and claims his extended family would “drink to get wasted”.
In his final year at school, Gavet’s world began to unravel. His life consumed by alcohol, Gavet fell out with his parents and was kicked out of home. Too ashamed to reach out for help, he put the shutters up and suffered in silence.
“I lived on the streets for a week and a half,” he recalls.
If you can fight, people will leave you alone. If you show weakness, you are finished.
“I still went to school. I would shower during PE class and then sleep in a cemetery, I’d sleep next to my grandfather’s grave. I’d get drunk next to his grave, pass out, and then wake up for school the next day.
“I was terrified at night, I remember once getting chased by gothic people doing chants, but it was the only place that felt like home because my grandfather was there for me.
“During the day a cemetery can be peaceful and quite ambient. I enjoyed that silence.”
But if Gavet tried to run, he couldn’t hide from the demons lurking within. When the famous rugby school he attended missed the finals for the first time in 25 years, Gavet, as First XV captain, bore the brunt of the blame.
At the same time, he went through a bust-up with his partner. The last straw came when he was embroiled in a drunken brawl with his best mate at a house party.
Alcohol eroding any sound judgment, Gavet could take no more.
“I just remember not wanting to be around any more,” Gavet recalls.
“I ran off to a football stadium, smashed a bottle and began to cut away at my arm and face.
“I still have the scars on my left arm. My mates ended up finding me in the stadium. I’d lost a heap of blood and apparently I blacked out.
“The next morning, I woke up in hospital. I needed 40 stitches to my arm and the doctor said, ‘You are lucky, you have missed your main artery by a hairline’.
“In that moment, all I felt was anger. Angry to still be alive. I was thinking why can’t they let me go? I was ready to leave and I couldn’t understand why I didn’t die.”
Today, Gavet feels dismay; a sense of detachment from the tortured soul he once knew.
Upon his release from hospital, Gavet was diagnosed with depression and began a rehabilitation course to help pick up the pieces.
At age 20, he fathered a son, James Jr, whom he regards as the light in his life. But winning the battle with booze has been akin to conquering Everest. Last year, after a 12-year struggle with the demon drink, Gavet successfully completed the 100-day sober challenge.
Since his move to the Broncos, Gavet hasn’t touched a drop. And while he isn’t turning teetotaller, he has found a semblance of control over the substance that largely controlled him.
“I definitely have gotten past it. Alcohol was a real addiction,” he says.
“As soon as it touched my lips, I would want to drink until midday the next day.
“At my worst, me and my brother would buy two cartons of beer — that’s 48 cans — two bottles of wine and one litre of Jack Daniels (whiskey). We’d finish all that before we went out, we’d drink that in about three-and-a-half hours.
“We’d play card games and just drink. Looking back, it was crazy. I can only imagine what my liver looks like.
“It was all a temporary fix. For that moment, however long you are drunk, the dramas of the day are blotted out. But in the morning you feel 10 times worse. You are low on energy, you are hungover and it’s still on your mind.”
The turning point came last year, sparked by the deepest tragedy. At his former club the Tigers, Gavet lost his close mate Fotuaika. The pair shared a Polynesian bond. They laughed together, trained together ... then one day Fotuaika was gone, taken by his own hand.
Devastated, Gavet turned to a familiar crutch. Alcohol was the panacea, briefly dulling the pain. But times had changed. Life had imposed responsibility. He now opened his eyes each morning to a young boy who needed his father, preferably sober.
“Losing Mosese hit me really heavy,” he says.
“To make things worse, I was injured at the time, so I couldn’t play, and I was stuck in a rut.
“I’m proud to say I did the 100-day sober. It was tough at first but I ended up making it through quite easily. I’ve had two drinks since and they were both with family back in Auckland. I have learnt how to have a couple these days, whereas in the past I couldn’t have a couple.
James Gavet keeps his hair long to cover a tattoo linked to his past. Pic: Brett Costello
“I miss Mosese so much. You know what ... he asked me what it was like to try and take your life and I wish I could have given him the right words.
“I said, ‘Bro, why are you asking this?’ He said, ‘No reason ... just curious’.
“I thought nothing of it because while he was quiet, he seemed happy. Being Islanders, we had an instant connection. I was there the day he tore his pec at training and he went to the physio in tears.
“We had our little corner in the changeroom, we sat next to each other and had our little handshake. He was like my little brother.”
Foutaika now rests at Brisbane’s Mt Gravatt cemetery, and Gavet’s move to the Broncos gives him the chance to visit his Polynesian blood brother.
Now 25, Gavet accepts he is not your typical Broncos player. Most are straight-laced, quintessential Queensland country boys largely insulated from the ruthless, poverty-stricken, streetfighting environment in which Gavet was reared.
But Gavet is adamant the Broncos have not inherited a problem child. If anything, he can be a poster boy for reformation. He wants troubled youth to know, in their darkest moments, there is always a ray of hope.
“I’m not ashamed of my story,” Gavet says.
“My life has taught me that things don’t always come on a silver platter. Sometimes you aren’t ready in life. Sometimes you fall and you learn the hard way.
“I know I can’t run away from my past, but I know I can learn from it.
“I thought my dreams were done and dusted. I was working as a labourer doing the sewerage, so I was in the trenches literally digging shit.
“For any kids out there, I went from that life to pro football.
“I know what it’s like to have nothing, which is why I’m grateful to Wayne Bennett and the Broncos for giving me this chance.
“I don’t take anything for granted any more. It feels great to be a father, to have the joy of a child ... and now I can say I feel blessed to be alive.”
- If you’re struggling with stress or depression, support is available. Call Lifeline 24 hours a day on 131 114 or Beyond Blue on 1300 22 46 36.
Originally published as James Gavet’s story: ‘I should be dead’
Spend an hour with Gavet and there is no topic off-limits as he delivers a searing examination of his soul; his life’s journey a horrific fusion of tragedy, despair, tears, torment … and, finally, hope.
Sitting on a log bench at the Broncos’ training base at Red Hill, Gavet’s soft, mellifluous voice is the antithesis of a life of chaos and carnage.
He radiates honesty as he talks about his attempt at suicide, found by his mates in a pool of blood in an Auckland football stadium after slashing his wrists and missing his main artery by the width of a hair follicle.
James Gavet built a reputation as a hard runner at the Tigers.
He opens up about being briefly homeless at 17, forced to sleep in a cemetery in a school uniform he didn’t wash, finding solace lying beside his grandfather’s grave.
Gavet shakes with sadness at the tragic loss of former Wests Tigers teammate Mosese Fotuaika, revealing the 20-year-old asked him what it felt like to attempt suicide shortly before taking his own life.
He reflects on depression, smoking marijuana at primary school, running with gangs, the perils of peer pressure and standing knee-deep in sewerage as a Kiwi labourer trying to dig his way out of a drunken stupor.
“Everyone has a journey ... some people’s lives are tougher than others,”
By rights, Gavet nods, he should be dead, or in jail with many of his childhood gangster friends. Yet here he stands today, signed by one of the most professional clubs in Australian sport, healing the scar tissue laid bare in a smattering of marks along his left wrist.
“Everyone has a journey ... some people’s lives are tougher than others,” says Gavet, who moved to Brisbane last month after being signed by Broncos coach Wayne Bennett.
“For me, this is a new start, the chance to put my life on the right path.
“Given the life experience I have, I feel happy to be where I’m at.
“People talk about rugby league being tough. But the hard stuff on the footy field doesn’t really compare to the things I’ve seen and experienced.”
To understand Gavet’s heartbreaking journey, the Broncos import says you need to understand life in Mount Roskill, the south Auckland suburb where volcanic activity is not restricted to the mountains that overlook the region.
He joined a gang dubbed the JDK. Childhood friend Manu Ma’u, now an NRL star at Parramatta, was also a member.
Such was his tribal commitment, Gavet had the gang’s insignia tattooed to the back of his head. Today, he keeps his hair long, concealing any link to a past he cannot fully erase.
“In the neighbourhood I was from, you have to understand the peer pressures,” he says.
“It’s all about street cred. The more feared you are, the less you have to fight. So you have no choice to be tough really. If you can fight, people will leave you alone. If you show weakness, you are finished.
“I smoked pot in primary school, I was smoking cigarettes and, at 12, I had my first drink.
“We all thought it was cool and we ended up forming a gang. Looking back, it was really small-minded, but at that age you don’t know better.
“Peer pressure was huge and if you weren’t in the in-crowd, you were considered a nobody. The problem with being in the in-crowd is you had to do certain things to stay in there.
“The drinking was part of that.”
Intoxicated by weekly parties with peers and the gangster life, it all seemed strangely normal for Gavet. Alcoholism flowed through the family DNA.
Gavet recalls his dad being an alcoholic, giving up booze only after an ultimatum from his wife, and claims his extended family would “drink to get wasted”.
In his final year at school, Gavet’s world began to unravel. His life consumed by alcohol, Gavet fell out with his parents and was kicked out of home. Too ashamed to reach out for help, he put the shutters up and suffered in silence.
“I lived on the streets for a week and a half,” he recalls.
If you can fight, people will leave you alone. If you show weakness, you are finished.
“I still went to school. I would shower during PE class and then sleep in a cemetery, I’d sleep next to my grandfather’s grave. I’d get drunk next to his grave, pass out, and then wake up for school the next day.
“I was terrified at night, I remember once getting chased by gothic people doing chants, but it was the only place that felt like home because my grandfather was there for me.
“During the day a cemetery can be peaceful and quite ambient. I enjoyed that silence.”
But if Gavet tried to run, he couldn’t hide from the demons lurking within. When the famous rugby school he attended missed the finals for the first time in 25 years, Gavet, as First XV captain, bore the brunt of the blame.
At the same time, he went through a bust-up with his partner. The last straw came when he was embroiled in a drunken brawl with his best mate at a house party.
Alcohol eroding any sound judgment, Gavet could take no more.
“I just remember not wanting to be around any more,” Gavet recalls.
“I ran off to a football stadium, smashed a bottle and began to cut away at my arm and face.
“I still have the scars on my left arm. My mates ended up finding me in the stadium. I’d lost a heap of blood and apparently I blacked out.
“The next morning, I woke up in hospital. I needed 40 stitches to my arm and the doctor said, ‘You are lucky, you have missed your main artery by a hairline’.
“In that moment, all I felt was anger. Angry to still be alive. I was thinking why can’t they let me go? I was ready to leave and I couldn’t understand why I didn’t die.”
Today, Gavet feels dismay; a sense of detachment from the tortured soul he once knew.
Upon his release from hospital, Gavet was diagnosed with depression and began a rehabilitation course to help pick up the pieces.
At age 20, he fathered a son, James Jr, whom he regards as the light in his life. But winning the battle with booze has been akin to conquering Everest. Last year, after a 12-year struggle with the demon drink, Gavet successfully completed the 100-day sober challenge.
Since his move to the Broncos, Gavet hasn’t touched a drop. And while he isn’t turning teetotaller, he has found a semblance of control over the substance that largely controlled him.
“I definitely have gotten past it. Alcohol was a real addiction,” he says.
“As soon as it touched my lips, I would want to drink until midday the next day.
“At my worst, me and my brother would buy two cartons of beer — that’s 48 cans — two bottles of wine and one litre of Jack Daniels (whiskey). We’d finish all that before we went out, we’d drink that in about three-and-a-half hours.
“We’d play card games and just drink. Looking back, it was crazy. I can only imagine what my liver looks like.
“It was all a temporary fix. For that moment, however long you are drunk, the dramas of the day are blotted out. But in the morning you feel 10 times worse. You are low on energy, you are hungover and it’s still on your mind.”
The turning point came last year, sparked by the deepest tragedy. At his former club the Tigers, Gavet lost his close mate Fotuaika. The pair shared a Polynesian bond. They laughed together, trained together ... then one day Fotuaika was gone, taken by his own hand.
Devastated, Gavet turned to a familiar crutch. Alcohol was the panacea, briefly dulling the pain. But times had changed. Life had imposed responsibility. He now opened his eyes each morning to a young boy who needed his father, preferably sober.
“Losing Mosese hit me really heavy,” he says.
“To make things worse, I was injured at the time, so I couldn’t play, and I was stuck in a rut.
“I’m proud to say I did the 100-day sober. It was tough at first but I ended up making it through quite easily. I’ve had two drinks since and they were both with family back in Auckland. I have learnt how to have a couple these days, whereas in the past I couldn’t have a couple.
James Gavet keeps his hair long to cover a tattoo linked to his past. Pic: Brett Costello
“I miss Mosese so much. You know what ... he asked me what it was like to try and take your life and I wish I could have given him the right words.
“I said, ‘Bro, why are you asking this?’ He said, ‘No reason ... just curious’.
“I thought nothing of it because while he was quiet, he seemed happy. Being Islanders, we had an instant connection. I was there the day he tore his pec at training and he went to the physio in tears.
“We had our little corner in the changeroom, we sat next to each other and had our little handshake. He was like my little brother.”
Foutaika now rests at Brisbane’s Mt Gravatt cemetery, and Gavet’s move to the Broncos gives him the chance to visit his Polynesian blood brother.
Now 25, Gavet accepts he is not your typical Broncos player. Most are straight-laced, quintessential Queensland country boys largely insulated from the ruthless, poverty-stricken, streetfighting environment in which Gavet was reared.
But Gavet is adamant the Broncos have not inherited a problem child. If anything, he can be a poster boy for reformation. He wants troubled youth to know, in their darkest moments, there is always a ray of hope.
“I’m not ashamed of my story,” Gavet says.
“My life has taught me that things don’t always come on a silver platter. Sometimes you aren’t ready in life. Sometimes you fall and you learn the hard way.
“I know I can’t run away from my past, but I know I can learn from it.
“I thought my dreams were done and dusted. I was working as a labourer doing the sewerage, so I was in the trenches literally digging shit.
“For any kids out there, I went from that life to pro football.
“I know what it’s like to have nothing, which is why I’m grateful to Wayne Bennett and the Broncos for giving me this chance.
“I don’t take anything for granted any more. It feels great to be a father, to have the joy of a child ... and now I can say I feel blessed to be alive.”
- If you’re struggling with stress or depression, support is available. Call Lifeline 24 hours a day on 131 114 or Beyond Blue on 1300 22 46 36.
Originally published as James Gavet’s story: ‘I should be dead’
