Joe Marler should be commended for breaking down rugby’s barriers around toxic masculinity and mental health – and he was NEVER going to go quietly, writes NIK SIMON… the journalist who knows him best
It was a bank holiday weekend in 2016 when a giant piece of fancy dress rushed me at the bar of The Ship in Wandsworth. He was dressed from head to toe as Bane – the supervillain from DC Comics – enough to scare anyone.
“Are you bringing in the drinks then?” He said, pulling down his mask. It turned out to be Joe Marler, the young prop who had developed a particularly frosty relationship with the media during his early years as an England international.
His media sessions were always grumpy, his answers short and dismissive.
“How has life been since the 2015 World Cup?”
“Broccoli.” Uncomfortable silence.
After calling time on his international career, Joe Marler will go down as one of rugby’s most colorful characters
The colossal prop quickly made a name for itself with its unique sense of style
But as his career progressed, Marler became an outspoken advocate for progressive causes
He was one of life’s mavericks, with bleached mohawks and rat tail hairstyles.
It wasn’t long after his ‘gipsy boy’ storm with Welsh prop Samson Lee that we had a few gin and tonics at the bar. Marler was the master at putting his foot in it. This time he had kicked the world out, but the world hit back a lot harder.
He talked about the stress it caused, being labeled a racist for his misunderstanding of Gypsy history and often had ideas about quitting the sport altogether. Thank God he didn’t.
We exchanged numbers and randomly joined in a long-running game of Words with Friends – the digital equivalent of Scrabble – as he gradually let down his guard.
Over time, Marler became rugby’s leading advocate for mental health. He broke the sport’s traditional barriers around toxic masculinity and took a stand against Israel Folau’s views on homosexuality.
“I didn’t want my struggles with mental health to give the opposition an advantage, so I tried to be a fake tough guy early on,” he told me over coffee at his home during the Covid lockdown.
“I made a thing of telling people to stop. The scary haircuts and everything else was just part of this persona of, “F*** y’all, I’m fine, I’m not crying, I’m not kissing or hugging.”
‘Every morning I drove to work, turned on the radio and cried. Everyone has some form of sadness, right? Just to varying degrees. You don’t have to worry if you feel a little bad. That’s the stigma we need to get rid of.’
The 34-year-old has made the decision to leave international rugby behind, having played less than a century in England.
At the last World Cup in 2023, the veteran played in every match except the bronze medal match as England surprisingly reached the semi-finals.
He discussed his use of antidepressants and changed the story in the locker room. His words have been as valuable as his dominant scrummaging displays.
These are the kind of tributes usually reserved for a player’s 100th cap, but Marler announced his retirement on Sunday morning, five short of his century.
As I scrolled through our WhatsApp history before sending him a message of congratulations, I was reminded of the time he dressed up as a Disney princess. The photo was printed from head to toe in the Mail on Sunday on Sunday. A touch of color in an often boring sports world.
Our last meeting was this summer in Tokyo, where we spent a few days exploring the city’s ninja schools and pork cafes. “I once had an MRI scan in the same machines they use for the animals at London Zoo,” he said, always full of surprises.
His retirement Sunday seemed less of a surprise. At the age of 34, he is in the final year of his contract with Harlequins and a new generation is emerging on the international front.
But even after so many years in the spotlight, his tendency to put his foot in his mouth hasn’t let him down – as evidenced by his recent Haka comments
He has been true to the style and put his foot in it with his comments on last week’s Haka. Marler would never go away quietly.
“Okay, cheese t**s,” he replied when I called him on Sunday morning to congratulate him. He happened to be on the sidelines watching his son play football at Eastbourne, and was finally satisfied with his decision to enter the next chapter of his life.