Eels halfback Chris Sandow still gambles but, now he knows the cost, its only on the field
Nick Walshaw
The Daily Telegraph
May 17, 2014 12:00AM
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CHRIS Sandow still fills out TAB tickets.
Scribbling down what he thinks will be the next winner at Canterbury, Cranbourne, even Angle Park, before rejoining his mates at their regular front bar table.
We could tell you none of them pass through the machine, insisting this enigmatic Eel, since walking from rehab seven months ago, is completely comfortable with the little game that now sees him ticking boxes for nothing more than an interest.
To keep his place in this group.
And for the most part, its true.
But as for that rare ticket which still slips through? When, occasionally, those checked boxes become a little, white betting slip?
Sandows answer for that can be found in why he chip kicks on the first play of a game.
Taking risks, the halfback grins, its part of my magic.
Chrissy Sandow has been gambling his entire life. Chip n chase on the first play? Lets do it. Run on the last? No problem. And back when the shoulder charge was still legal ... this cheeky playmaker rolled the defensive dice two, even three times a game.
Chris Sandow admits gambling is part of his footballing creativity. Source: News Corp Australia
Yet, chatting now with The Daily Telegraph at Ringrose Park, Wentworthville, a ground where he has spent far too much time of late, Sandow is explaining how that same attitude that magic almost finished him.
How much have I lost punting? No idea, the 25-year-old shrugs. But no gambler is ever going to tell you that. They cant.
I know there have been times where athletes say they lost so many thousands. But I guarantee, theyre guessing.
On the punt, all you ever remember is winning thats what takes you back again and again and again.
And just like that we all gasp.
Sandows gambling became a problem when he left South Sydney for Parramatta. Source: Getty Images
Wondering how this indigenous livewire with everything the cash, skills, beautiful partner, three healthy children could so easily come within a short half-head of losing it all?
Indeed, two years ago, when the South Sydney poster boy had just inked his $550,000 move to the Eels, this journalist asked Sandow if he was worth the hype? Worth the cash?
We recounted how, rather than answer, the new signing had looked towards the ground. Then the sky. Even at Fuifui Moimoi as he passes.
Yet the real problem was not with the answer, but the question. In the assumption that an Aboriginal mission kid, a boy who only a few years earlier was pooling lunch money with older brothers and cousins, would not only understand, overnight, the value of six figures, but his legitimacy to claiming them.
To come from Cherbourg to this, Sandow says now, looking around him, its difficult.
Sometimes I think people judge me without understanding. Without having walked in
my shoes. As a boy growing up, no one I knew really saved money. People like my parents, they struggled and went without a lot themselves so I could do stuff.
But it just seemed like what you had, you spent. And once I signed with Parramatta, I had plenty. I could party, gamble, whatever ... The next week there was always more money coming in.
And then one day, there wasnt. Sandow was not only weighed down by a debt he still cannot calculate, but the shame of trying to keep his truth from the club, the press, even those family members whose love is unconditional.
So what was it like living a lie?
Almost killed me, he says without pause.
I came to Parramatta on such a high, thinking the money, the expectation, the attention, I could handle it all.
But I couldnt. There was never any question I could play, but the gambling, it took over. Stopped me from focusing on footy. I was punting two, three times as much as my mates and, eventually, couldnt shoulder the load.
And I understand all that now. Realise how quickly it can all be gone. But back then, I was hurting, lost interest in everything. So I rang Mum and said, Im coming home.
And if not for Rhonda Sandow, Cherbourg is where he would be right now.
Normally Mum, she just yells at me, he says, smiling. But this time it was different; she really spoke to me in a black fella way. Explaining that, while I will always be her boy, its not me and her anymore, you know. I have kids of my own now. A family. So theres no more running home when things go wrong.
Which is why Sandow, having lost weight, got fit and finished his rehabilitation, is doing what he does best:
Taking the same risks that, as a teen, not only saw him emerge from the safety blanket that is Cherbourg walking out when every inch of him screamed stay but eventually making NRL debuts, winning Dally M Rookie gongs and playing the type of footy that saw him chip, regather and score against Cronulla last Monday night.
F..., that one was good, he laughs. I dont mean to swear but that play, winning ... not many people know but, after games of footy where Parramatta lose, I still cry.
So the boy from Cherbourg, hes back?
Ah, you can put that Im getting there, he grins. Bringing back the magic.
