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Heyday: The big back-rower charges the pigskin down the park, scattering defenders as he goes. Those were the days for John Elias, back when thoughts of 'busting out' were just limited to the football field.

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want a cup of tea?” is not how we ex-pected to be greeted by Rugby League

Bad Boy, John Elias. As he graciously serves afternoon refresh-ments, it’s difficult to imagine him holding a gun to a man’s head.

Ex-footy players tend to go down two roads—the Darryl Brohman, or the John Cartwright—Elias is definitely cruising down the Carty Highway. As he settles for the interview, he stretches out his huge frame, and you can see why his time as a stand-over man was so successful. He is not someone you say “no” to.

Like many career criminals, Elias is decidedly charming. Effusive, transparent, and opinionated; he is every journalist’s dream.

Elias never set out to write a book; Sin Bin started as journal en-tries written during his latest prison stint. “I just did it for my soul. Just for myself,” he says.

Like Elias himself, the book is refreshingly honest. No sob stories, woe-is-me acclimations, or excuses. He has no qualms admitting the real reasons behind his criminal hijinks: “It was a thrill ride.”

“It was exciting. It was my love. Trying to let go of a love is hard. That life was really good; I enjoyed it.”

While not exactly proud of his exploits, he doesn’t seem wracked with guilt or shame over them either. There’s no overwrought hand wringing here. He is, however, worried about karma. He hopes that donating all of the profits of Sin Bin to charity will help him gain a few extra points of good karma.

When quizzed about why he turned to a life of crime, Elias is at a loss. “I have two brothers who grew up in the same circum-stances; they went on to lead good lives”.

“DO YOUTHE TERM ‘ENFORCER’ IS

USED BY FOOTY COMMENTATORS

TO DESCRIBE BIG BOOFY PROPS

DURING GAMES. IN AN EXCLUSIVE

INTERVIEW, RLP TALKS TO INFAMOUS RUGBY LEAGUE BAD

BOY JOHN ELIAS. FORGET HIT UPS

AND CRUNCHING TACKLES:

ELIAS IS THE REAL DEAL.

WORDS BY KIKI STEWART

enforcerBorn in rural Lebanon, Elias and his family migrated to Australia, after his father died suddenly. Already impoverished, things didn’t improve much with the move. His mother struggled with speaking English, thus, limiting her career choices. Birthdays and holidays were non-existent for the Elias children.

When asked if he possibly developed his tough façade as a way to cope, he grows quiet and grudgingly answers, ‘Yes. I think so.’

From a young age, Elias possessed a rebellious spirit. The law-lessness of punchbowl in the 1970s was not conducive to direct-ing it positively. Childhood indiscretions led to a spate of robber-ies and the alleged stabbing of a bus driver. Although adamant about his innocence on the stabbing charge, Elias was sent to the notorious Long Bail Jail, at the tender age of 16. This irrevocably changed the course of his life.

“I had no [positive] role models. Mine ended up being murderers and rapists. I was in awe of those people. They taught me every-thing. There was no going back after that.”

After 18 months inside, Johnny embarked on his Rugby League career, eventually playing for numerous clubs including the New-town Jets, West’s Magpies, the Rabbitohs, and the Balmain Tigers.

Elias had multitasking down pat. Whilst playing first-grade footy, he also maintained a successful career as a criminal, involved in horse racing, match fixing, and gun smuggling. He also be-came an accomplished stand-over man for Sydney’s underworld figures.

Like many ex-players, he firmly believes things were tougher in his day.

“People say the players are a lot fitter now; I don’t believe that. It was more gladiatorial back then; the game was a lot tougher. If you copped a high tackle you kept playing.”

“Now the game is about athletes; not footy players.”

He does, however, hold Wayne Bennett’s Dragons in high esteem.

“I love the way the Dragons are playing; they remind me of my day. Wayne has coached them that way. They win ugly and I like that. They are pure grit. When the Dragons beat you, it drains you.”

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Elias struck up an unlikely friendship with the super coach dur-ing their days at Brisbane Souths. The friendship continues to this day, with Bennett frequently visiting Sydney to get a dose of Mama Elias’ home cooking.

“Wayne is a good family man. He’s always been there for me.”

For all the salacious details of the book, one gets the feeling that there is a whole lot more Johnny isn’t telling us. “I could name people in high positions. They could be doing jail time right now but I’ve decided to keep my mouth shut.”

His major gripe about Rugby League is the simple fact that no one will give him a job; the very same people who once, allegedly, utilised his criminality for themselves.

When discussing the hypocritical nature of these individuals, Elias seems more hurt than enraged. He seems dumbfounded as to why they can’t look past his criminal record and see the man un-derneath. He clearly believes he is being treated unfairly.

Author of Sin Bin, footy journalist Josh Massoud, chimes in from across the room.

“We live in such a politically correct world. You could hire Johnny, but as soon as a parent complains, it’s over. It’s hard to defend a three-time criminal on anyone’s coaching staff.”

Although not used to being on the other side of the dictaphone, Massoud seems at ease, and is a veritable quote machine. Deliv-ering opinions thick and fast, perhaps subconsciously knowing every journo’s love of a juicy quote.

“It’s a grubby game, Rugby League. It’s a game built on vice. It used to be tobacco, now it’s alcohol and gambling.”

Massoud wrote the book in four weeks; shockingly short period of time, as most biographies take years to produce. Much like a method actor, he climbed inside Elias’ head, inhabiting his char-acter completely.

“We met every day; it’s like learning a language; you have to im-merse yourself in it. He became like my de-facto wife. It was easy to speak in his voice.”

As Massoud talks about the process, his face lights up, exclaim-ing: “I absolutely loved it”. They became firm friends and confi-dants. Did Elias’s tall tales about the underbelly of Rugby League surprise him?

“Errr, no. I work for the Daily Telegraph, remember?”

John Elias is now trying to live “the wholesome life”. He admits it’s an everyday struggle; the lures of easy money and adrenalin rushes will always beckon. But Sin Bin is helping to keep him on track.

“Its redemption; it’s a good catalyst for me. I can’t go out and do something bad again. The book is like insurance.”

It was exciting. it was my love.

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