The Extermination of the Rat Within

Rat-like behaviour just riles me up these days. Maybe it’s age, or maybe I’m just more aware of it, but it feels like it’s everywhere. The entitled, the arrogant, the ones who think rules are for everyone else.

And look, I’m fully aware that each week I write these little reflections and there are probably people out there saying, “Shut the hell up, Gaz. You were the Rat King.” And they’re not wrong.

Because here’s the truth, I’ve let plenty of rats take advantage of me over the years. I never stood up to them. I think that’s why I love what I do now so much. Promoting kindness, respect, and good energy within our community. Hoping it spreads beyond the gym walls. Because the entitled might win short battles, but they never win the war.

It’s ingrained in me, and in my family, to be kind, but for years, that kindness was seen as weakness. People spotted it, exploited it, and nibbled away at it to get what they wanted.

Becoming the Rat

I wasn’t always the good guy in this story either. In college, I was the opposite of who I am now. I didn’t respect my family or the people around me. I thought I was too cool, too big for my boots, untouchable. I drank too much, partied too often, constantly chasing the next session before the last one even ended.

I lived in a bubble where self-awareness didn’t exist. I put my feelings first and never stopped to think about how my actions affected anyone else.

Then the best thing that could have happened to me did.

One night out, one punch, and that was it. Jaw broken in two places. The “big dog” version of myself drifted away into the Dublin night sky.

When they clicked my jaw into place, without anaesthesia, it was the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but looking back, I deserved it. It was as if someone had clicked the kind part of my soul back into place.

My jaw was wired shut for three months. I drank every meal through a straw. My fake, alpha bravado disappeared. I was embarrassed, isolated, and forced to face myself.

Rebuilding From the Inside Out

Why do I call that night the best thing that ever happened to me?

Because it put me back in my place, it stopped me from becoming someone I wouldn’t even recognise today. It taught me that I wasn’t the most important person in the room. That my actions had consequences.

I’ll never forget being wheeled down to surgery, my mum walking beside the trolley, tears in her eyes, sadness, maybe disappointment. We both knew something had to change.

Only my mum, dad, and sister came to visit me in the hospital. Not one of the “lads” I thought were my tribe. The people who were loudest beside me at parties were nowhere to be seen when things got real.

A few months later, I tore my ACL for the third time. The surgeon told me, “That’s it — no more rugby.”

I broke down crying in the bathroom. My parents were waiting outside. I knew that chapter of my life was over. I didn’t know it then, but it was exactly what I needed.

Losing the Tribe, Finding Myself

My identity had been built around the “lad” culture — rugby, nights out, bravado. And suddenly, it was gone.

It’s funny how we crave belonging, but sometimes attach ourselves to tribes that don’t reflect who we are or who we want to be. You morph into someone else, and before you know it, you’re lost inside a version of yourself you don’t even like.

That moment, broken jaw, broken knee, broken ego, was my reset. A ripping off of the bandage. A chance to rebuild.

It led me to where I am now: serving others. Coaching. Promoting kindness. Living with intent. I get genuine satisfaction from helping others find strength, community, and purpose, because that’s where I found mine.

The Rat King Retires

Am I perfect? Absolutely not. Like I’ve said before, I’m a man of many faults, stitched together with good intent.

Now, I crave like-minded people. I have no tolerance for ego or fakery. If I even sniff a hint of arrogance or entitlement — a “rat” — I’m gone. I distance myself straight away.

These days, I promote kindness, community, and growth. I champion people who are willing to change, and I refuse to give attention or energy to the entitled. The world already rewards enough of that.

It took a punch, a few tears, and the end of a rugby career to morph me from a rat back into a human. It wasn’t easy, but I’m grateful. Those hard moments shaped me — reminded me that we’re all just fighting through life, trying our best, and that we’re better when we let others in.

Sometimes the worst moments in life are the reset we didn’t know we needed. The extermination of the rat within.