Bold claim: the pressure to look a certain way has haunted professional football far longer than most fans realize, and it isn’t just a past problem—it’s still here in subtle forms. Former Essendon captain Dyson Heppell pulls back the curtain on how the sport’s culture around body image and food started to feel “horrendous” early in his career, revealing a cycle where players were routinely nudged toward losing weight to fit a narrow ideal. Here’s what happened, why it mattered, and how the conversation is evolving today.
Dyson Heppell described a ruthless pre-season routine built around targets for body fat and weight. If a player returned from the off-season not hitting that target, he could be placed in a group that had to endure extra cross-training or other fat-reducing efforts. The group earned the unflattering nickname “fat club,” a label Heppell called vicious. He explained that the pressure around food and body image was intense and damaging, even as he played 253 AFL games for Essendon between 2011 and 2024.
The stress wasn’t just about workouts; it extended to eating habits. Heppell said he found himself pre-planning meals and avoiding eating during team trips, all while trying to hide the impact of a broken leg that left him on crutches through an off-season. When his physique didn’t meet the skinny targets, he faced being relegated to fat club, which felt demeaning and unnecessary.
Heppell’s experience aligns with other players’ memories. Luke Bateman, a former NRL player who competed for the Canberra Raiders, indicated that unofficial fat clubs existed in rugby league as well. In 2016, the AFL’s Carlton Blues were reported to have run a “fat club” under then-coach Brendon Bolton, with players measured by skin folds. Anyone with more than 12% body fat was moved to the fat club and faced strenuous reconditioning before rejoining the main group. The move drew criticism from sports administrator Brian Waldron, who called naming the group the fat club socially irresponsible and warned about the impact on impressionable fans and young athletes.
In response to ongoing concerns about weight-related pressures, the AFL made a notable policy change in 2024. Clubs were barred from conducting skin-fold testing on prospective draftees. The policy shift, which drew mixed reactions from sports media, aimed to reduce weight-focused scrutiny. Aimed protections extended to AFLW players and female athletes coming through the system, who could opt out of weighing altogether. A memo from Kate Hall and Grant Williams clarified that body weights should be measured only by qualified professionals in private, and that all data must remain confidential.
Despite reforms, criticism persists. Former premiership-winning coach Paul Roos voiced strong skepticism on the ABC’s AFL Daily, suggesting players worried about skin-fold results should consider another line of work. Yet many ex-players continue to share stories of unhealthy relationships with food and weight during their careers. Cooper Hamilton, a former GWS player, has spoken openly about body dysmorphia and eating-disorder struggles, describing social withdrawal around food and regularly playing games under-fuelled.
The issue isn’t isolated to AFL alone. A recent ABC investigation highlighted disordered eating and body-image pressures among elite female athletes as well, underscoring that the problem spans genders and sports. While the AFL has taken steps to de-emphasize weight in recent years, the culture that prizes a certain physique remains a sensitive topic across clubs.
When Heppell was asked whether fat clubs still exist, his answer was unambiguous: yes, it’s still a thing. This admission invites a broader conversation about how teams balance fitness, performance, and players’ long-term health. It also raises important questions: Should any group exist whose purpose is to label players by body fat? How can clubs promote healthier relationships with food while maintaining competitive standards? And what safeguards should be in place to protect players from harmful pressures while still delivering on-field performance?
If you’ve followed this topic, you might wonder: is there a healthier framework that preserves accountability without stigmatizing players? How can fans, media, and organizations collaborate to shift the culture toward sustainable well-being rather than short-term metrics? Share your perspective in the comments: do you think current AFL policies strike the right balance, or is there more work to do to protect players’ mental and physical health?
