When Dyson Heppell joined Essendon in 2011 as a Rising Star, he was 19 and hungry to improve. His solution was one that would have gone unquestioned in most sporting environments: he restricted his diet ruthlessly, overtraining to burn off every calorie. After a night out with teammates, he would run several kilometres to compensate for a few beers. These were not the obsessive habits of someone with diagnosed anorexia nervosa. They were, as he now recognises, the normal pathology of elite sport.
For years, Heppell did not see this as concerning. The culture around him normalised it. At Essendon, players who returned from the off-season without hitting their pre-season weight targets were assigned to an informal group that became known as 'fat club', subjected to extra training designed to strip weight. It was, he has said, "a pretty vicious one, to be honest." Only when his partner, Kate, who was studying nutrition, flagged her concerns with club officials did the club intervene. A conversation with the player development manager, a psychologist and club doctors followed, and Heppell began to rebuild his relationship with food.
Heppell's experience reflects a broader reality that research is only now making impossible to ignore. Disordered eating is prevalent across elite athletes, including males and females and across sport type, and elite athletes are at elevated risk for disordered eating and eating disorders compared to the general population. Yet the systems that should protect these athletes often fail them in the most fundamental way: they fail to recognise the problem at all.
Speaking recently at an event for the Butterfly Foundation, Heppell appeared alongside AFLW champion Erin Phillips and Melbourne Mavericks netballer Amy Parmenter. All three have publicly described their struggles with disordered eating. Phillips described her early relationship with her body as "unkind, unrealistic and unsustainable," admitting she still carries scars from that period. Both she and Heppell have spoken about how systemic pressures within their sports compounded personal vulnerability into clinical disorder.
What makes their collective testimony particularly significant is the evidence emerging from research into coaching practices. Coaches demonstrate limited awareness of eating disorders without observable weight loss, and tend to conceptualise eating disorders as a nutritional issue rather than a psychological condition requiring intervention. This gap in understanding is not incidental; it is structural. Coaches report challenges with communicating about body image, responding to denial, and addressing funding constraints when managing athletes with eating concerns.
The incidents that trigger such conditions often involve language that administrators treat as unremarkable. Last week, a video surfaced of a NSW rules official at a Collingwullie Wagga Demons women's match making derogatory comments about female players' bodies. The official referred to women as "breeders" and criticised a player's weight. The club responded by accepting his resignation. But as Parmenter noted in an interview, such comments leave permanent scars. "She will never ever forget those comments, and that impact on her will be with her forever," Parmenter said of the affected player. "I guarantee you."
The research underpinning these concerns is now substantial. Risk factors for disordered eating include female gender, competing in lean sports, and experiencing career changes. Negative pressures to obtain body ideals may be reinforced by coaches and can increase eating pathology, though coaches may also promote help-seeking and body acceptance. The outcome of this balance in any given environment depends on institutional culture.
For Australian sport, that culture is shifting, though not uniformly. The AFL has launched a new working group focused on disordered eating as a preventative measure at both elite level and within football's junior pathways, with a particular focus on youth athletes in the game's talent pathways. The group includes psychologists, dietitians, academics and athletes with lived experience. The AFL has adopted the Australian Institute of Sport's position statement and will now work to develop its own framework.
What remains unresolved is whether education and frameworks alone can shift entrenched attitudes. The importance of a coach's role in cultivating positive body image and supporting athletes with body image concerns is now clearly established. Yet coaches express a desire for in-person, interactive training and support for junior-level coaches, suggesting current provision falls short.
Phillips has become explicit about what needs to change. She wants her own children to look in the mirror and feel strong and healthy, not anxious about appearance. "If they play sport," she has said, "it's not worrying about what they look like, it's how they feel having fun." This is not a sentimental position. It is a statement about the fundamental purpose of sport and where responsibility lies.
The Butterfly Foundation provides support for eating disorders through its national helpline, 1800 ED HOPE (1800 33 4673), and its website at butterfly.org.au. The Australian Institute of Sport's position statement on disordered eating in high performance sport provides guidance for athletes, coaches and sports organisations. The AFL's new working group is expected to release its framework later this year.