Harley Reid on pressure, public scrutiny, and learning how to block out the noise

A flicker of panic crosses Harley Reid’s face. He’s been wading in Crown Perth’s secluded Enclave pool when he realises his phone is still in his pocket. The crew freezes, gasping in unison — what a way to wrap up an otherwise fun and seamless shoot — before he cracks a grin: “Just kidding”. Everyone bursts out laughing, crisis averted, the 20-year-old laughing the loudest. It’s the same kind of easygoing and contagious energy the West Coast Eagles star midfielder has carried through the past 90 minutes, from happily having his new mullet zhooshed (and no it’s not permed, despite constant questions) to posing for selfies with strangers and answering every request with a “Yeah, easy”. He’s been a good sport, by every definition of the word — arriving early (unheard of), pausing to give thoughtful answers, and cracking jokes about how much he can lift in the gym, all while wearing an 80s-style fitness outfit, signature headband and all. West Coast fans will be happy to know he’s looking strong. For someone barely out of their teens who already carries a State-sized weight of expectation on his shoulders, he doesn’t show it. Where footy fans and AFL analysts across the country see a generational talent, Reid still sees the kid who grew up kicking goals in country crowds where everyone knows your name — the same people who now fly across the country to watch his games. And between Tongala and this new life, he’s managed to carry the values the regional town and his family instilled in him: loyalty, respect, and community. It’s part of the reason he signed on to West Coast until 2028 — leaving him, and plenty of WA fans, smiling. Crisis averted. “I think everyone thought I was leaving too, which made it a bit better,” he laughs, with a glint of mischief in his eye. Not that the barrage of headlines always tells the full story of what drives Reid. There was the moment that went viral: his middle finger pulled at a roaring crowd in March. What no one knew was what came before it — shouts from the crowd, including calling him a gay slur. Reid didn’t shout back, just flipped them the bird, telling STM he wasn’t going to “waste his breath” on them. It cost him $1000, but it showed who Reid really is — even as one of WA’s most idolised players, he won’t compromise on what he believes is right. On the day of the STM shoot at Crown, Reid is taking a break from moving. He’s just bought his first home — a sanctuary to relax after eight-hour training days, shared with his pooch, Wally. And instead of hiring movers, he’s doing it all himself. Independence is something Reid values deeply. When he first moved to Perth three years ago, he opted to live with a mate rather than a host family, despite never having lived away from home. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” he says of the interstate move. “I think that’s the best way to learn — to get thrown out there and work it out yourself.” It’s also what the recent eagle tattoo on his ankle represents: leaving everything he knows and surviving on his own. It joined the bull horn on the front of his ankle, a constant reminder of where he came from. Unlike many players, he plans to keep future tattoos in places only he can see. And while this new home reflects his rising star — and the size of his contract — it also reveals his changing relationship with recognition and the constant public attention that comes with being a household name. “It’s something I’ve struggled to deal with recently,” he says. “At the start it was like ‘this is sick, this is cool’ but it continues to keep coming. You get to a point that wherever you go, someone is always watching, someone is always filming and trying to catch you out and bring you down. “It’s frustrating. You always wig out and wonder what’s happening. Even something as simple as having a beer in public. Only in your four walls can you relax.” For this new generation of AFL players, being constantly watched is part of the landscape more than ever before. Every moment, every comment, every image is scrutinised. A video can be uploaded without their knowledge in an instant. A rumour can spread like wildfire. Despite not being on TikTok — “imagine me dancing on it,” he laughs — there are plenty of clips of him floating around on there. But Reid has quickly learnt to take control of the aspects he can, joining a slew of players now trading on their image. You don’t have to look far to see Bailey Smith’s abs in an Australia-wide campaign, or walk past a shop displaying Christian Petracca’s new cookbook. For Reid, his deals are deliberate. He says it’s about long-term partnerships with brands that genuinely align with him, both on and off the field. “It’s intentional, but at the end of the day it’s to nail down three or four deals that I personally want to work with,” he says. “I don’t want to be with them for six months or a year, I want to be with them as long as I can to build relationships along the way.” He has a shoe deal with Puma, pushes headphones from BlueAnt, is a loyal sipper of V Energy, and Crown, which is marking its 40th anniversary, is his principal entertainment and venue partner. “Harley’s a great entertainer, Perthonality and certainly pulls off the 80s look,” says Crown Perth chief executive Brian Pereira. “But you have to go back another generation or two to find the folks who really did kit out like this as they lined up for the Burswood Casino when it first opened its doors.” It was in 1987 when the then-Burswood Island precinct (which included Australia’s largest casino, a hotel, convention centre and dome which became the southern hemisphere’s largest indoor stadium) became a day-one partner of the West Coast Eagles — the State’s new VFL team. “Back then, the resort helped put Perth on the global stage — and ever since then Crown Perth has continued to grow in scale and impact, and creating jobs, opportunity and supporting sports and major events for the city of Perth and WA,” says Pereira. Getting paid to take a photo spruiking a product is a far cry from Reid’s humble upbringing — milking cows and working on a farm in a town of just 3000, nearly three hours from Melbourne. Had his natural talent not been nurtured, he says he’d likely still be farming today. But there was always a footy nearby, either in the paddock or on the local oval. Weekends revolved around games. He’d play and then head out with the town to watch others, or walk across to the netball courts to cheer on the teams. His dad was a keen footy player, while his mum, sisters and aunt were all avid netballers. Reid was 10 when he played his first under-12s match, and was quickly invited to play in the under-14s when they were short. That standout season got him noticed on the news and by the town — kicking 20 goals in one game, and 130 in a season — setting him on a path that eventually led to the Bendigo Pioneers. By 2023, he was the No.1 AFL draft pick, already in the spotlight before even pulling on an AFL guernsey. His “don’t argue” (a straight-arm fend-off that leaves opponents grasping at air) has become his signature move, but his contested game is where he dominates. In his first season he played 20 games, earning the AFL Players Association best first-year player gong and West Coast’s emerging talent award, and narrowly missing out on the rising star accolade because of a dangerous tackle that ruled him out. It hasn’t been all highs, though. Reid has been fined more than $26,000 for tripping, misconduct and the middle finger incident; has been suspended for two games; rested for one; and missed four due to injury. Despite some fumbles, fans have seen him as a beacon of hope, a hero figure to carry them to victory after the club’s well-publicised failings. Schoolchildren look up to him, your mother-in-law thinks he’s a lovely fella, and footy fanatics praise him on weekends with the devotion of a Sunday sermon. For someone attracting so much attention — wearing a number previously worn by Nic Naitanui and Ben Cousins — it’s easy to forget he’s only 20, still juggling footy alongside the realities of adulthood. Yet he insists the expectations hardly faze him. “I don’t (let the pressure get to me) I try not to, and I don’t think I do,” Reid says with quiet confidence. “I’m pretty laidback and cruisy. I try to live in the present, and in the moment, and come back to reality to think ‘what can I do now, what can I do to better the team now?’ in whatever environment I’m in. I try not to think about it too much — 80 per cent of it is mental and the rest of the 20 per cent is physical to get on the field. “You can mentally prepare and you can value the boys around you. It’s something I’ve found when times got tough: to introduce leadership on the field with the boys, and off the field, to get my mind away from things on the field. That was something I wanted to try and create in myself.” At the end of the shoot, Reid navigates through Crown with a striped towel around his waist, before shaking the hands of all the crew with a smile, then heading home to pack more boxes. There are still moments when he stops and takes note of the life he’s created — owning his first property, playing at a top level, random fashion shoots with STM — one he never thought imaginable. Often it’s when he meets men he idolised — Gary Ablett Jr, Joel Selwood and Paddy Dangerfield — that he realises how far he’s come in such a short amount of time. “Those moments don’t feel real … when you’re a little kid you’d do anything to meet them, let alone play against them,” he says. “It all happened so quickly, I look back now and I’m in my third year of AFL footy. Where did the last few years go?” As part of its 40th anniversary this December, Crown Perth is reviving the 80s with a series of celebrations — from a Party Like It’s 1985 on December 30, to an anniversary lager, a New Year’s Eve extravaganza, and a commemorative installation in the Metropol lobby. More details at crownperth.com.au.

Harley Reid on pressure, public scrutiny, and learning how to block out the noise

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