Rugby doesn't have much time for the flawed character. No one cheers for a guy like Zac Guildford.
Other sports aren't so picky or so judgmental. The NFL is full of cult hero madmen. Some of their most idolised are now behind bars or lucky not to be. English football celebrates all sorts of odd balls. It's almost a case of the more dysfunctional, the better.
Paul Gascoigne wasn't so different to Guildford in that he too spent his career battling alcoholism. Gascoigne was never out of the papers in his prime. He did any number of daft things -- set fire to teammates' clothes, mouthed obscenities in broadcast promotions and wandered into the Middlesbrough canteen naked to order lunch and yet he was much loved and cherished. England didn't care that he was riddled with issues. Fans, coaches ... everyone wanted him to succeed.
And there were plenty of others just like him. Sporting heroes don't fit just the one mould.
Except in New Zealand rugby, where it seems there's an expectation that heroes have to be near perfect. Richie McCaw has signed off as the greatest player in All Black history. He hasn't put a foot wrong and shown this relentless capacity to do the right thing. Daniel Carter is much the same. Good, clean living country boys, they will be viewed for eternity as the perfect All Blacks. Held up as an example to all.
Those who can't match them will be judged to have somehow failed. Be perfect or be damned -- there is no room apparently in New Zealand for damaged souls. There is no desire to get behind those like Guildford: to know they are troubled and still want the best for them anyway.
It's a bit curious really because rugby has a code of tolerance and acceptance. It is a game built on egalitarian values and Corinthian spirit and the one place in society where all walks of life come together with a common goal. In a rugby changing room, no one is a doctor, lawyer, engineer or window washer: none of that has ever mattered. In a rugby changing room there are only teammates and friends -- men and women with a shared purpose that breaks through all social barriers.
Guildford tests the strength of that ethos and the game hasn't universally covered itself in glory. Patience has stretched only so far -- as if there is a limit to the acceptance of alcoholism as a debilitating medical condition rather than an excuse.
Few seem to realise he's battling every day against an illness and isn't just a bit of a goose who likes the grog.
Waratahs' coach Daryl Gibson is different. He accepts the demons which haunt Guildford are not self-inflicted. He understands, having experience with someone who couldn't beat their addiction, that there will be good days and bad days for Guildford.
He may not get through the next few months without drinking. He could implode as he has before. But until then, how about taking a new perspective on Guildford?
How about seeing him as potentially one of the great sport stories of 2016? How about believing in the dream he could be the fallen All Black who picked himself up and won back his test place against the odds? How about realising his flaws are not be condemned but instead celebrated? Rugby needs characters, it needs colour and variation. The flawed hero is in many respects the best kind -- they have had to work harder, to fight for longer and overcome more.