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On an early date, Sammy introduced Rachael to his sport. Now, he’s her Olympic coach
Dr Rachael Gunn (aka B-girl Raygun), 36, will be wearing the green and gold for breaking’s Olympic debut in Paris, but if it weren’t for her husband, Samuel Free (aka B-boy Sammy The Free), 39, she’d never even have tried a head-spin.
Samuel Free and Rachael Gunn. “Having this shared interest makes our relationship feel really special,” says Free. Credit: Edwina Pickles
Samuel: Rachael and I met in early 2008 working at a call centre selling knives to daytime-TV viewers. She’d walk past and I’d think, “Man, she’s gorgeous!” but I was dating someone else. Later, when I wasn’t, she invited me to World Bar in Kings Cross and we danced until 4am. We just got on like a house on fire; we knew there was something there.
I’d been hooked on breaking ever since I’d seen the [1997] clip for It’s Like That, by Run-D.M.C vs. Jason Nevins. It’s social and then there’s the athleticism, the artistry and the fact that because it’s so spontaneous, it’s pretty much unmasterable. You get into this “flow state”.
Rachael had grown up doing jazz, ballroom and tap, and I convinced her to try it. Back then, female participation was at about 2 per cent, but I was like, “I’m telling you, you’ve got an aptitude for this.”
She entered her first competition [at Platform Hip Hop Festival in Sydney] within a year of committing to it. Most people wait until they’re more than ready to do something, but Rachael just throws her hat in the ring, then makes herself get there.
We got married in January 2018. We had a beautiful ceremony in the Blue Mountains, Rachael wearing this blush-coloured gown and me in a navy tux. In breaking, if you get called out onto the dance floor, you have to dance. So, when our friends called us, Rachael threw off her heels and tried to hold her gown with one arm and dance with the other. I was wearing patent-leather shoes and recovering from an ACL reconstruction; it was the worst breaking either of us had ever done.
We were surprised when we heard breaking was going to be in the Paris Olympics. Rachael was the top woman in Australia and I could probably have qualified, but I made the difficult but pragmatic decision to put my skills to use as a team coach instead.
Rachael and I spent COVID training in our apartment. We had to find a new way of communicating. I’d be like, “You need to do it faster” or “Why aren’t you doing this?” and there’d be friction when I talked to her like a coach instead of a husband. She needs a soft approach, to know I’m not denigrating her. Now I say things like, “As your husband, I’m in awe of how hard you’re training and the progress you’ve made. But as your coach, I’m saying: ‘Train harder. Let’s go!’ ” When she qualified in February, we were, literally, jumping for joy.
‘There’d be friction when I talked to her like a coach instead of a husband.’
Samuel Free
Rachael is good at prioritising. For me, breaking has always had this gravitational pull, which means other things take a back seat. It took me so long to finish my psychology degree. But Rachael got her PhD [in cultural studies], lectures at Macquarie University and is now an Olympic breaker.
Having this shared interest makes our relationship feel really special. We get to travel the world doing what we love. I try to remember to step back and go, “This is f---ing awesome.”
Rachael: When I met Sammy at the call centre, I thought he was really cute: he had spiky brown hair, an eyebrow ring and such a baby face I assumed he was younger than me. When I found out he was three years older, I started requesting shifts when he was rostered on.
Not long after we started dating, he took me to Hornsby PCYC where he was training [in breaking] with the guys. I thought it was pretty cool but not something I’d ever try. As a dancer, I’d spent years learning choreography; these guys were all doing their own thing, which was intimidating.
He encouraged me to give it a go, but it was hard and overwhelming. A woman’s body is different to a man’s – we have hips – so when a crew mate would say, “Just kick up,” I’d be like, “That doesn’t work for me.” But Sammy recognised that, which made me feel empowered.
I entered my first competition in 2012. I was busy writing my PhD and he’d get frustrated that I wasn’t training hard enough. I got annoyed when he kept pushing me – I never thought I’d be going to the Olympics one day – but Sammy could see potential. Now I wish I’d trained harder then.
Our hardest time was in 2017, when Sammy tore his ACL. He’d been building his dancing career and, suddenly, he was told he might never regain full use of his knee. We were broke, eating budget meals and racking up credit-card debt – and we didn’t have private health insurance, so he had to go on a waiting list for surgery. It was a really hard time.
We focused on the next steps: his surgery and rehab, me getting a job as an academic. After one lecture, I called him in tears: I thought it had gone really badly. But he was so encouraging, always telling me I was doing great. Four years later, he was back to 99 per cent; now there are only a few moves that he avoids.
‘I got annoyed when he kept pushing me – I never thought I’d be going to the Olympics one day – but Sammy could see potential.’
Rachael Gunn
Qualifying for the Olympics has changed our lives; it’s this amazing platform for us to show what we do. Sammy probably would’ve liked to have been competing, too, but we had a limited number of people in Australia with the expertise needed to coach. He may not be performing, but his mark will be in all my moves.
Sometimes, he’ll give me feedback and I’ll get defensive, but I’ve learnt to dig deep: “What’s really happening here?” And, usually, it’s that [I’m scared that] he thinks I’m shit. So I’ll say, “Just tell me you think I’m whack” and we end up laughing because he doesn’t think that.
Sammy’s profession is psycho-social support work, which suits him because he’s so kind. I think of him as my semi-therapist. If I’m really nervous about a competition or a lecture, he’ll say, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” He has this unending belief in me, which makes me feel as if I can do anything.
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