"We all have masks," Idris explained.

"It's so easy, everyone does in everyday life. Everyone puts on this mask to show everyone what they want them to see. It's to protect who they really are, who they hold and cherish to themselves. They try to internalise that, keep that within themselves and not share it with the world.

"I used to be that one where I'd keep me really tight to myself."

Idris has been on a sabbatical. A "gap year", as he calls it. Having walked away from the Panthers, he embarked on a worldwide journey of discovery. What he found was himself.

Travelling alone, covering 12 countries in as many months, Idris pondered the world and his place in it.

"That's what life is about, the little things," Idris said. "A bunch of little things put together to make this thing we call life. There were a lot of little parts missing so it was about understanding myself. Understand why I react the way I do in certain situations."

On the surface, Idris should have been happy with his lot. A professional footballer, a former Test and Origin star no less, with the wage and acclaim befitting the status.

"At the end of the day, some people may seem happy, have the world at their feet, but if they're not mentally right and mentally there, what does it matter?" Idris pondered.

"You won't be able to use all of your tools to your benefit if you're not mentally there. I wasn't and I put myself first.

"I'm bloody happy for that as well, I won't be criticised for doing that."

Which is why he gave it all up.

Idris had spent his life, one that had taken him from an Aboriginal mission in Forster to the fishbowl that is the NRL, attempting to please others. In doing so, he was unable to please himself. Lacking the life experience to handle such a transition, he decided to gain it by setting abroad on a one-way ticket. It was unclear whether football would hold a place in his life upon his return.

"I definitely did fall out of love with it," Idris said.

"I got the rest of the world entangled into footy, it was all entwined when it should have been separate."

Herein lies the conundrum. Idris has been described as a "personality player", a larger-than-life character. His previous clubs have viewed him as a wrecking ball on the field and marketing tool off it. Idris, however, has been uncomfortable with the attention. It is only now, mask removed, just how difficult life in the spotlight was.

He would walk down the street and people would stare. Or worse still, put in their two cents worth about his performance. Those interactions, while fleeting, would be replayed ad nauseum later that evening as he stared at the ceiling. Yet of all the critics, Idris himself was the hardest to please.

"Walking down the street, everyone else has their opinions," he said.

"They think they are the first one to say something with you, but little do they know you've passed another 20 blokes walking by, saying the exact same thing before they got to you.

"Anyone who says they truly don't care what other people say or think about them is a liar. That's human nature. The worst thing is everyone is going to have their opinions and another thing is people are going to make up stories as well.

"Then your name is getting tarnished and you're sitting there and there's nothing you can do."

Which is why he so craved the anonymity that comes with travelling abroad. There he was another face in the crowd, not that bloke who played for the Bulldogs or Titans or Panthers. Over there, he could snowboard in Canada, play basketball in India, sit in absolute silence for up to an hour alongside a family in Nigeria, content in his own company, not concerned about the judgements of others.

"That's what used to get to me [when] walking around Australia, people would stare," Idris said.

"I grew up thinking it was rude to stare, that's what my mother taught me.

"So I'd be walking and people would be staring at me like this (eyes open up). I used to get offended, I'd be like 'why are you staring at me?! It's rude'. I'd be up in arms straight away.

"I thought they were staring at me and judging me because of football. But then I'd travel the world and go to other places where people were staring at me."

And then the penny dropped.

"Then I started to think: 'I'm six-foot-four, black, with dreadlocks'," Idris said before adding with a cheeky grin. "And I am quite handsome."

It's Friday afternoon and Idris is sitting in the grandstand at Concord Oval. He is the big off-season recruit for the Wests Tigers and looks at home in his new club colours. The 26-year-old has presented himself for pre-season training in good shape, no mean feat given he hasn't played since  a season-ending knee injury in April 2015. For this he can thank, at least in part, Shannan Ponton of The Biggest Loser fame. In their first session together some months ago, it was evident Idris was short of a gallop.

"We're in the park, the body is burning, but he is just so intense and motivational when he's speaking to you," Idris said.

The next words spoken were: "All right, I'm doing it for you, I'm not doing it for me anymore!" It's unclear which of them uttered them.

While he looks physically impressive - Idris almost broke his personal best on a shuttle-run challenge in his first training session as a Tiger - it is the mental transformation that is the biggest difference in his return to the NRL. For starters, the giant centre wants to be here.

Back in 2008, then-Canterbury coach Steve Folkes rang Idris and asked if he wanted to make his first-grade debut. Folkes had done this to many a young player in his time, but never got a response quite like this. Idris told him he needed time to call his mum and think about it. After all, professional football would mean more time away from his real loves, Forster and family.

"For me, personally, it wasn't a clear-cut decision to do this," Idris recalled.

The decision to come back to league is much easier. He missed the sport while away from it and returns a different man, with a new perspective. Most importantly, he is better-equipped to handle expectations, particularly his own.

"Trust me, there are a lot of idiots in this world. You can't sit there and take it to heart, you have to understand why they are like that," he said.

"One thing you do learn is that you can't control what other people think. It's not my job to control what other people think. If I can sit there and make a safe zone within myself, that's the ultimate goal, isn't it? To be able to repel what other people think from getting inside of my own head."

Idris is built like a forward but is as fast as a back. He has made 131 NRL appearances across three clubs and has already represented his state and country. However, by his own admission, the junior athletics champion has only scratched the surface of his potential. Now, for the first time, he is enjoying rather than enduring the summer slog that is pre-season training.

A self-confessed "overthinker", Idris has had plenty of time to ponder just what he is capable of. And it has got him intrigued.

"We talk about goals and I've never asked myself 'how good can you be?' What if you put in, have a red-hot dig and reached the pinnacle of how good you can be?

"That's a question mark. I've answered pretty much everything else. I was talking to my brother and he said I'd done a fair bit already. And that's with me resisting it the whole way.

"I used to sit there and fight it because football is what I do, it's not who I am. I used to fight it the whole way.

"What if I don't fight it?"