JAMES Graham is always disappearing. Gone for a feed of chicken pasta. Or secret ocean swims.

And good luck sharing a coffee before games, with superstition dictating that be drank alone, too.

“But Jimmy, he even disappears before kick off,’’ fellow Bulldog Josh Reynolds laughs. “Goes and does his hair.

“You wouldn’t think it, eh?

“But that’s the thing ... there really is so much to him you don’t know.”

So who the bloody hell is James ‘Bupa’ Graham?

For if Reynolds is right, what we know of this mysterious Canterbury captain is what we see. And what was see is chaos.

Like, for starters, that hairstyle best described as Unkempt Viking. Or a complexion which, starting whiter than Panadol, grows increasingly red with every dropped pass, missed chance or can-you-fookin-believe-it refereeing call.

In Graham, you have the Grand Final villain who gnawed an ear. Busted a jaw. Even went and turned Good Friday, bad. And so, we think we know him.

Convinced this English madman is all havoc, hurt and hooked index finger. Loudest bloke in the room, right?

“Ah, no,’’ Graham smiles, sitting now with League Central on a sunny Belmore Sunday. “Socially, I actually struggle a bit.

“If I’m among people I know people, everything is OK. But if not, I find it hard. Have trouble generating conversation.”

So crossing a white sideline, it transforms you?

“Am I a different person off the field? Dunno,’’ Graham continues with a shrug. “I’m probably less animated. More relaxed.

“I mean, outside footy I don’t have any real interests. Just chill. There’s not that much to write about really.”

And for the most part, we journalists agree.

Indeed, who has time given most of our English attention is on Slammin’ Sammy Burgess and his wonderful life all Gladiators, Clive Churchills and elegant summer weddings.

While Graham may be misread, Burgess is read, watched, dissected, replayed. Captain Everywhere. A fella who, through no fault of his own, ignites magazine bidding wars simply by removing his shirt.

Yet when Graham and partner Taryn welcomed their first baby, daughter Harlow, into the world only two months ago ... well, it barely rated a line.

Just as this British bulldog’s parents, retired school teachers John and Dianne, will cheer anonymously inside ANZ Stadium on Friday night — yet another visit conducted far from any Channel Nine cameras.

“But please,’’ a Canterbury staffer pleads prior to our interview, “don’t go big on family. James prefers to keep that quiet.”

OK, so what else shouldn’t we know?

Well, according to Reynolds, the knockabout No.6 who rooms with his skipper on all away trips, Graham is hardly the perfect partner. And why?

“Ricky Gervais,’’ the playmaker laughs. “Every night before we play away, I’m in our hotel room, lights out trying to sleep when it starts.

“Jimmy’s headphones in with a Gervais podcast blaring. And every trip it’s the same. No TV. No movies. Just those Gervais podcasts over and over and over ... weird.”

Josh Morris agrees.

“Always disappearing to be by himself,’’ the Dogs centre laughs. “Coffees by himself, rock pool swims too.

“Day before games, I’ll see James’ car parked in the main street and say ‘mate, where was my invite for coffee’. He just smiles and says ‘no, no, I’ve gotta do that one on my own’.”

It’s the same deal with that chicken pasta dish Graham must cook and eat on match eve. Or the game day swim, which, in either an ocean or hotel pool, is on regardless of temperature.

For while Graham undoubtedly plays with his heart on sleeve, what beats that bloody mass is everything unseen.

And, no, not simply the raft of superstitions he’s currently trying to kick. Like searching out said chicken pasta from restaurants when playing away. Or drinking a litre of soda water each day while always driving the same route to training.

No, what really drives Graham is his new family. His need to lead better.

A fella who, having already left one life across the globe, now creates another with efforts only men like halfback Moses Mbye see.

“Which is why I only need look at James Graham across the dressing room,” Mbye says, “and I want to play for him”.

Occasionally, the rest of us get a glimpse too. Take last March, when Graham growled about the NRL having no right to determine wether he returned to the field following a headknock.

His controversial “we know the risks” statement not only drawing battlelines, but heavy criticism.

“But I stand by what I said,’’ Graham says now, a year on.

“A lot of people writing and talking about concussion, they have little experience with it. They think research is reading something online.

“Yet then they’ll say I don’t understand. Don’t know what is best for me. Well, I feel strongly that I can make decisions for myself.”

But if you’re too, err, concussed?

“Then,” he adds, “I have complete trust in this club.”

And here, no matter you take on the issue, is the heartbeat for that pulsating lump on his sleeve.

Complete faith in self. Complete faith in those you trust. Now give me the bloody ball.

“And sometimes, yeah, we still have to get Jimmy to turn it down a notch,” Morris laughs. “But as a leader, you won’t find better.

“When James Graham says he’s going to do something ... he isn’t going anywhere until it’s done.”