This is the end and the beginning for Jarome Luai, a man misunderstood

It’s NRL grand final week and, really, what’s new in Jarome Luai’s world?

“Nothing, brah,” he says. Then his eyes dart south.

“My shoes,” he ventures. “My shoes are new. Stole them from [Tyrone] Peachey. I was just playing some basketball out the back there, so I had to steal his shoes from his locker.”

Several other sets of eyes are also now examining the charcoal-coloured trainers, which are definitely not new, and also right now receiving more attention than they’d have ever dreamed of even back when they were fresh out of the box.

This is the Luai effect. That boyish charisma and quick tongue are partly what made Mount Druitt trendy. These days, when the masses are not in hot pursuit of Nathan Cleary, they want a piece of his halves partner.

It’s why Wests Tigers came in hot with a five-year contract worth upwards of $6 million. Which, in turn, is why Luai should be able to afford a new pair of kicks. “Nah, I’ve got three kids, bro,” he says. “Haven’t got too much money.”

Luai does not miss a beat. He even lands the half-beats, like a pair of quavers to the mere mortal’s crotchet. That kind of pace is not everyone’s cup of tea – not even his own, on the odd occasion he has apologised for a comment or social media post. But, as he said a couple of years ago: “If you’re not hated then you’re not doing it right”.

It has to be said that if this is the barometer, the 27-year-old is only doing it half-right, because for every Selwyn Cobbo, Reece Walsh and Parramatta fan there is a Penrith supporter for whom “Romey is my #1 homie”. That sign will likely be one of a few flying from Accor Stadium’s stands on Sunday night, when Luai makes a fifth consecutive grand final appearance.

This is the end and it is the beginning. The fold in the letter of a rugby league career. We have already read all the words above the crease: St Marys junior develops through the grades to emerge as Penrith’s premier five-eighth, and finishes up with his best season yet to quiet the chorus of those critics who claim he does not possess chief-playmaking mettle.

The second half of the story is a TBC: how the big Tigers move actually pans out, whether he enjoys it or does not, and if he is indeed what the three-time wooden-spooners desperately need to get back up off the canvas. Wests Tigers chief executive Shane Richardson certainly thinks so, lionising Luai as “the seminal signing” and “our Greg Inglis”.

But before all that there is Sunday’s last dance. That push for a Penrith four-peat with the group who helped mould him into his current form. And until the full-time whistle blows, Luai is attempting to preserve the present for as long as humanly possible. He wants the energy to be the same as every other year – a familiar, positive experience.

From his perspective, that was realised as soon as the Panthers saw off the Sharks in last weekend’s preliminary final. Reaching the grand final is the achievement in itself, he reasons. But he also knows from experience that the outcome does alter the overall memory, and that memories will soon be all the more important. A premiership win or a loss to the Melbourne Storm has the capacity to recast the way the entirety of 2024 will be stored in his grey matter and then retrieved intermittently well into the future. That is the trick of nostalgia, and regret, and the fragile balance between the two.

At least the more formative moments of the past 15 years have already been consolidated and safely transferred to his cerebral cortex. This week, as he stands – in Peachey’s shoes – on the grass of Penrith’s training ground, he is prompted to reach into that long-term repository to recall the day he signed his first contract with the club.

“I might have been in the car with my old man,” he says. “I was really, really young, and it wasn’t much money, but I remember my dad tearing up. And we were talking about it, saying this could be our ticket out. That’s what it was for us.

“Growing up in Mt Druitt, that’s how we looked at footy and sport – it’s a way out for our family. It was, like, an under-13s contract, but we were celebrating like we’d made it.”

Luai, his parents and three younger siblings were not immune to the suburb’s socioeconomic hardship. It is what landed his dad, Martin, in jail for drug trafficking – a desperate attempt to keep his struggling family afloat that culminated in two years inside a Brisbane maximum security prison.

Martin, who missed his son’s debut against the Newcastle Knights in 2018 (he listened to the radio commentary from his cell) and the birth of his first grandchild, Jarome’s son Israel, has since labelled that chapter “the biggest mistake I’ve made in my life”.

“My Dad was the missing piece in my life and at first, I really struggled,” Jarome said at the time. “I debuted and he wasn’t there. Baby was born and he wasn’t there. I’m the oldest child, and with three younger siblings I had to step into that father role for my family.”

Since Martin’s release in 2020, he has been physically present for all the big moments, but the ordeal forced Luai to grow up before many young men do. That maturity has not always been evident to the public and his 250,000 social media followers, who receive a regular dose of Luai doing the bad ass agitator thing, including even that apparent “know your worth” pot shot at his own head coach, Ivan Cleary, during his contract stand-off.

Or in the sheds after the 2022 grand final: sunnies on his face, ski goggles around his neck and cigar between his teeth, with one hand resting firmly on the Provan-Summons Trophy. Those premiership celebrations – and Luai was not the only protagonist – were denounced as tasteless, particularly by the Eels-aligned already miffed by Luai’s pre-game “You can call us daddy” remark.

But to point these out in a vacuum omits the myriad other Instagram posts dedicated to his partner and three children, and the vicarious effect of the death threats and abuse so often hurled his way. It also discounts a nagging sense that the uppity persona may be more a facade than absolute truth, especially given how polite he is in person. When Luai answers every question quietly and articulately, it is genuinely hard to place the “arrogant” so-and-so you hear about.

Teammates say he has attempted and failed to correct this perception, so figures he may as well ham up the pantomime villain act. Last year, on an episode of the Ebbs and Flows podcast, Nathan Cleary described his long-time teammate and friend as “the most misunderstood person ever, I reckon – in our sport, anyway”. Luai seems surprised. “Clez said that?” He sure did. It warrants another thoughtful response.

“I think back a few years,” he says. “I was sort of playing the victim, and saying I’m not really in control of that. People will judge you on the way you play the game of footy. But I’ve definitely just accepted that, and just [started] understanding that you can’t make everyone happy. That not everyone’s opinion matters. The opinions of my teammates, my coaches, my family – they’re the ones that matter most. They’re the ones that are around me every day.

“And also biting back. I’m a dude where, if I get pushed around, I’m one to stand up for myself, and always have been like that. But you can do that in a better way. I’m a role model to a lot of these kids, and a lot of these kids have phones these days, and they’re exposed to social media and media, and the world’s changed so much [since] I was a youngster back in the day. So the way you carry yourself, the way you deal with things, goes a long way.”

The shift in approach is evident when Jahrome Hughes is brought up. And not just Jahrome Hughes the Melbourne halfback and Dally M medallist, but Jahrome Hughes the player who, during the boozy hours after the Storm beat the Panthers in the 2020 grand final, made a point of mocking Mount Druitt online.

“Oh, the video?” Yep, that’s the one. “They were on the piss, and that’s why phones shouldn’t be used around alcohol,” Luai says. “It’s done now. One of the bros who said it, I’ve got a lot of respect for him. He definitely changed on the drink, and I’ve had some bad incidents on it as well. But we did use that as a bit of motivation, and I think you have to if your hometown means so much to you.”

It means so much to Luai that he has no intention of moving away to be closer to Tigers territory.

“This is my home, and we’re real protective of that,” he says. “I had the best childhood here … so I won’t leave. I want my kids to grow up in the area as well, and experience the greatness of Penrith and 2770. You know what I mean?”

He will, however, have to bid farewell to one of the game’s most successful halves partnerships. The winning rate of the Cleary-Luai combination in the NRL stands at 87.5 per cent, or 77 wins from 88 games.

Nathan Cleary helped him “grow as a man and as a player”. The latter has been especially obvious this year, when Cleary’s various injury-enforced absences have allowed Luai to step up from ball-playing sidekick to main man.

The pair have played together on and off since their days representing Penrith in the under-16s Harold Matthews competition, and became a fully formed unit during Luai’s breakout NRL season in 2020.

“I knew I was in the team, and I’d sort of solidified that six and could just start getting confidence in playing on the bigger stage,” he says. “I always used him as the benchmark for me, so I always thought I was chasing him growing up and coming through the grades. He debuted at 18; it took me three [more] years to debut. So I’ve just always used him as the stars, and I’ve been chasing the stars.”

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