It’s hard to walk past an Australian rugby follower without hearing the words ‘Nathan’ and ‘Cleary’. Then, as you speed up to get away, ‘2027 World Cup’. Then (starting to run now), ‘The Messiah!’
Leave aside the bleeding obvious, tricky questions like whether the Penrith NRL genius would even want to play rugby, whether union could afford him, whether there’s something in the deal for dad Ivan and Mary Fowler too.
Enter the dream state of the Wallabies fan, their happy place since around 2003, and imagine that Santa can leave under their tree their fantasy NRL footballer, who of course would sell his soul to play at Twickenham or Saint-Denis instead of Penrith Park or Cumberland Oval.
Unwillingly, you get sucked into the details. Can a playmaker who drank the 13-a-side, six-tackles-a-set code with their mother’s milk adapt to a completely different kind of game within two years? Or ever? Cleary is used to receiving the ball 20 metres from one, two or three mobile incoming defenders.
What if those defenders are from the land of the giants, closer, more numerous, and trained not just to put him on the ground but turn him inside-out and joint him like a chicken while relieving him of the ball? Ref, that’s not a one-on-one strip! What if he then has three of his own 125-kilo teammates try to turn him back outside in, so he is now a very thin slice of Nathan Cleary in a very big club sandwich?
What if he is supporting a tackled teammate who is no fellow genius like Isaah Yeo or Dylan Edwards but a hunk of scrummaging gristle who needs him to get over the ball and stay on his feet, against the aforementioned behemoths?
Antoine Dupont during France’s gold medal win in the Paris Olympics.Credit: Getty Images
Short version: union has always been a more technical game than league, but in the last two decades, along with increasingly sophisticated technicalities, its players have grown at least 25 per cent larger than league players.
If only he could avoid the collisions and post-collisions, he might be spared. But as it is, the centimetre-perfect instincts with which Cleary orchestrates an NRL game, honed through a lifetime and a genetic code, only crystallise how much the two codes have diverged. If he played union, he would be entering a world that does not keep changing its rules to protect playmakers and keep them on their dazzling pedestal.
Which is not to say some skills aren’t transferrable. Joseph-Aukuso Suaalii’s first few games in union, a code he played while growing up, suggest that he can be another of the big league athletes who can make a successful transition as a flyer (Israel Folau, Lote Tuqiri, Wendell Sailor) or a battering ram (Marika Koroibete).
In the open spaces where athleticism takes over, yes, it’s possible, bearing in mind that while it worked out for Jason Robinson, it didn’t for Roger Tuivasa-Scheck. Similar players, 30 years apart. It worked for Andrew Walker but not for Benji Marshall. Also similar players, also separated by decades.
Storm star Harry Grant could make a great go of it in rugby.Credit: Getty
It’s lifetimes since we saw the best of the code-hoppers: Michael O’Connor, Ben Kennedy, Russell Fairfax, and if you want you can keep going back to the Moose (Rex Mossop) and Dally Messenger.
The dream of the genuine cross-code superstar is lodged in the Australian DNA, which is probably why it keeps resurfacing against so much evidence. Except at the most superficial level, the codes resemble each other less now than they ever did.
The rare utility player – Andy Farrell, Sonny Bill Williams, Mat Rogers – made more or less successful crossovers.
And this is what those Wallabies tragics with their wishlists and pretend chequebooks are craving: a player of influence. Not an attractive runner like Suaalii, not an added extra, but an architect, a visionary, a playmaker. A person who can fall out of the sky, steer the Wallabies around the park and win a goddamn World Cup.
Credit: Simon Letch
Kalyn Ponga is the next name mentioned. The rumour mill churned him out again this week.
With his union background and evasive skills, Ponga would seem a natural fit. But as good as he is, he lacks the kicking game for a union No.10, he’s near the cusp of concussion overload, and he’d prefer to play for the All Blacks after living there for five years as a kid.
In your fantasy game, Ponga would be a buy-high risk who might bankrupt you. Enormous potential to be another Damien MacKenzie with a team of All Blacks around him, but not the Australian messiah.
If they must have a messiah, there’s one name that stands out.
‘You want your Australian Antoine Dupont? His name is Harry Grant.’
The best rugby union player in the world, judged by polls and general consensus, is Antoine Dupont. The French scrum-half is tough and composed, a distributor who is able to see the runner and the gap simultaneously and pick out the right receiver, the right angle, the right space. As a matchmaker, he should be on Married at First Sight.
He might not have a rifling pass, but he doesn’t need it. He’s one of those scrum-halves with the time to stand up, pause the game, consider options, and decide to run, pass or kick.
Last year, after a quick café au lait, he decided to play sevens. Within what seemed like a week, France went from rank outsiders to Olympic gold medallists. His brilliance as a scrum-half, incidentally, explains why New Zealand have struggled since Aaron Smith’s retirement and why Australia, until they solve their weakness at No.9, can’t break into the global top four or even top six.
Dupont, in other words, plays pretty much like your ideal league dummy half. His brilliance brings to mind Cameron Smith, who had everything for a union No.9 except a little bit of acceleration, which might have been why he was never seriously pursued as a Wallaby.
He also kicked goals from everywhere. Funny how Rugby Australia, with benefactors’ millions to spend on an NRL messiah, never looked in the obvious place.
Smith’s successor as the best league dummy-half is Melbourne’s Harry Grant. He is the leaguie most reminiscent of Dupont, too, with the kicking game to go with the smarts. He’s quicker off the mark than Smith was, and his equal as a defender. He’ll be 29 in 2027. He’s coached by Craig Bellamy. He’s a pivotal reason the Melbourne Storm keep making the NRL finals. He has everything a union scrum-half needs to influence games.
So there you go. The importance of the distributor, No.9, has traditionally been overshadowed by the receiver, No.10, but the acumen of players like Dupont, Aaron Smith and Faf de Klerk in today’s continuous-phase rugby has made the scrum-half the centre of influence. It’s not entirely contemporary, either: Australia won its two World Cups with Nick Farr-Jones and George Gregan in charge of distribution.
You want your Australian Antoine Dupont? His name is Harry Grant. He won’t get Suaalii-sized headlines or sell the merch, but he would influence more results. That’s who I’d spend my money on. League dummy-half, union scrum-half, natural transition. It wouldn’t take him two years, and he wouldn’t even need to change the number on his back.
No worries, any time. I’ll take cash, cheque or EFTPOS.
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