Doha: Graham Arnold was convinced Aaron Mooy was ready to call it quits.
It was a few weeks out from the Socceroos’ do-or-die World Cup qualifiers in June and Mooy was stuck in China, half a world away from his wife and kids and still quietly reeling from a family tragedy.
He hadn’t played in months and, with the Chinese government enforcing two weeks of quarantine and an additional 10 days of self-isolation for anyone re-entering the country, his club Shanghai Port was refusing to release him for international duty.
Aaron Mooy is the key to everything for the Socceroos in Qatar.Credit:Getty
“I think he was pretty much done,” Arnold says. “I was over in Scotland, and before I went there, texted him, like, ‘What are you doing? Where are you at?’ Because he wasn’t back from China. His club wasn’t making it easy for him. Mentally, he was shot.
“He sent me a text: ‘Arnie, do you really need me?’ I said, ‘F— yes. Absolutely, mate, we need you.’”
Arnold arranged for Australia’s strength and conditioning coach, Andrew Clark, to meet Mooy in Glasgow for a one-on-one training camp – almost a mini pre-season, to physically and mentally prepare him for the most important games of his life. It cost Mooy about $350,000 in lost wages.
An elated Aaron Mooy jumps for joy after Australia beat Peru to reach the World Cup finals.Credit:Getty
“The Chinese just didn’t pay him while he was with us,” Arnold says.
It was worth every cent. The thought of what Mooy did next still floors Arnold. If Andrew Redmayne, the “Grey Wiggle”, was the face of Australia’s miraculous triumph over Peru, Mooy was the backbone. And the lungs. And the nervous system.
Coaxed back from the brink of retirement, the 32-year-old produced arguably the two finest performances of his international career: 90 minutes in their win over the UAE and then 120 minutes against Peru, capped off with a penalty in the shootout that took them to the World Cup.
If that’s what he produced with zero match fitness, then it might be worth getting excited about what he can do for the Socceroos after five impressive months at Celtic under former Socceroos boss Ange Postecoglou. He’ll be the first name on Arnold’s team sheet in Qatar at the base of the midfield and the get-out-of-jail card for any teammates under pressure in possession.
Aaron Mooy’s move to Celtic has exposed him to the highest levels of club football in the UEFA Champions League.Credit:Getty
“He’s an absolute joy to play with,” says Socceroos midfield partner Jackson Irvine.
“There are players who provide you a real sense of security. It comes in different forms. Like, to use Mile [Jedinak] as an example: whenever Mile played, it was just that feeling of looking over your shoulder and knowing he was there, his presence.
“With Aaron, it’s a totally different kind of security, where it’s just total trust in being able to give him the ball in any situation, and that he’ll be able to find a solution – and not just a solution, but usually the right solution. Being able to take positions between the lines … you can be really prepared, like, ‘This will come to me’. He’ll find that space, he’ll find that pass.”
It’s a good thing Mooy’s football does the talking for him because otherwise he’d be clinically mute. Tony Soprano might call him the strong, silent type. Former teammates have recounted days when he would turn up for work, pull on his boots, train, shower and leave without uttering much more than a few words, so it should be no great surprise he ducks media commitments whenever possible.
“I don’t like to talk about myself,” a sheepish Mooy told reporters at a press conference this week in Doha. “I just try and play well, and hopefully that inspires people.”
Aaron Mooy at Australia’s Doha base, the Aspire Academy.Credit:Getty
That, Postecoglou suspects, is partly why he’s so underrated by certain parts of the broader football world.
“A lot of that, with players like Aaron, it just comes down to the kind of people they are,” Postecoglou says. “He’s not one of these guys who seeks the limelight too much. He’s one of these guys who probably gets appreciated more by the people he plays with and the fans that he represents rather than the greater public.”
Perhaps the biggest splash Mooy has ever made in international headlines was when former adult film star turned social media influencer Mia Khalifa named him one of her top three favourite footballers – alongside David Beckham and Zinedine Zidane – and compared his personality to that of notoriously shy NBA star Kawhi Leonard.
She wasn’t the first to put him in that sort of elite company. Born and raised in Sydney’s western suburbs, Mooy signed a scholarship deal at 16 years of age with Bolton Wanderers, and his old academy coach, Peter Farrell, could see shades of Zizou in him back then, too.
“People thought he was maybe a bit lazy,” Farrell told The Bolton News. “You’ll never see him tackle. You need players around him to do that. But he reminds me a bit of Zidane – he’s even got the bald head.
“He isn’t as good a player, of course, but he has that grace about the way he plays. For me, Aaron had it all – he could go with his left foot, his right foot, he was physically strong on the ball. I couldn’t believe [Bolton] released him.”
Others have dubbed him the “Pasty Pirlo”. It makes sense: Like retired Italian star Andrea Pirlo, what Mooy lacks in foot speed, he makes up for with speed of thought, vision and understanding of space. These are the sort of nicknames you want as a footballer, although they probably don’t sit easily with the man himself given his modest nature.
“Some leaders shoot their mouth off – they’re yelling all the time,” Arnold says. “Aaron’s one of them who leads just by action.
“If he chases back, does a slide tackle, the rest of the boys say, ‘F—, look at Aaron’. And they start doing the same. We all know he doesn’t talk much. But he’s a fantastic leader. Even in that game against Peru, when I took Maty [Ryan] off – I didn’t tell him where to put the captain’s armband, or who to give it to; he just walked straight to Aaron and put it on his arm. That’s the respect that he has from the boys.”
Mooy had a difficult upbringing. His birth name was actually Aaron Kuhlman, but his mother changed it after separating from his father when he was a toddler. Mooy has met him only once since, to have him sign forms for his Dutch passport, and after the arrival of his first child, Skyler, said he couldn’t understand how his father could be so distant.
“I don’t think I’ll ever talk to him,” Mooy told News Corp in 2016, back when he was playing for Melbourne City, tearing up the A-League in tandem with Harry Novillo and Bruno Fornaroli as part of perhaps the best attacking trio the competition has seen. “Even as a kid I didn’t want to know him. I was always a bit disappointed; it was so long without him having any contact.”
Last year, Mooy’s brother, Alex, passed away suddenly.
“Love you bro. We will miss you every day. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you,” he wrote in a heartbreaking Instagram tribute. “I thought after the birth of Kilian you would heal and now it’s [too] late. I know you are at peace now and you will be watching over all of us.”
None of this was lost on his teammates, who rallied around him from afar, and then, when he could join them in camp, in the flesh.
“It’s small moments,” says midfielder Ajdin Hrustic. “First of all, that he decides to come to camp – it just shows that he feels happy to be here, and that he does it with pleasure, and with his heart.
“All I can do is take my hat off to him, because what he’s done for us … he’s come from China; his brother’s passed away. Coming from two weeks in a hotel, or however long it was, and he played a 90-minute game, then 120 minutes, and stepped up and took a penalty? I’ve got nothing but respect for him.”
Today, Mooy is happy, fit, firing on all cylinders and ready to take on the world with his other family – the Socceroos – having not only answered the call from Arnold, but one from within.
“Probably the little boy inside of me that started playing football, that’s probably what motivated me,” he says. “I knew that if I was going to be involved, I didn’t want to let anyone down.
“We’re lucky to be here – there’s only 26 of us. When you put the jersey on, you’ve got the responsibility to do the best for the nation.”
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