Right on cue, however, rival clubs smelt a rat: why would Inglis walk away from the remaining $1.5 million remaining on his contract? If he’s going to recoup some of that money in newly created development, ambassador and indigenous roles for his club, surely that money must go into Souths’ salary cap? And if so, how much? The distrust was very rugby league. They are valid concerns, sure, but the debate overshadowed the critical role Inglis can now play. "I think what we’re going to see now is Greg, as someone who has made a mark in football, who has committed to his community, who wants to make a difference ... is now ready to take that next step into real leadership both in and outside of the game," offered respected broadcaster Stan Grant, a giant of the Indigenous community in his own right, on Macquarie Sports Radio. Mentoring roles in and out of sport await Greg Inglis, seen here during an Indigenous All Stars camp. Credit:NRL Photos From him rising from the pack during the Indigenous side’s war cry before the All Stars match in 2015, to his famous "Goanna" post-try celebrations, to the "Deadly" mural on Cleveland Street, Redfern, which depicts the Souths fullback in full cry, Inglis has represented his culture with pride.

Coming to Souths turbo-charged that legacy. He went perilously close to joining Brisbane in 2010 when he was squeezed out of Melbourne because of the salary cap scandal but found his way to the Bunnies at the last minute. One of the first people to take him under their wing at Redfern was the late Sol Bellear, also an Indigenous giant who had been chairman of the Aboriginal Medical Service and a Souths board member. "It wasn't until I came here to Redfern [that I met] Sol Bellear," Ingis said last year. "He was a brilliant leader in the Indigenous community. He was on the freedom bus ride back in the day and lead the way for Indigenous people. It wasn't until I got here that he took me under his wing. He was one of the key reasons why I came here." Soon after, Inglis told then Souths chief executive Shane Richardson, who is now the club’s general manager of football: "My kids will die at 50. That’s the average age that an Aboriginal kid dies. I don’t want my kids to die at 50." From that moment onwards, Inglis became the reluctant role model, specifically concerned about Indigenous health.

Big supporter: Federal MP Linda Burney. Credit:Dominic Lorrimer His passion for his people was never more noticeable than during All Stars week. Thurston admits he didn’t know much about his culture until he played for the Indigenous team for the first time in 2010. "But GI always had that connection," Thurston says. "Everyone would just hang onto every word when he spoke. He inspired so many people in those camps. He was a leader of men. Still is." Federal MP Linda Burney, who in 2016 became the first Aboriginal woman to be elected to the House of Representatives, was also part of those camps. "The care and compassion he showed to younger players and the way he conducted himself, he’s just really well mannered," she recalls. "He had old-fashioned values that will always resonate. What he did for Aboriginal rugby league and players has been instrumental in where things are today."

Inglis said earlier this week that his mental health wasn’t a factor behind his decision to retire, but it’s certainly something he's had to keep in check. He was the best player on the field in Queensland’s loss to NSW in State of Origin I last year but was on the phone to his therapist the morning after the match to discuss how he was feeling. There are genuine concerns about his post-football life, although Thurston is optimistic. When Souths gave him the week off to determine his future, one of the first people he called was Thurston, who had gone through a similar process last year. Deadly: Greg Inglis underneath his Redfern mural. Credit:Grant Trouville, NRL Photos "He said he’d made up his mind," Thurston recalls. "I was surprised at how good he felt about it. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He’d been thinking about it for a while. He sounded happy and content. I’d been the same: I’d started talking about it and felt content and happy with the decision I’d made. He said, ‘That’s exactly how I feel’." Nevertheless, leaving the sanctuary of the field for a permanent life as an inspirational role model is a heavy burden for anyone to carry. Inglis was swamped with job offers within hours of his retirement announcement.

Souths are carefully crafting his life post-footy but people are genuinely concerned about how he will handle the responsibility. On grand final day last year, he lost the Australian captaincy within hours of getting it when he was charged with drink driving offences while returning from the Koori Knockout in Dubbo. Loading "It's about responsibility and reciprocity," Burney says, bluntly. "That’s what Aboriginal culture is built on. People like GI have a responsibility. I hear the argument, ‘They’re young men. They make mistakes’. No. You’re in a leadership position like a politician, like a lot of other Aboriginal people in leadership positions. We don’t get second chances. I don’t see this as any different. If you’re a full-time sportsperson, that’s your job. Yes, they’ve given a lot — but so have many other careers as well." Burney doesn't know what that will look like. She says she's "always thought he had a career in politics" but says the choice is his. "Knowing Greg, he will have his boots on the ground, inspiring young people and being consistent about it," she says. "You can't put a price on that."