Fifteen missed calls in two hours is never a good sign.

The State of Origin cult hero had been out of play for a couple of hours in the wards of the Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital on Tuesday in his role as a hospital ambassador when he checked his phone and realised he was in demand.

“With all those calls I feared the worst, but then I saw who they were from,’’ Gillmeister said as he soaked up Brisbane’s winter sun in the courtyard of his warmly regarded “local’’, the Stafford Tavern.

Several were from football mates playfully suggesting “are you available for the Origin on Wednesday? They need you.’’

But among the others were a batch of parents asking him to tutor their children on the art of tackling, small but vivid proof of a game-changing trend sweeping the rugby league world where prevention is challenging cure.

Parents are so fearful of the consequences of head knocks and concussion they are getting in early by calling Gillmeister, rugby league’s Minister for Defence, for time-honoured tips to set their youngsters on the right path.

“It is good that parents are aware of the head knocks and want their kids to do it properly.’’

And the biggest mistake kids make?

“Getting their feet in the wrong position. Everyone talks about your arms and the head but feet in the wrong position are where the trouble starts. It’s a bit like boxing. Just get one leg in front of the other. That’s what I tell them. That means you can get your head out of the way.’’

Gillmeister does not need to produce scan results to prove that, despite his nickname The Axe and his reputation as one of the game’s hardest hitters, he amazingly, due to a well rehearsed technique, managed to keep his noggin is solid shape during 14 years of senior football which included 22 State of Origins and the Broncos first two premierships.

He looks fit. He talks well. He spins funny yarns in his Paul Hogan style way and delivers punchlines in the larrikin, working-class tone of a man who, like Hogan, spent time on building sites and once had a job with Goodyear Tyres at Rocklea, where he would drive around the city in his ute picking up tractor tyres (“good for your fitness’’).

At age 61, nearly 30 years after his last game, it’s so far, so good.

“A few years ago I was talking to a doctor when I was really busy and told him sometimes I would be in a room at home and couldn’t remember what I was looking for but he said “Gilly, you have too much going on in your head. That’s all. If you are driving home and can’t recall how to get there, that’s the time to call me.’’

But he accepts others are not so fortunate and the increased threat of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), a form of dementia created by frequent head injuries which greats such as Wally Lewis are suffering from, “is a big thing.’’

“I do worry about some blokes. One of my room-mates at the Roosters, Brendan Hall, who I lived with for four years has early stages of that. I love him.

“His memory from things that happened many years ago is fine. But the recent stuff is not so good ... I keep in contact with him and his wife.

“The thing is I can’t recall him having any (concussion) issues when we were playing.

“It’s a worry. But you cannot stop contact sports. Especially young boys. They need to get that aggression out. The world is a bit mad so if they can get their anger out boxing or playing rugby league that’s how you do it.

“I get my blood tested every year since I was 40. It’s important. As for my career I would not change a thing.’’

THE LOCAL HERO

Walking into the endearingly unpretentious Stafford Tavern with Gillmeister is like walking into Australia Zoo with Robert Irwin.

He lives a 10 minute walk away and he’s been popping in since 1988 when he moved here after his father Ron rang him and said “I’ve bought you a house’’ and Trevor replied “that’s great’’ before his father added “but you’ve got to pay for it.’’

At least 12 different Tavern patrons said g’day to him or vice versa, from a couple of lads in high viz jackets to two old boys near the entrance, to a lady who asked why our photographer was taking snaps of him.

Gillmeister said “it’s for Australia’s Most Wanted’’ and the fact the reaction to his quip was relatively subdued and accepting made me ask “Gilly is there a story you haven’t told me?’’

When we walked in it felt like just another pub, with the pokies to the left and the racing screens straight ahead. But the warmth from the locals to Gillmeister was so genuine when we left it felt as if we were leaving his grandma’s house.

“I remember coming here after the Broncos won the premierships (in 1992-93) and it felt as if I didn’t pay for a drink for a couple of years. They do good steaks here as well.’’

They do indeed. We both order the Angus Rib fillet and were not disappointed.

THE SWEETEST VICTORY

This year is the 30th anniversary of Gillmeister captaining an understrength Queensland State of Origin team beating NSW 3-0 with Gillmeister famously climbing from his hospital bed with blood poisoning due to a cut knee in the last game at Suncorp Stadium.

Doctors told team manager Chris “Choppy’’ Close Gillmeister could die if the gamble backfired.

“Choppy said “I couldn’t think of a better place to die than Lang Park.’ I wasn’t trying to be a hero. We had all these young blokes in the team and they were getting better and better.

“One big memory I have is the boys didn’t know I was playing. I remember getting on the bus and looking down the aisles and seeing the boys smiling.’’

After losing the first State of Origin Queensland are under the pump entering game two and Gillmeister wants them to kick to feisty Blue danger man Spencer Leniu rather than avoid him and be inspired by Origin’s greatest figure, Arthur Beetson.

“People say they should be inspired by the 1995 side but I say go back to Arthur in the first game in 1980 running on at age 35 for Queensland with a body that had copped so much. Everything traces back to him. Players would not be getting $30,000 a game if not for Arthur.

And, finally, we finish where we started by talking about the joys of his great sporting love …

THE TERROR TACKLER

Hearing Gillmeister talk about tackling is like hearing Jamie Oliver talk about his favourite pasta dish.

“A perfect tackle it is like the perfect golf swing – you don’t feel anything because your timing is spot on.

“It’s the best thing ever when you hit someone in the guts and you hear the air come out of them and there’s that sound ... arrrrrrgh.’’

“That’s best sound ever. Then they roll over and look at you and you give them a wink or a nod.

“My father taught me and my brother how to tackle in the backyard. He said “if you can tackle someone one-on-one without help you will always make the team. That made sense to me at the time.’’

And it still does.

STEAK RATING: Two rib fillets 9.5 out of 10.