Why NSW Origin rookie Blake Ferguson has wing and a prayer

REX Sutherland may drive down to Sydney this morning but, then again, who knows. Maybe he'll mow the grass instead.

REX Sutherland may drive down to Sydney this morning but, then again, who knows.

Maybe he'll mow the grass instead. After that, chop some wood and tend a garden which, according to his grandson, fronts the best lookin' house in the top end of Wello.

"Yeah, always working my pop," grins NSW Origin star Blake Ferguson. "Plus, he hates the city so much he rarely leaves Wellington. But I'm told he will come down this week ... maybe.

"Certainly, you hope so.

Knowing that when Ferguson runs onto ANZ Stadium on Wednesday night, more than anything he wants to look into the crowd and find that ageing Aboriginal fella who, while the cameras go searching for more famous relatives like Solomon Haumono or Choc Mundine, is his real inspiration.

By his own admission, Ferguson will break down if he sees him.

"Probably cry my eyes out," he says.

The ultimate tribute for a 23-year-old who, thanks to superstition, cannot scrawl Rex onto his taped wrists.

"That's why I wear the white tape now," Ferguson says. "I used to write stuff on my wrists all the time but then, when I played a good game without anything, I stopped.

Blake Ferguson

"But with my pop and nan, it's not like I need to write anything anyway. What they've taught me ... it's a part of who I am now."

If ever there were a team representing the strength of family, it's the 2013 Blues.

First, you have the Morris twins. Then James Maloney playing for dad. And what about Andrew Fifita being cheered by the brother who is so close that once, when opponents in juniors, he belted his own teammates to defend him?

But this Ferguson family, they are something different again.

Rex and Joan Sutherland have no biological connection to the boy they've raised since 13. But from the time the couple's own son Michael met and married Retta Ferguson, who had given birth to Blake only a year earlier, the boy has been an integral part of their mob too.

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So much so that when the Department of Community Services finally deemed Retta no longer capable of caring for her child, they demanded the boy be whisked straight to their Wellington home where, eventually, another three brothers and a sister would also be raised.

"So they are my grandparents," Ferguson shrugs. "They're my family. They're everything, you know?"

So with nan already in Sydney, having brought one of his younger brothers down for minor surgery last week, Ferguson is now hoping she will be joined by the hardworking retiree who is flat out breaching the end of his street.

Indeed, ask Ferguson if he speaks with his biological parents, or if they are invited to the game, and he says no, "I'm doing my own thing now".

Switching straight back to the couple who, taking him in as an unruly teen, taught everything from respect and cooking spaghetti bolognese to "all those things that happen in a normal family ... things parents are supposed to teach their children".

And yet the biggest lesson only arrived six months ago. Exactly four days after the Canberra Raiders superstar was removed, tired and emotional, from a Canberra music festival.

Now Ferguson, you should know, had some idea what was coming.

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Despite ringing his grandparents every day for the best part of four years - "just asking, you know, what's happening in Wello" - he had now gone one, two, three without contact.

"But I knew they would've watched the news," he says on reflection. "So I knew they knew ... which is why I couldn't call."

Yet on the fourth day, he could avoid them no longer. And so, picking up his mobile, the star rang home to the only family he has ever known, hoping like hell it would be nan's voice that greeted him.

"But it was pop," he grins. "And he got me ... got me good."

To call the ensuing spray his lightbulb moment might seem strange considering, only weeks later, Ferguson would go AWOL from an Emerging Blues Origin camp.

After that, making even greater headlines for that infamous rooftop session with Josh Dugan.

"But it was," he says. "Yes, I've done things that were just dumb, even for a normal person. Like that rooftop stuff with Josh. It's the dumbest thing we ever did together.

"But that chat with pop, it really started to change things for me because it made me realise how, really, when I stuffed up it wasn't me that was hurting the most. It was them. My family.

"The couple of times I got in trouble after that, I really got down because I knew how they'd be feeling.

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"It hurts because I know I wouldn't be here right now without them."

And here is not just representing NSW. No, it's working with indigenous youth. Working to decrease youth suicide rates in Canberra. Even working weekly with his own counsellors.

"And at first that was really hard, especially to have it played out so publicly, because I felt like a real softie," Ferguson says. "But now, you know, I realise my own issues can actually help others.

"Now when I go out and speak with other young people, I just tell them my story. Tell them the truth. And you can see them looking at you thinking, 'Wow, he's playing in the NRL and still needs help to get through life.'

"That's great, to give someone hope. To let them know how that no matter where you are in life you can always get yourself out the other side."