Real reason Andrew Johns isn’t the greatest of them all

If you want to start an all-in stink that even Tommy Raudonikis would get excited by, just lob this question at your nearest watering hole.

A halfback in rugby league is as pivotal to success as a quarterback to an NFL team or Charlie Sheen to Two and a Half Men.

Even with extensive rehearsals and a stellar support cast, no premiership charge is a chance without a quality number seven — even if their replacement is serviceable and sober.

But while the role has enjoyed prime ministerial prominence since the game’s advent in 1908, its stocks have soared in recent years thanks to a golden era of playmaking talent.

The 21st century has been a glorious fiesta of superstar halfbacks, with the NRL’s profile ballooning on a generation of box office ballplayers with skillsets as broad as their wallets.

Four names stand out from this era on the Mount Rushmore of modern halfbacks: Andrew Johns, Johnathan Thurston, Cooper Cronk and Nathan Cleary.

To celebrate the launch of the new news.com.au app, we’re celebrating the people, places and events we’ll never forget from the first quarter of the 21st century by asking for Australia’s view. Our 25@25 series will finally put to bed the debates you’ve been having at the pub and around dinner tables for years – and some that are just too much fun not to include.

But if you could only select one to earn you a repeat set while marketing premium deodorant, who would it be?

Of course, Johns’ masterful domination of the early 2000s makes him the default choice for 95 per cent of romantic millennials and 100 per cent of Novocastrians.

Born with every conceivable footy attribute and a backside like a rhinoceros beetle, the Newcastle native is a divine Maradona-esque figure in league — not just for his footballing mastery either.

A well-documented party boy, Johns achieved everything in rugby league across a glittering 14-year career despite being hampered with ill-fitting pants and a hangover the entire time.

However, what further set apart the four time Dally M Medalist was his profound influence at Origin level.

Considering names like Brett Kimmorley, Mitchell Pearce and Jarrod Mullen, Johns set such lofty standards for NSW that he even ended the careers of Blues halfbacks just with his shadow alone.

Yep, the Eighth Immortal was so outrageously talented that he could even beat New South Wales, and to be fair, if Queensland had any sensibility they’d smelt Wally’s statue and replace it with a big blue arse in his honour.

But despite being an unlikely Maroons legend, does Johns outshine a champion terrier like Thurston?

Andrew Johns weaves some magic.

Johnathan Thurston saw the game like nobody else. AAP Image/Michael Chambers.

Even though halfbacks have always been the smallest guy on the team, Thurston took it to the next level by mastering the game despite 75 per cent of his playing weight being his boots.

Put simply, the two-time premiership winner wasn’t your traditional bubble-wrapped halfback train-surfing on the back of his forwards.

That’s because he was a pound-for-pound bull-ant who seemed to enjoy digging in to the line and getting his ribs crumpled like a venetian blind.

It was this dogged tenacity that not only lead to four Dally M awards and three Golden Boots, but also ensured Thurston remains universally adored to this day by everyone in rugby league except Spencer Leniu.

But if Johns had the magic and Thurston had the perforated lungs, it was Cronk who had the black market software.

The human equivalent of an Excel formula, Cronk was programmed for any scenario in rugby league imaginable — even fobbing off Cameron Smith from his wedding.

Everything about the Storm general was square; he played square, he kicked square and besides his schnozz, he even looked square.

While this saw him initially dismissed as a mere cog in Craig Bellamy’s operating system, Cronk silenced any doubts about his roboticism by firstly falling in love, then by following his heart to Sydney and immediately adapting to the Roosters’ game plan.

Eventually retiring in 2019, Cronk sailed off in to the sunset with back-to-back premierships at Bondi to go alongside his four titles at the Storm (albeit two stripped for cap breaches), a fine reward for a player who began as a humble utility and finished a tactical commissar.

But for all his self-made success, what about his modern day equivalent in Cleary?

Much like Cronk, Cleary was not gifted with God-given sorcery but made up for the shortfall by dedicating to his craft with the discipline of a German gymnast.

And even nowadays with defences more stout than ever, Cleary has become one of the rare million dollar playmakers in the NRL who can consider himself criminally underpaid.

In a shortage with desperate clubs splooging top dollar on anything with a pulse, Cleary represents value for money when a ‘halfback’ can cop squillions even if they’re just an untested prodigy or a rebranded centre who passed the ball twice in under 12s.

But don’t let this landscape detract from the two-time Clive Churchill Medalist.

Cleary is the quintessential playmaker’s playmaker, a man born to be first receiver whose first act upon leaving the crib was to dribble one in behind for a repeat set.

Better yet, he is eloquent, humble and universally pursued by premium brands like Adidas and rugby union.

And if you think Johns and Thurston had it tough dealing with size issues, spare a thought for Cleary who still managed to secure four straight comps with his dad helicopter-parenting the entire time.

Yep, despite his career still yet to conclude, Cleary is at home alongside the best of the best.

But of the four doyens, who stands above, who really is the greatest of the past 25 years?

Anointing only one is a task so inherently dangerous it could land you on a watch list or even get you extradited to Penrith court.

However, with his nine grand finals and multiple premierships across two clubs - one in a fishbowl and the other a pro-AFL nation state - Cronk is not just the choice of hipsters and supercoach poindexters, he stands alone as the greatest by sheer weight of numbers.

Plus shunning Smith from his nuptials has to count for something.

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Originally published as Real reason Andrew Johns isn’t the greatest of them all