Why England’s kids are wearing Broncos jerseys

It’s 8pm on Wednesday 22 October and I’m onboard my flight from Berlin to London. I’ve already taken my seat when a group of English teenage school students board. One of the boys looks at me, spots my Brisbane Broncos cap, and remarks in a posh Hugh Grant-style London accent, “Oh, the Broncos, Reece Walsh is a gun.”

Three days later I’m at Wembley for the rugby league Test between England and Australia. While I wait for my ex-pat mates to arrive, I decide to head to the fan zone section outside the stadium. I spot three kids, roughly eight years old, sitting together at a table, all wearing Broncos jerseys.

I remark, “Hope you boys enjoyed the long flight over,” presuming they, like me, have travelled from Brisbane. They look at me as if I’ve spoken a foreign language when one of the boys’ mothers chimes in, “No, we got the train, not the plane, down from Manchester.” The boys are Wigan fans — they support England — but the Broncos jerseys are because they love Reece Walsh.

At the end of the game, fans line up for Reece Walsh selfies. English fans, that is, as this video demonstrates: https://x.com/centralNRL/status/1982212976938819983

2025 will be remembered as the year Reece Walsh went from a talented young-gun rugby league player to an Australian sporting celebrity. It’s hardly unprecedented — all sports and countries have players who transcend their natural fanbase.

But how and why does this happen with certain professional athletes?

It’s not solely down to talent. Ask any Manchester United fan and they’ll tell you that Paul Scholes had more talent in his right thumb than David Beckham had in his entire body. But how many reading this have heard of the midget-sized, ginger-haired Scholes compared to the well-groomed former England captain who married a pop star?

Talent is certainly a prerequisite, as are factors such as the athlete’s personal life, their looks, and how they engage with the media and public. It’s that final point I’d like to touch on in relation to Walsh.

He willingly embraces the media attention he receives and is more than happy to generate publicity. At the time of writing, he has over 653,000 Instagram followers — more than some NRL and AFL clubs.

He shuns the clichéd lines most footballers use. When asked how the Broncos would stop Nathan Cleary before the 2025 preliminary final, rather than going for the boring line of, “Well, Nathan’s a great player and we’ll have to be at our best…”, he smoothly replied, “Well, Penrith have to come up with a plan to stop us.”

He has bravado. When sin-binned during the NRL finals series, he gave Raiders fans the finger. So much for professional athletes ignoring fan abuse. Two months ago, he jokingly drank toilet water (from an unused toilet). He allows his four-year-old daughter to paint his nails, despite playing a sport renowned for its masculinity.

In sum, Reece Walsh is authentic. He doesn’t care if you love him or hate him. What you see is what you get.

Authenticity is key for any individual or organisation wishing to achieve “cut-through” with the media. To get media traction, you need to be prepared to engage with the media, even when you’d prefer not to. To get maximum exposure, you need to have something interesting to say — not glib clichés. To raise your profile, you need to utilise social media creatively, in addition to traditional platforms.

Around the world, these techniques are being used by a string of politicians across the political spectrum. Donald Trump, Zohran Mamdani, and Nigel Farage are very different politicians, but they have one thing in common — they don’t try to be someone they’re not.

Perhaps even Donald Trump has heard of Reece Walsh and is currently walking towards his White House toilet with a water jug?

Photo credit: Brisbane Broncos website