Justin Langer: Nat Fyfe beats to a different drum and his belief in himself should be music to your ears

As retirements go, there are few more significant than Nat Fyfe. When the greatest West Australian sports stars are talked about, Nat’s name will forever be etched in our history. In the pantheon of Australian Football League legends, Nathan Fyfe stands as a colossus whose career trajectory reads like a masterclass in overcoming adversity while maintaining unparallelled excellence. The former Fremantle captain embodies the modern midfielder—a player whose physical presence commands respect while his football intelligence orchestrates the beautiful chaos that defines AFL at its finest. While I don’t know him well, Nat’s story has always intrigued me. Having been to the same school, Aquinas College, the stories of the eventual champion that started as whispers, eventually morphed into gale forced wins. Behind the Brownlow medals and spectacular football, lies a man who has always marched to the beat of his own drum. He would be a fascinating character study in how someone can challenge convention while still achieving greatness. Many of the highest achievers I know roll with a similar personality definition. They challenge, they question, they dispute, they have an unwavering belief in themselves, and frankly, they are different. Often this attitude rubs people up the wrong way and can cause dual frustrations. But to achieve greatness, you must be different. If you weren’t, everyone would be great, wouldn’t they? Thinking through the list of all the best people I played with, coached or shared boardrooms with, they are all the same. Different yes, but intensely focussed, unabashed dreamers and insatiably driven. I once asked a close friend of mine, a highly successful English entrepreneur if he ever got tired of making millions. He lowered his glasses and with a curious expression asked: “Do you ever get tired of scoring hundreds on the cricket field?” His question seemed ridiculous, just as mine must have been to him. “Millions to me are just like my scorecard, just as hundreds are yours” he smiled. In his 2019 Brownlow medal speech, Nat told the story of being a relatively poor student with an even poorer attitude. A skinny kid, who didn’t develop physically until Year 12, he was playing third-level 18s footy for Aquinas in Year 11. Brother Brian Cleary, a great friend and legendry educator at Aquinas College, has made that story a part of Aquinas folklore. What I didn’t know was that the naughty, physically undeveloped, country kid from Lake Grace, wrote Jamie Lockyer, the Aquinas Firsts 18s coach, a letter pleading to be a part of the school footy trip. Lockyer relented, and the rest is history. Fyfe’s story isn’t dissimilar to many great achievers. Uber successful friends and colleagues I know will be smiling when they read this, as a couple of them left school at 14 or 15 to pursue the tougher, meaner education of life. Leaving school early can take enormous courage, as it bucks the trend of societal norms. But courage is a trait the most successful business leaders, teachers, sportspeople have buckets of. Many of these same people exude an “anti-authoritarian streak” as Nat Fyfe’s friend Matt De Boer once described his former teammate. They are often challenging the norms, and they challenge day in day out. This isn’t rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but rather the mindset of someone who refuses to accept “that’s how we’ve always done it” as a satisfactory answer. In Fyfe’s 16-year-old letter to his school coach, he not only showed a sense of urgency for his career but also an unflappable belief in himself. Watching his 2019 Brownlow acceptance speech, Nat was asked if it was true that he said to his mate when he was a kid, “don’t worry, we will always be OK, if anything goes wrong, I will just sell one of the Brownlow medals I am going to win”. Amidst raucous laughter and a shy, reluctant response, Fyfe, shrugged and replied: “I guess I was relatively confident in the plan of the universe.” More laughter, but brilliant, and an example of another attribute of the best of the best. They believe in themselves, when others don’t. De Boer, a strong and respected leader in his own right, also describes his close friend as “anti-normal” in the way he thinks deeply about why things are done and then takes the actions he believes are needed to improve, rather than falling into line out of habit. Fyfe’s off-seasons, and his adventures read like something from an unconventional training manual. ‘Anti-normal’ perhaps, but study the great athletes, and most take their bodies and minds to places 99 per cent of humans could never understand. Whether it was gruelling sessions up and down the Western Australian coast, or retreats to his family’s property in Lake Grace, his weren’t your typical footballer fitness regimens. The overseas pre-season adventures have become the stuff of legend. While most AFL players opt for standard pre-season training camps, Fyfe has been known to seek out more exotic and challenging environments. His trips often blur the line between physical conditioning and spiritual exploration, reflecting his belief that peak performance requires more than just physical fitness. These international sojourns weren’t mere Instagram opportunities but carefully considered expeditions designed to challenge both body and mind. Whether it’s altitude training in remote mountains or endurance work in demanding climates, Fyfe approached these experiences with the same analytical mindset he brings to dissecting opposition midfields. Another former teammate, Michael Barlow, said: “He would sit there and think ‘I can be the greatest of all time,’” noting that this isn’t arrogance, but rather the mindset of someone who refuses to accept limitations. This ambition extends to how he processes failure and setbacks. Where others might see career-threatening injuries as reasons to dial back expectations, Fyfe sees them as problems to be solved through innovation and determination. Great performers all experience failures and setbacks in their professional and personal lives. That is life for everyone, regardless of their place on the ladder. Despite this they seem to find a way of consistently rising like a phoenix. The depth of Fyfe’s character is highlighted in how he has handled these adversities. The injuries that have punctuated his career could have broken a lesser person’s spirit, but they’ve only served to fuel his determination to find better ways of doing things. Each setback became a research project, each recovery an opportunity to emerge stronger and more knowledgeable. Sonny Walters, wrote in The West this week: “The way he went about anything - his recovery, his weights, his training, his craft - no matter what, he was 100 per cent all in. His mindset was second to none. All his chips were in. You could see it straight away.” He went on to write: “When Fyfe spoke, you listened. You were in awe of him. It’s like he walks around with a halo on his head, that’s how much he had everyone in awe of him.” Several years ago, I was at a Western Australian Sports Award dinner. On his way up to receive another trophy, Nat looked like a lion, strolling nonchalantly up to the stage. Dressed in a tailored suit _ fit more for a rockstar or movie star than a football player _ Fyfe radiated a presence that was undeniable. When Sonny says, everyone was “in awe of him” I get what he meant. Again, the great achievers have a presence about them. Not only do you want to watch them, on and off their chosen stage, but when they speak you do listen, hoping for a single pearl of wisdom that may change your own life. The times I have heard Nat speak, he is eloquent, polished and stirring. Within this though, there is always a sense of humility and grounding. The way he talks of his parents David and Christine, and brother Liam is moving. As is the way he is grateful for his coaches, friends and past mentors who have helped him through his journey. Fyfe’s love for the Fremantle Football Club has been unwavering. Critics might point to team success as the missing element in Fyfe’s resume, but individual brilliance, no matter how spectacular, cannot single-handedly deliver premierships. When Fyfe won his first Brownlow medal in 2015 he stated: “My contested ball is (instinctive) footy and I make no apologies for that … so, I won’t change the way I play, and, unfortunately, that’s going to cost me games down the track, but it’s my greatest strength.” Ten years on, and it would be fair to say his prediction was right. His injury plagued last few seasons suggest he is limping to the finish line of his extraordinary career. But, as he enters his final lap, his legacy is already secure. Whether he adds a premiership to his collection, remains to be seen. What is clear, is that premiership or not, the “anti-normal” Nat Fyfe will ride into the sunset with the same calm, smiling presence that he has displayed through his football career.