As a rugby player, David Campese seemed to operate on pure instinct, one that left many a defender clutching for him in vain, stranded in the slipstream of his audacity. He followed no straight path, observed no convention, and in so doing brought a whole swag of new supporters to the game. Hailed as the ‘Bradman of Rugby’ by former Wallaby coach Alan Jones, and the ‘Pele’ of Rugby by others, Campese was a match-winner. True, he could lose the odd game as well, but this was part of his unique allure: Campese took crowds to the edge of their seats … and their patience.

The refrain ‘I saw Campese play’ now speaks to much more than wistful reminiscences about a player widely regarded as the most entertaining ever to play the game of Rugby Union. It has come to represent a state of chronic disbelief that the Wallaby ascendancy of Campese’s era - the style, panache, and winning ways of the Australian team in the 1980s and 1990s - has now been squandered by Rugby’s continuing struggle to adapting to the coming of professionalism.

Campese occupies a unique intersection in the sport’s history: one of its last amateurs, and one of its first professionals. The rigid, robotic game of today appears incapable of accommodating a player of his dash and daring, or of replicating his teams’ successes.