Last weekend, South Sydney Rabbitohs winger Alex Johnston became just the second player in history to score 200 NRL tries, after the legendary Ken Irvine.
An incredible feat in and of itself—but what makes it even more remarkable is that it has been achieved by someone who’s often left out of the spotlight—by selectors, commentators, and fans alike.
He’s not in the headlines every week. He has never worn a Blues jersey. He doesn’t dominate post-match interviews or fuel mid-week media debates.
And yet he is well on track to becoming the greatest try scorer the NRL has ever seen. Not by showboating—but by showing up.
Even after a decade in the game, he’s still somehow flying under the radar. And still, he just keeps turning up—week after week, year after year—doing his job with quiet excellence.
There’s something strikingly humble about Johnston’s greatness. It’s not loud. It doesn’t demand attention. It simply gets the job done.
He’s not chasing cameras—he’s chasing finishes. And in that, strangely enough, I’m reminded of perhaps my favourite saint: St Faustina Kowalska.
Before she became known as the Apostle of Divine Mercy, Helena Kowalska—the future St Faustina—was described by her superior at the Congregation of the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy as “no one special.”
Just a quiet, unimpressive nun in the convent. Only few knew that behind her gentle silence was a soul entrusted by Christ with one of the most powerful messages of our time: Divine Mercy.
Her diary would go on to inspire millions. Her humility wasn’t a flaw. It was the very place where God planted something extraordinary.
Through her, we received that simple, yet stunningly profound prayer: Jesus, I trust in You.
Now, I’m not saying Alex Johnston is a mystic.
But there’s a lesson here that stretches from the football field to the convent chapel. I’ve said it before of the Raiders’ quiet climb, but it hits in a different way when an individual lives it out: real greatness doesn’t always look the way the world expects.
Oftentimes, it’s found in those who aren’t chasing the spotlight but who are quietly, faithfully doing what they’ve been called to do.
This brings to mind another quiet figure in the story of the church: Jan Tyranowski.
He was an unassuming layman in Poland who, during the Nazi occupation, simply chose to teach the faith to young men when priests were being imprisoned.
It may have seemed small and ordinary at the time—but what he didn’t know is that one of those men would go on to become Pope St John Paul II. Tyranowski wasn’t seeking greatness—he was just being faithful.
I doubt Alex Johnston—when he crossed for his first NRL try—ever imagined he’d score 199 more. But by sticking through the challenges and showing up anyway, he found himself in extraordinary territory. That’s often how greatness works—in faith and footy alike.
It’s easy to celebrate the flashy players, the rep stars, the headline-makers. But maybe we should look a little closer at the quiet achievers too—the ones whose greatness lies not in noise, but in faithfulness.
Alex Johnston has never made himself the centre of attention. He just does his job. And in both sport and faith, finishing well is something truly worth admiring.