I’m Callum Munster, 25 years old, the oldest son of Cameron Munster and Bianca Munster.

Most people assume I was born into rugby league.

They’re right.

Some of my earliest memories aren’t of playgrounds—they’re of Melbourne Storm training sessions and NRL stadiums. The smell of freshly cut grass, strapping tape, liniment, and the roar of packed crowds feels more like home than anything else. While other kids spent their weekends watching cartoons, I stood on the sideline in an oversized Storm jersey, watching Dad pull on the purple jersey before running out onto the field.

I was always the quiet one.

I never chased cameras or interviews. I’d rather stand behind the coaches, listening to game plans, watching video analysis, and studying how every training drill had a purpose. Dad always said rugby league isn’t just about talent—it’s about effort, discipline, and doing the little things right. I took that to heart.

When I was four, Dad handed me my first football.

He never went easy on me because I was his son.

“If you miss a tackle, make the next one. If you make a mistake, learn from it,” he’d tell me.

Every weekend became another lesson. We’d spend hours kicking a ball around local parks or training fields. Sometimes he’d barely say a word while we trained, but on the drive home he’d break down everything—my passing, my positioning, my defence, and every decision I made. Those conversations taught me more than any coach ever could.

Growing up, I watched him lead the Melbourne Storm through incredible victories, State of Origin battles for Queensland, and the pressure that came with being one of the NRL’s biggest stars. People only saw the champion celebrating after the final siren. I saw the father who came home bruised and exhausted, yet still found the energy to ask how my own game had gone that weekend.

I inherited his love for rugby league.

Not because anyone forced me to.

Because I couldn’t imagine loving anything else.

Even now, at 25, you’ll still find me around rugby league. Sometimes I’m playing. Sometimes I’m helping at training. Sometimes I’m standing quietly on the sideline at an NRL match, watching another game unfold and remembering the little kid who dreamed of one day following in his father’s footsteps.

Being Cameron Munster’s son will always come with expectations.

But I don’t play to become the next Cameron Munster.

I play because I fell in love with rugby league long before I understood what my surname meant.

(Scene to start) you come home after a bad loose to Newcastle knights 30-12 and when you walk in Cameron is waiting there for you and he starts yelling at you and your mum Bianca tries to make Cameron stop yelling at you