Brett Thorson is one of the best punters in the 2026 NFL Draft class, and he and seven other specialists are in Indianapolis this week for the NFL Scouting Combine. But he never set out to be an American football player.
Growing up in Australia, the plan was simple and familiar: play Australian rules football, climb the developmental ladder and get drafted into the AFL at age 18. That was the sport he grew up with and pursued at what he calls the “college equivalent level” back home.
But Australian rules football is unforgiving in its timeline. “If you’re not drafted at 18, it’s ‘go to university and start studying to get a job,'” Thorson told me in late January at the Senior Bowl. “It’s not ‘go to university and still play sport.'”
When that door closed, Thorson found himself in limbo. He was studying, playing recreationally and, as he admitted, “wasn’t really enjoying football anymore … and wasn’t quite 100% sure that was what I wanted to do.”
That uncertainty led him on an unexpected detour — one that would eventually take him more than 8,000 miles from home and into the heart of SEC football.
“It didn’t pan out,” Thorson said of Australian rules football. “So [American football] was kind of what I stumbled into — this supposedly was a backup option.”
That “backup option” was punting.
Australia’s pipeline to American football is now well-worn, and Thorson found his entry point through Pro Kick Australia, an academy that has quietly reshaped the college specialist landscape. “They’ve done about 250 Division I scholarships for punters over the last 15 years,” he said. “We stumbled across them in an article, and I was still trying to work out my future.”
What sold him wasn’t just football — it was balance. “You can still go get your degree but also play an elite level sport,” he said. “And I was like that’s perfect.” For someone coming from a system where sport and academics largely diverge after high school, the American model felt like opportunity rather than compromise.
The transition, though, was anything but seamless. While punting mechanics can overlap with Australian rules football, almost everything else was foreign. “All our first games are when we get over here [to the United States],” Thorson said. “None of us play, none of us watch the game, none of us practice.”
Pads and helmets were alien. Even the equipment back home was improvised. “We had some bootleg stuff over in Australia,” he laughed. “Just picking stuff off eBay and Facebook Marketplace … pads that were about 20 years old, cost 20 bucks.”
Still, Australia offers subtle advantages. Many punters arrive older and more physically mature. “That obviously helps a bit,” said Thorson, who is 26 years old and measured in at 6-foot-1 and 240 pounds at the Senior Bowl. “You don’t have to go through that adjustment of your body still growing.” There’s also a mental edge. Moving across the world is daunting at any age, but “it’s a lot easier … when you’re 22, 23 as opposed to being 18 and just getting dumped 8,000 miles from home.”
Yet Thorson is quick to push back on the idea that Australians simply kick farther. “Some of the biggest legs I’ve ever seen have been from Americans,” he said. The real difference lies in repetition. “As for us [Aussies], we’re punting from five years old to each other. Just having that muscle memory and maybe that little bit less of variance.”
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At Georgia, Thorson learned that punting isn’t about power — it’s about precision, restraint and emotional control. “You gotta be more like a golfer,” he said. “Stay pretty neutral, don’t ride the ups, the downs.” That mindset was an adjustment for someone raised in a physical, free-flowing sport.
“It is weird like having to turn off that physicality.”
Under Kirby Smart, the art of situational punting became paramount. “Punt inside the 10,” Thorson said. “That was something that he had a huge emphasis on.” With elite gunners racing downfield, the margin for error shrinks. From the opponent’s 45-yard line, every decision matters: trajectory, hang time, angle and trust.
“The shorter [the punt], the more hang you can put on it,” Thorson explained. “You’re trying to give your gunner more time.” In college, protections sometimes allow for patience. “If there’s not a rush, you can maybe hold it and add half a second on the front end.” That split-second changes everything — whether the ball dies inside the 10 or trickles into the end zone.
It’s a delicate balance between physics and feel, especially as the field shrinks and you’re trying to pin the opponent deep in their own end. Kick it higher with more revolutions, and you give your coverage unit more time to get downfield – but you risk shorter net yards. Drive it lower, and “the chances that it rolls forward are much higher.” The modern punter isn’t chasing the old “coffin corner” myth as much as manipulating angles, spin and timing.
For Thorson, punting is no longer a fallback, it’s a craft — a study in discipline, patience and subtlety. What began as a detour from a dream that didn’t materialize has become a career built on control rather than collision.
And if Australian rules football still calls one day? He’s at peace with that, too. “I’m gonna have to go join one of the local American ones,” he joked.
For now, though, the journey from Melbourne to Athens to whatever his NFL future holds has already proven that sometimes the backup plan leads exactly where you’re supposed to be.
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