The Bunnies' new No.7 has rewarded the club's faith in him, writes Andrew Webster.

Why should we sign you?" Shane Richardson had every right to ask Chris Sandow that question earlier this year. The teenage playmaker sitting across the table from him had plenty of admirers but he came with a reputation: laziness; no discipline; a penchant for lying to cover up his mistakes.

He'd told the Gold Coast Titans he was attending grandmother's funeral - about the fourth, by their count - when he was supposed to be at training. When they spotted him on the hill during the television broadcast of a Queensland Cup match, they terminated his contract. No more chances. Now here he was, overweight, his family in another state, asking for another one at a different club.

"Why should we sign you?"

Sandow, who until this point had fixed his eyes on the ground, lifted his head and his gaze met Richardson's.

"Because I can play."

Sandow's ability has never been in question. Nor has his self-belief. According to anyone who has been involved with him, it's as though he slid out of the womb and into first receiver, talking up his game.

It took just minutes for Big Richo to slide the contract under his nose during his meeting. Since Sandow's NRL debut in round 13 against the Warriors, the Rabbitohs are unbeaten in the four matches they've played. Sandow has been front and centre in all of them.

That Sandow, his management and the Bunnies have been trying to downplay his influence indicates how much they want it to continue.

"He's very cocky," says Craig Wing, the prized signing - no less - who's been nudged out of position to accommodate this precocious 19-year-old.

The description comes up regularly. But a footballer's journey - especially that of a halfback - extends only so far on raw skill and ego. It means nothing without commitment, and this is the perennial what-if that continues to hang over Sandow. While at the Titans, he had a tendency to disappear to the mission town of Cherbourg, where he has a seven-month-old son, a partner and a mother who is instrumental in directing the mission's youth away from the demons of alcohol and petrol sniffing. He wouldn't return for days, usually with a half-baked excuse. Didn't affect his confidence, though: he'd sledge Scott Prince at training.

It's little wonder there's private cynicism from many on the Coast about Sandow's potential longevity despite this recent starburst.

"I know someone involved at the Gold Coast, and their information was that the people at the Gold Coast were reading him the wrong way," Souths coach Jason Taylor says. "They misread his cockiness. That he was a smart-arse who didn't want to train. What I was told is that he has plenty of spunk about him."

Spunk? The first time Taylor met him, Sandow challenged the most prolific goalscorer in history to a kicking contest. At a training session not long after, the rookie playmaker was practising his attempts from the sideline and spotted the coach.

"C'mon," Sandow prodded. "Show us your game."

Taylor walked up, placed the ball on the tee. Then nailed it.

"I'd be disappointed if your article suggests he's arrogant," Taylor says. "Because that's not what he's about. Everything I've told him to work on, he's been accepting of it and gone away and worked on it. Other guys I've worked with think they've got it all. That's not Chris for a second."

Sandow's short rise is immersed in irony. Ironic that the dislocated shoulder Wing suffered in the seventh minute of the season forced Taylor to take a chance on Sandow after a string of defeats and too many halfbacks chewed up and spat out to mention. Ironic that some ill-considered observers quietly reckoned the reason behind Souths' darkest hours this season was the lack of white players in the team. How absurd. And how ironic a teenager dubbed "The Black Alfie" turned Souths' fortunes on their ear.

It remains unclear where the comparison to the Queensland great comes from but Taylor, among many others, thinks it's an onerous tag in the embryonic stages of a career. "But just as [Allan] Langer grew up honing his skills chip-kicking in the backyard in Ipswich, that's how Chris honed his," Richardson says. "He's got those inherent skills. That's where that inherent confidence comes from."

That sense of adventure has been evident to all, even when it doesn't come off. Against the Cowboys with the game on the line, Sandow produced a Langer-style grubber close to the line. No result. Against the Bulldogs last Monday night, he tried the same as the game ticked closer towards golden point. No result.

"On both of those occasions, I didn't agree with the play he took," Taylor says. "But I still haven't told him that. I want him to keep playing what he sees."

The coach says Sandow and Wing are "our halves combination for the next few years" but the prized recruit has been measured in his praise of his new partner. "He's got a long way to go," Wing says, even though he is prepared to play at second receiver.

Why? "Good players can smell others players who can play," Richardson offers.

Maybe Taylor is right and the Titans misread the player. Maybe a harsh look at football oblivion and his child at home in Cherbourg convinced him to make a fist of his second coming at South Sydney. Sandow is living in board accommodation in Sydney but travels home to Cherbourg when he can. "He has not put a foot wrong since he's been here," Taylor says.

Tonight against Parramatta at ANZ Stadium, Sandow will try to continue his perfect start to his imperfect career, and Langer may be watching. "I only learnt of his nickname through the call on television," Langer says. "Obviously, it's because his size stature … and his good looks, of course."

Sounds like something Sandow might say.