The Munster scrum-half says his brief appearance against New Zealand “has been eating at me” — but insists brutal honesty is driving him towards his goal of being Ireland’s first-choice No.9 and a world-class player.
Craig Casey is open and honest about the work he has to do to reach the top of his game. (Image: ©INPHO/Morgan Treacy)
Craig Casey can’t let it go. Chicago, the briefest of cameos, the smallest of errors — and yet it has eaten away at him for days.
“I’ve watched it 25 times,” he admits. “I still don’t know what I was thinking at the time.”
He’s talking about Cam Roigard’s try, the score which turned a defeat into a nightmare for Ireland in Soldier Field.
A flicker of misjudgment, a lapse of concentration, the kind of thing that happens to every player. But Casey isn’t every player. His standards are suffocatingly high, his self-appraisal unforgiving.
“It’s completely on me,” he says. “You have to take it on the chin and be better. It’s never nice when a scrum-half scores against you either.”
That line — be better — is the essence of Casey. It’s why he’ll spend hours reliving a mistake others would bury. Why he’ll walk into a team meeting and tell his teammates, unprompted, exactly where he went wrong.
“It’s been eating at me,” he says. “But you probably can’t recover from it if you’re not honest with yourself — or with each other.”
There’s no self-pity in his voice, no sulking, no deflection. Just an acknowledgment that standards were missed. And that, for Casey, is where growth begins.
Honesty, for him, isn’t some vague moral trait — it’s a tool. It’s how he dissects performances, good and bad. It’s why he has little patience for excuses, even when they’re available.
“I don’t think we can use that as an excuse,” he says. “We just didn’t show up. We were fresh, we just weren’t good enough on the day. That’s it.”
He shrugs, matter-of-fact. It’s the same tone you hear when he talks about where he is in his career.
“I’m definitely not where I want to be as a player,” he says. “I’ve grown a lot over the last few years, but there’s a long way to go. My goal is to be the number one scrum-half for Ireland and to be consistently world class. That’s the level I’m chasing.”
If that sounds ambitious, that’s because it is. Casey doesn’t pretend otherwise.
The Rematch, Solider Field, Chicago – Ireland’s red carded Tadhg Beirne and Beauden Barrett of New Zealand shake hands after the game(Image: ©INPHO/Dan Sheridan)
He says: “I don’t want to be Ireland’s second choice. I didn’t want to be third choice the last few years either. It’s about taking the chance when I get it and having no excuses when I don’t play well.”
There’s a flicker of pride when he mentions how far he’s come — the calmness that has crept into his game, the way the field now seems to slow down around him. He’s 26 now, no longer the promising new guy. With 21 caps to his name, he knows it is time he became the delivery man. Japan on Saturday offers him the opportunity.
“The scan and the calmness — that’s probably what’s improved most over the last 18 months,” he says. “When things start to click in your mind, when you begin to see things you never saw before — that’s when you know you’re growing.
“It probably started to click for me at the end of the 2024 season in South Africa, when I got the chance to be the starting nine. From there, it’s kicked on. But there’s still a lot to add — layers to build.”
Leadership has helped too. Over the summer, Casey captained Ireland against Georgia and Portugal, and later Munster under new head coach Clayton McMillan.
“I loved it,” he says. “To get back into an Irish jersey after injury, and to lead — that was special. Clayton gave me the chance to be captain with Munster and I really loved it.
Ireland vs New Zealand All Blacks – Ireland’s Tadhg Beirne dejected after the game(Image: ©INPHO/Dan Sheridan)
“He’s hard-edged, straight to the point, and he sets the week up unbelievably well. He’s brought great ideas from New Zealand, and I’ve just tried to be a sponge around that.”
It’s been a journey, yes, but one he refuses to frame as a struggle.
“I’ve loved every single step,” Casey says. “Injuries have been part of it, missing the Six Nations was tough, but I’ve learned from it. Hopefully, it can go on for another ten or so years.”
And yet, beneath that sunny determination lies an edge — that competitive snarl you can’t fake. Because Craig Casey isn’t satisfied. He’s restless, wired to improve, allergic to complacency.
“Comfortable?” he says, repeating the word as if it’s foreign. “I don’t think you’re ever too comfortable. I certainly haven’t got to where I want to be.”
So he’ll keep reviewing, keep reflecting, keep demanding more. The cameos that frustrate him today may one day be the fuel for something far greater.
Because for Craig Casey, the only acceptable direction is forward. And the only person he refuses to make excuses for — is himself.