Tarryn Aiken has been recognised as one of the best NRLW players in the world. She’s been a Queensland representative, a Jillaroo, and a Golden Boot winner. But to her number 1 fan, Lyn, she’s just her daughter – and that’s something that’s never changed.
From local footy fields to international stadiums – including Old Trafford in England, where Tarryn played for Australia in a World Cup Grand Final – Lyn has been there in some form. Driving her to training, watching from the sidelines, or following along from home when she couldn’t be there in person.
Their story doesn’t begin there, though. It starts much earlier – when footy was just something Tarryn loved to do. Before Brisbane Broncos contracts and the idea that footy could become a career. Back to a time when she wasn’t allowed to play at all.
Always around the game
Tarryn was the kind of kid who didn’t sit still for long. She was always moving and always finding something to throw herself into. “She was a very busy child… always wanting to do things,” Lyn says. It didn’t really matter what it was – Tarryn approached everything the same way. “Even as a little child, she used to be very competitive.”
And footy was always close – part of the environment she grew up in on the Central Coast. “Her father used to play, so she would go to the football [with him] as a little girl,” Lyn says. Weeknights meant training, and weekends meant games. “She’s always been around [football] her whole life.”
Those early years weren’t about where football could lead. They were simply about being there – on the sidelines, at training, in and around the game in any way possible. “I just remember as a kid being somewhere to do with footy,” Tarryn admits.
The tantrum that changed everything
Looking back, there weren’t any online registrations or quick sign-ups if you wanted to play rugby league – you physically had to stand in line at the local club.
Lyn was there to register Tarryn’s brother. That was the plan – but Tarryn had other ideas. “She wanted to play. And I said, ‘No, you’re not playing,’” Lyn remembers. What she didn’t realise was that Tarryn had already gone around her. “She’d had a conversation with her father… and he had said to her that she could play.”
Whether he meant it or not didn’t matter – Tarryn had decided. “She’d thrown herself on the ground and had a bit of a tantrum,” Lyn says.
A quick phone call later, Lyn went straight to the source. “I rang her Dad and I said, ‘Did you say she could play?’” His response: “Oh, just let her play. She’ll play one game, she’ll get roughed up and that’ll be the end of it.”
It wasn’t.
On the sidelines, watching Tarryn’s first game, suddenly it clicked. “She just carved it up… went through the boys and scored a try.”
The rule that stopped the game
When Tarryn turned 12, she stopped playing rugby league – not by choice, but because she had to. The rules were clear: girls couldn’t continue playing beyond that age.
“I think I always knew once I hit 12 that I wouldn’t be able to play anymore,” Tarryn says. Still, it didn’t make it easier to see her old team playing without her. “I do remember being really upset about it.”
For Lyn, the memory is just as strong. “She was devastated. She was so upset… it was her whole life before she was 12.” Losing rugby league meant losing everything around it – the routine, the team, the identity.
Finding her way back
Although Tarryn had lost the game she loved, she never lost her desire to play.
Touch football became her outlet, and in many ways its own pathway – with its own level of competition and opportunity. “She did exceptionally well,” Lyn says. “She ended up playing for Australia in the Under 17s... and the Australian Women’s Opens team.”
Tarryn played constantly – through school, on weekends and during the week. “I definitely played [touch football] a lot more once I couldn’t play league anymore,” she confirms. “I just loved touch.”
Years later, the landscape began to shift. Women’s rugby league started to take shape and for the first time, there was a visible path back.
“I’d seen the Burleigh Bears had a team for a few years… but I never properly went and played,” Tarryn says. Then Tweed Seagulls Rugby League Club announced a women’s team. “I was like, ‘You know what… I’ll do that.’”
It made sense. “It was my local club… five minutes around the corner [from home]… and a few of the girls I’d grown up with came and played as well.”
After everything, Tarryn was finally back in the game.
The best thing ever
From there, things moved quickly – and suddenly, a Brisbane Broncos contract was in sight. “Well, she was very vague with me… saying ‘Oh, I might be getting signed,’” Lyn says. “And then she was getting signed.”
And just like that, it was real. Tarryn signed with the Brisbane Broncos – one of the first NRLW teams – pioneering something that didn’t fully exist yet.
The night before her debut, Lyn’s nerves took over. “I rang [Tarryn] and said, ‘I don’t think this is a very good idea.’” Tarryn’s response: “I’m in Sydney, Mum. It’s too late now.”
Looking back, Tarryn understands the scale. But at the time, it felt simple. “There was no way I realised how big of a thing it was… I was just stoked to be playing footy again… it was the best thing ever.”
From ‘just playing’ to the world stage
What started as just getting back on the field didn’t stay that way for long. The game opened up – and Tarryn moved with it. From local footy to representative honours, to the Jillaroos and the World Cup.
Lyn still remembers the moment. “She was very casual… just came home and said, ‘Oh yeah, I made the Jillaroos.’ And I was like, ‘What?! You made the Jillaroos?’”
For Lyn, these are the moments you stop for. The ones that show how far things have come. “It just opened up a whole new world… it was amazing,” she says.
When Tarryn reflects on watching the livestream announcement, she agrees, “That’s when it really hit that I’d made it and I was going to the World Cup.”
“[It’s] something I’ll always remember,” she says.
No longer a Bronco, but a Rooster
The next transition didn’t come without hesitation – at least not from Lyn. When the opportunity came for Tarryn to move from the Brisbane Broncos to the Sydney Roosters, it wasn’t an immediate yes from Lyn. “Well, I was a little bit upset at first.”
Tarryn knew where the real decision sat. “If they’re flying me down, they need to fly my Mum down… they need to convince her more than me.”
By the end of the trip, they won her over. “If she’s happy, I’m happy,” Lyn says. “It’s probably another good decision she’s made.”
Best in the world
When Tarryn won the International Rugby League Golden Boot – awarded to the best rugby league players in the world – it marked the peak of everything that had come before.
Even then, the moment arrived in a way that felt very Tarryn. “I got a phone call that I’d won it… then had to fly to Sydney for the presentation,” she says plainly.
For Lyn, it landed differently. “I was a bit excited… that’s something to be very, very proud of.”
Because this wasn’t just another milestone – it was the full circle. From being told she couldn’t play at 12 to being recognised as the best player in the world.
Why Lyn is Tarryn’s number 1 fan
For Lyn, the moments that stand out most aren’t always the biggest. “I think one of my proudest moments is when [Tarryn] played for Queensland,” she says. Of course, there are others – the World Cup and the 2024 Grand Final. “That’s when she’s been the happiest playing.”
Tarryn sees it similarly. “The 2024 Grand Final… and the World Cup as well… they’re all special.”
Lyn has seen the other side too. “That would’ve been when she did her ACL… she was devastated… that’s the lowest I’ve ever seen her.”
Still, she's been by Tarryn’s side for the wins and everything in between – the setbacks, the uncertainty, and the way Tarryn keeps showing up anyway. “I think I’m her number 1 fan… because I’m her Mum.”
Tarryn agrees. “[Mum’s] been there through everything… seen all the highs and lows… driven me to training… taken me to footy.” That’s what makes her Tarryn’s number 1 fan. Not because of how the game has evolved – but because she was there when it almost didn’t happen at all.
