Henson was an outlier, a man who split the opinions of team-mates, coaches and supporters. He was his own man who would strike his own hits.
Which brings us back to the kick. There is less than five minutes left on the clock, England lead 9-8 when a penalty is awarded to Wales. Stephen Jones had taken the previous kicks that day, but he stepped away.
“When you have someone with an amazing talent who can kick a ball a long, long way, and you have a secret weapon and someone who has the ability to smash a ball 50 metres, you think, well, we’ve got to use this guy,” said Jones.
Jones understood that a kick of around that distance at an angle was beyond his and most people’s range.
“There’s not many people now in world rugby who can take on kicks of that distance comfortably,” he said.
Wales fly-half Rhys Patchell is a self-confessed kicking nerd. Even he concedes that he very rarely practised from that position on the pitch.
“It is almost Hollywoodesque in terms of the script is written and you just step up and you do it. I think it’s the sort of effortlessness,” Patchell told the podcast.
Effortlessness is an appropriate term to describe Henson’s playing career. He seemed blessed with abilities that others simply did not possess. He could do what others could not and he did it with ease.
It is this unique sporting ability that was the ultimate driver in my effort to speak to him. It is fair to say that the journey has been challenging. Henson remains as unpredictable as ever, occasionally resurfacing before returning to the shadows.
It is that elusiveness that fascinates me and so many others.
Golden Boy: Finding Gavin Henson is available now on BBC Sounds
