Short kicks to advantage. Chest marks when necessary. Toe-pokes that win premierships. Keeping his private life private. Giving stick to sacred cows such as Robert Harvey. Dressing up as Kevin Bartlett or Dermott Brereton on 'Mad Mondays'. Confounding reporters by speaking only when the team loses (or wins the flag) … and always cutting off goals.
In the theatre of football, he plays the antagonist role.
No wonder Cats fans (and footy fans) love him.
The truth is, it's nearly impossible to see how good Scarlett is on television. Last Saturday night, commentator Luke Darcy articulated why Scarlett is one of the game's greats.
Darcy said Scarlett forces the opposition to kick to spaces it would prefer to avoid. That makes him his coach's dream - and the opposition coach's nightmare.
Teams can plan to counter him and he can still outsmart them.
Up close, you can see him spread or push up or drop back or close space or direct a teammate to cover space or the dangerous player or improve his starting position.
This week, he is due to play his 250th game. During it he might play on Lance 'Buddy' Franklin. That would be a title fight worthy of the highest billing.
Scarlett doesn't like losing much. That's obvious from outside the fence. However, the fact he makes himself available to speak to the media after a loss suggests a dark sense of humour lurking underneath.
When he talks, he delivers the message straight. In defeat, there is no need for spin or forced humility.
When he speaks after a premiership - the other time we hear from him - it is clear how much he loves those he plays alongside.
After the Cats' 2007 Grand Final win, we received a glimpse of the competitive streak within. "We just really wanted to bury them. We spoke about not going to take the foot off the pedal. Anytime we started thinking we were going to win, we just cut it out with the talk out there. We just wanted to play to the final siren and I think it showed how ruthless we are," he said.
Scarlett was perched in the corner, surrounded by reporters, delivering his words with conviction and class, just like he delivers the footy.
Many Scarlett moments stand out, but the one I remember best happened at Skilled Stadium in round seven of 2007. This was before the Cats were the greatest team of all, sitting sixth with three wins and three losses, and taking on the undefeated defending premiers, the Eagles. The previous season, the visitors had overcome a 36-point three-quarter time deficit to win and deflate the Cats.
This time, the Eagles had dragged a 39-point three-quarter-time deficit back to 21 points with time to spare. Shivers were racing up and down Cats fans' spines.
Enter Scarlett with an attacking 'time to believe' run down the Reg Hickey side of the ground into space to set up a Cameron Mooney goal, a steadier.
From that moment, the Cats looked like premiers.
Scarlett had read the game, as he always does, and kept attacking when doubts were descending on others, as they promised to do. He stamped himself on the moment; it was an encore to his goal-saving tackle on the three-quarter-time siren. It was his 168th game.
After it, coach Mark Thompson said of his full-back: "(That was) as mean as I have ever seen him play."
In his first 100 games, the team lost 50. In the next 100, it has lost only 31. In his past 49, he has been on the losing side only eight times. He has been there in good times and in hard.
Since that 2007 run down the outer wing, there have been two flags and the despair of a Grand Final loss … and 81 more games showing that brilliant meanness we have come to love.
