And, for the first time since 1984, his last name won't be Fitzgibbon.

Three years ago, coal and climate politics, controversial policies and Bill Shorten's unpopularity conspired to cut Labor's margin in Hunter from 12 to 3 per cent.

Long-time member Joel Fitzgibbon, having fought a very public campaign to change the party's direction on mining, has since retired, leaving two political novices to fight for the spoils.

The major-party candidates trying to claim the vacant seat are cut from very different cloth.

One presents himself as a political outsider who will bring some real-world experience to Canberra. The other sees politics as "vocational" and an "aspirational profession".

One left school at 15 and has been in trouble for "larrikin" Facebook posts. The other has a law degree and goes to church.

The hulking 202-centimetre Dan Repacholi left school in year 10 to learn a trade, is a five-time Olympic pistol shooter, has been a truck driver, trainer and dispatch officer at Mount Thorley mine, and was hand-picked by Anthony Albanese last year to contest Hunter despite being a party member for only a month.

Repacholi lives at Nulkaba, outside Cessnock, with wife Alex and has two young daughters. He was managing a machinery sales business last year but resigned to focus on the campaign.

He is a lapsed Catholic (read atheist), voted yes in the same-sex marriage plebiscite, sits on the fence when it comes to the monarchy/republic debate and likes cooking meat. Lots of it.

James Thomson has a combined law and business degree, became interested in politics while studying at Newcastle University and works as a community relations officer at Maitland Christian School.

He lives at Cameron Park with wife Claire, also has two young children and is a keen water-skier. He attends the Goodlife Church at Toronto (he voted no on same-sex marriage) and was preselected a year ago by Nationals branch members.

Labor insiders say they feel confident the party will retain Hunter, a seat it has never lost, but the Nationals hope Thomson will grow their primary vote and gather a large enough stash of minor-party preferences to cause an upset.

Both men have been keen to talk up their support for coalmining, though both also back their parties' commitments to reach net zero emissions by 2050.

In Repacholi's case, he also supports Labor's interim target of cutting emissions by 43 per cent by 2030.

The Newcastle Herald grilled both men in the lead-up to Saturday's vote to find out what makes them tick.

The 40-year-old Repacholi (he brought up the milestone last weekend) was born in Carlton and grew up in Melton South, a satellite town 45 minutes' drive west of the Melbourne CBD.

His mother was a nurse at Bacchus Marsh Hospital and his father a quarantine officer. He has two brothers, one older and one younger, and an older sister.

He left Wilson Park Secondary College at 15 to become a fitter and turner then bought a house in Romsey, north of Melbourne.

He met his Kiwi wife, Alex, on a night out in Cessnock while competing in a national shooting championship and moved to the Hunter in 2009. The couple rented in Pokolbin then bought a house at Nulkaba.

READ MORE: Mines, wine and a political faultline

READ MORE: Meet the Hunter's federal election candidates

Repacholi does not believe his lack of formal education will be a hindrance if he makes it into Parliament.

"I think I'm at an advantage because I come in as a blue-collar worker. I come in with a completely different view," he said.

"How many more lawyers, PR specialists, PR spin doctors do we need in Canberra? We need some real workers who understand what it's like being on the ground floor.

"If I'm lucky enough to win, I get to talk from a completely different perspective of someone who has actually been on a floor and worked his way up to running an engineering shop."

Repacholi met Fitzgibbon soon after moving to the region and would see the MP at functions and in the street from time to time.

He became a CFMEU delegate at Mount Thorley, and finally Fitzgibbon sounded him out last year about entering politics.

It proved to be a baptism of fire as many Labor branch members were irate about being denied a rank-and-file preselection vote.

The media then started reporting about Repacholi's past social media activity, which included sexually suggestive remarks, links to websites displaying naked women and a comment describing India as a "shit hole".

He apologised and received strong backing from Albanese, who described him as a "larrikin".

For Repacholi, this was his first exposure to a "different side of the media".

He was being treated not as a sporting hero but as a potential target.

"I'd only ever had good publicity. It took me a little bit to get my head around at the start ... that sometimes I will have scrutiny on myself.

"Looking back I was disappointed at some of the things I'd made in the past. I look back and think, 'How stupid were they.' There's no doubt about that.

"But everyone grows up. Everyone changes over the period of time. But at the end of the day that was there. I can't deny it at all.

"You've got to put your hand up and say I'm sorry about that and this is the person I am, as I've shown through the whole thing."

Repacholi said he derived his sense of right and wrong from his parents, the "very hard but fair" colleagues in the workshop where he learned his trade and his extensive overseas travels.

"I've been coached since I was 12 years old in the sport that I do. That instils a lot of morals in you, and travelling the world, seeing how people live differently. It is certainly eye-opening, because I've seen the best of the best and the worst of the worst."

On the same-sex marriage survey, he said he would have voted yes if he had been in Parliament in 2017.

"It's people's choice. I wear rainbow socks when I shoot. I'm very supportive."

On remaining a monarchy or moving to a republic?

"They both have their good points. I'd wait until it came up again and make my decision then. I'm on the fence."

Repacholi, Thomson and One Nation's Dale McNamara clashed over climate action in a live TV debate on Sky two weeks ago, a far cry from the muted and ultra-safe campaigns of past political novices in the Hunter.

"I wouldn't say it was challenging, because I've done live TV before," Repacholi said.

"I was prepared for it and, at the end of the day, we got no national headlines out of it from the three of us, so we did all right.

"I'm my own person. I'm not afraid of questions. I'm not scared to talk about topics. I'm just the person I am. I'm an outgoing, fun, enjoyable person. I do enjoy life. There's no doubt about that."

Part of that fun involves following his beloved Western Bulldogs in the AFL, camping with the family at Seal Rocks, making metal sculptures and cooking.

Repacholi has been chronicling his "food tour" of the Hunter on Facebook during the campaign, including regular visits to burger joints or searching out the best banh mi sandwiches.

"I really love barbecuing. I'm a big fan of chicken wings. Quite often we do a suckling pig on a spit, and lamb."

As for the strains on family life if he goes to Canberra, Repacholi says Alex, "the best wife in the world", and his children are used to him being away for much of the year training and competing.

Thomson was born in Wee Waa and grew up in neighbouring Narrabri.

The 29-year-old's parents run a farm contracting business. His father harvests wheat and his mother works in insurance and in the family firm. His brother lives in Muswellbrook and works in the mines.

Thomson went to Narrabri High School then moved to the Hunter to study at Newcastle University, where he was "not really" involved in student politics but "went along to a few things".

He worked on community engagement for Supercars in the first year of the Newcastle 500 in 2017.

He has been at Maitland Christian School since 2018 while maintaining an interest in politics, which he describes as an "aspirational profession where you can make a difference".

"Growing up in a regional area you see how politics affects things," he said. "Particularly you've got to fight for services that people in the cities take for granted.

"Mum and Dad were never political. We weren't a family that ever talked about it at the dinner table.

"I'd always seen politics as an avenue where you can make a difference, a very vocational thing. I think it's sad that especially the younger generation have lost that respect for politicians."

He believes Parliament is lacking "representatives who take their community's views down to Canberra".

"I think that's led to a level of cynicism out there. I think social media's added to it.

"Former deputy prime minister John Anderson said, 'You can't get good public policy from a bad public debate,' and I think there's a lot of shouting, a lot of emotional statements that get thrown around, but not the ability to sit down and have a discussion and have a beer at the end of it, or a coffee, and agree to disagree.

"People say things online they would never say to people in person."

Thomson might sound like a shrinking violet, but he was surprisingly forceful during the TV debate.

He lists domestic violence and homelessness among the issues he would like to tackle if elected.

"The issues like diversifying the economy come into it, but in terms of caring for people and really wanting to help people, I think politics is still the best avenue where you're creating legislation that can really drive that change.

"I've never been a political staffer. I haven't come up through the system. But I have seen how policy shapes people's lives."

Outside of work and now politics, Thomson loves water-skiing, which he learned on a small lake near Narrabri, going to the beach with his family and "good food".

He says his values come from two loving, community-minded parents who were involved in the local church.

"They always encouraged us as kids that anything was possible. That's the mentality we grew up with.

"Obviously I have a faith, which I've been up-front about, and that helped shape that giving back to the community, that public service."

Thomson describes the Goodlife Church as "mainstream Christianity".

Asked whether his public faith was a help or hindrance politically, he said: "That's a good question. I think you've just got to be honest about who you are ... I think that's where faith has been a benefit to me. When you love your neighbour as yourself, you treat all people equal."

On same-sex marriage, he said: "A decision's been made on that, and I think we all move on as a country.

"I, like many millions of people of faith, voted in the plebiscite and others voted as well and we came to a conclusion.

"I supported, as a person of faith, a traditional faith-based definition of marriage, but as an MP I would have listened to my electorate.

"One of my frustrations on topics where you have a lot of sensitivities around it is we often look at how we're dividing people rather than bringing people together.

"I'd like to see in future, when it comes to issues of conscience, trying to bring people together. Less hatred from both sides."

Thomson sees "pros and cons" in the republic debate.

"I like the idea of honouring the past. People have fought and died for the flag. My one concern about a republic would be I think we need less politicians and bureaucrats, not more."

If elected, he would be the youngest member of of the House of Representatives, which he sees as a strength.

"I see somebody young as bringing a fresh approach for the region after 100 years of Labor and somebody with young kids who wants that better future.

"I see my age as feeding into a passion to see those things happen."

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