The maverick Tom H has pieced together a special investigation on one of the Hatchets’ most controversial figures.
A secretive man, asking to be identified only by the name ‘Mr G’, has bombarded ‘A Current Affair’ this week with various complaints over QIF Hatchets coach Simon B. Mr. G repeatedly asked, “What exactly does Simon want, and is he really the man he barely claims to be? I just don’t trust people over six foot eight.” ACA investigates.
For those unfamiliar with the origin story, little was known about the motives of Hatchet’s ‘coach’ Simon B after he made his move from Brunswick East’s urban subculture. Rumoured to have endured an undergraduate-long period of adjustment syndrome in Brisbane, he continued on to Rockhampton, the Melbourne of the North, in an attempt to regain some semblance of counter-cultural normality. After conquering the Capricornia conference, he has now returned with his eyes fixed firmly on the QIF premiership… but are things are simple as they seem with this gentle giant?
This reporter still remembers his first impressions of the man. Described as a “tall, single, handsome doctor” by one now strangely familiar bystander, he was often purported to be seen “lumbering above the canopies of local eucalypts”, emulating his favourite fairy tale with a trail of half-drunk Oettinger beer cans. When directly questioned at a local U8’s match, he stated that “I don’t drink any more,” followed by a slow sip and muffled continuation, “but I don’t drink any less, either.”
A local Dan Murphy’s register worker claimed that Simon would often come in and demand free samples, but only on weekdays, and had been placed on the goon distribution registry on more than one occasion. “I often see the poor guy bending down to reach the top shelf spirits and shouting, ‘YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME?!’ before settling on his regular Coolabah – he’s nothing if not consistent.”
Despite concerns from trusted Drinks Captain Tom K, the beanpole manager continues to deny any problem exists. “Look – from my experience, you see this kind of thing every season. He’ll either burn out or pass out, but either way I look forward to seeing him at the RE tonight for a few schooies.”
What is in a name? For Simon J. B., the answer is an alarming amount. Whilst some are convinced he is the “offspring of Broncos super-coach Wayne”, there is an equal amount of those who scrawl on local bathrooms that his surname is nothing more than a “poor attempt at a palindrome”, or one of “French pronunciation, consistent with an attitude of surrender”. In a dramatic twist, one punter pointed out that his middle initial stood for Jamieson (verified by a Dan Murphy’s ID check), changed after birth to champion his favourite whiskey. In a very defensive statement he claimed that, “a rose by any other name, would smell just as sweet, and I certainly don’t see you going after any roses”. He then finished by adamantly saying, “Beneath this radiant southern cross, I will always plead the 5th to the likes of you scoundrels. What even happened to ACA, you guys were always my favourite?”
Much has been made about Mr B’s coaching credentials. The mysterious Mr G. stated that he would begin every training session by claiming, “It is your altitude, and not your attitude, that determines your aptitude.” Bemused by his ‘wordsmithery’, many “subordinates” as Mr. B calls them, were all too eager to put in their two cents on the issue.
“The man cleans his own clothes half as regularly as he does the training bibs”, according to ‘Raging Bull’ Nick R. “One time he failed to give full credit to the boys after a win”, stated a bitter Adam I. Another time “he refused to carb load on my Nonna’s pasta a la norma. It was just soul-destroying,” sobbed a distraught Steven. The final word came from club stalwart Bjorn, when asked about where Mr B ranked in the history of the club. “I always enjoyed playing next to Wayne – oh you mean Simon. Well I guess he’s an alright kid too, he’s still working out the offside rule, but after that I’m confident he’s our man.”
ACA attempted to clarify these issues with Mr. B several times from his front lawn, only to be cursed at by a silhouette, wearing nothing but a worn pair of Bonds underwear and holding an old leather suitcase. With the source acting like an impenetrable brick wall, this reporter had no choice but to go to press. The only thing we could make out from the brief encounter was that “tickets for this Friday are still available.”
By Tom H
The Hatchets take on Le Foot this Friday night. The game is sold out.