Jimmy, Jesus and the Blame Game.

Tony Allen Gregson – Official Biographer for Coach Munro

A year ago we read Tony Munro took what he thought was sage advice on how to win a premiership. Advice that nearly came through and won him an elusive first grade premiership as coach. Stephen Gaul had given him a WWJD bracelet which led him to Jimmy the Greek. Jimmy advised him of a plan to pick his team. The story picks up a year later, Munro was beaten but not broken, his wife Jo relishing the whip in hand....

Staring at the WWJD bracelet the heavenly Steve Gaul had given to him almost a year ago, Coach Munro looked at it and cursed. He had interpreted it to mean What Would Jimmy Do, however it seemed that a year on, the son of a fruit salesman, whose mother was a concretor, had sold him up the river. Jimmy the Greek loved being number one. Because of this selfishness Munro’s team had finished as the first loser, in an epic encounter, with cross town rivals with no suburb, Wanderers. Runners up in an extra time show down. So close. Now, he was back to picking his squad for the year. His lovely wife Jo could see he was strained.

It was instinct. Jimmy the Greek hadn’t told him everything that day a year ago. Munro could smell something fishy and it wasn’t Rosie Garner’s copy of "Salty Cods" Scratch and Sniff fishing magazine, open on the bathroom counter. He had borrowed the magazine after both garners advised him, it was what hardened them before game day. Munro thought this was weird, that a fishing magazine would strengthen these two brothers mentally, but they were weird. They had told him it was best read in the bathroom with the door shut. Munro’s instincts had to be right about Jimmy they were definitely correct about the Garners, Rosie in particular. There was something missing to Jimmy’s game plan. There was a reason he had failed. "Definitely fishy", he thought as he closed the magazine.

Yes, Jimmy held out last year like a pimp would to a twenty dollar whore. Munro had learned about pimping during the year from durry munching 2nd grade prop Trent Considine. Considine had learnt a pimps life in the hood of the eastern suburbs of Mayfield. It was survival of the fittest over there, and Considine was definitely fittest opitimised. Considine’s club had folded, and he brought his gold tooth and three finger rings over to Carlton, surviving better than super 14 crowds. Considine had even pimp slapped former rep front rower Nathan Foreshore all the way to university to show who the new kid in town was. Tying up Foreshore with elastoplast and inserting a sock in his mouth may have been a bit much. It wasn’t. All Forey’s new university friends took a shine to this. When they found him on the steps of the tanner bar, they all found they fit in really tightly. Second grade was going to be good for Foreshore. Considine was a good man to learn from and Munro was beginning to realise that Jimmy the Greek had played him for a fool.

Munro always followed his own instincts, but Jimmy’s tips, or the information he gave, were good too. Too good. Munro had consistently picked young front rower Jay Strachan in the centres to good measure and it paid off. Munro also followed Jimmy’s advice by giving the captaincy back to Dan Garner and dropped the over rated and under achieving Ben Finnie. Initially he had thought the Waratah connection of Finnie and Jamie Lind was a winning one, however he realised that the large back sides of Garner and Jamie Lind were the key to good captaincy. Finnie of course had his back side bitten off by Blubba Coleman in his brief stint at Hamilton. Munro had also picked local Greek boy James Bertsos under the advice of Jimmy. James was a revelation and he was initially only in to keep the tradition of fat bottomed captains and Greeks at the helm. No Jimmy had left something out to in helping Munro with his tactics.

Munro looked towards the heavens and thought, could the WWJD bracelet he wore for the year really stand for "What would Jesus Do". Did his coaching mentor, the French Vicar, Steve Gaul, really wish him to pray to Jesus to help get his team over the line. Munro was sure it stood for What Would Jimmy Do. In any case, Munro had always thought that Jesus couldn’t play rugby, he wore illegal head gear, there were holes in his hands and the Jew would never pay his fees. The she - devil, Christine Neader and her man servant Dennis would never allow someone to not pay their fees. Besides that, Jesus would take all the credit for everything happening around him at the club, Munro failed to see how well this would sit with Christine and Dennis. Jesus wasn’t the answer in this case.

Munro had decided to wash his hands of Jimmy the Greek. He tore the bracelet off and threw it to the sand. It had just missed the for sale sign on his house at the cliff. Jimmy had cost him a lot of things that year. Even his dream of moving south to blacksmiths, were the beaches are more southern, would be postponed. He would have to rent in Merewether. He was already disgusted in the view his current house had of a new skate park, proposed by a council that was unfit to run a three legged race, let alone a city with the potential of Newcastle.

"Why wouldn’t they support and give funding to a community building like a redeveloped Green Room?"

Sometimes he wished Paul Murphy would run for mayor, other times he just wished to punch Aaron Buman in the face. He thought Fenton Couhls dream of having an integrated tennis, rugby stadium at Empire was the best option. However, Fenton had no experience in big events according to this council. Munro had become sidetracked. He needed to come up with a team as he was fronting the committee in an hour. A committee that didn’t like second place.

Meanwhile, Four men and one woman gathered in the bowels of a decrepit, decaying building that once housed greatness. Greatness had become history, hanging on walls, glory had been forgotten, like the building where these five people were sitting in a semi circle, waiting. Its structure of concrete and brick gave way to a smell of Metsol and rising damp. The she – devil, her man servant Dennis, Tim Wolfe – the batman and Tim Partridge – his Robin, Jode Roach – second grade coach, Hika Reid – Mike Rabbits second understudy and Rod Hood - who was brought on to the committee to fix the club. The two Tim’s were a box package, so they always counted themselves as one. It was an hour before Munro and his staff were to front the board. The she devil had the floor.

"Do we want to sack Munro, that’s the question?" She wailed like a banshee.

"If we do that means I have to coach firsts. I’m happy to do that if I can still be on the committee, coach seconds and play thirds. I’d like to still organise the bbq’s, the away buses, any buck show or 21st,going away part, coming home party, engagements(including mine), university classes for the colts, fat as Butter - if Greg will let me – in fact I could just manage King St too, play golf Saturday mornings with my balding friends Michael and Mathew, help all the mums get their kids to swimming classes and write the poem for the day on the green luncheon?" Coach Roach stopped only to get his breath back. "I’ll also get Melissa to wash the jerseys."

"I’ve got an idea". It was Tim Partridge.

"What". Snapped Christine.

"It’s an idea." Tim was gazing into the air, lost in his own imagination.

"What is it." The she devil was agitated.

"Its a good one." Everyone was sure Tim had a good idea somewhere in there. He was definitely a man with all the ideas.

"You’re a waste of space Tim." Christine was scathing. Dennis sat there chuckling, he was a loyal man servant.

"Easy Chris." It was Tim Wolfe now stepping in to defend his loyal friend Partridge. He guided Tim like a puppy dog and wasn’t going to let him be humiliated. "How about we get Jimmy back. Hes proven and he’s current."

"Yeah but he’s no good without Dennis Shaw, and Dennis won’t do it, he said so on my community radio show. We’re a pretty big deal, ask my friend, Mike Rabbit." Hika Reid was never one to miss a spruiking opportunity. "In any case I heard they wanted to coach the Newcastle team and they are currently in court getting their coaching qualifications revoked as they were over qualified."

"How about we let the coach explain himself." Rod was a voice of reason behind this amateur board. His experience in the local business community was invaluable in driving the club forward. In his short tenure of 3 weeks on the committee, Rod had already motioned for 352 sub committees, 2400 written proposals, 1500 bank audits and a plate of Chinese. If anything he was thorough. He even kept the receipt for the Chinese. "He deserves a chance for us to judge him."

This was agreed upon and they sat in the depths of the decaying green room discussing more frivolous matters that such amateur committees often discuss. Back to the cliff, Munro had about half an hour to finalise the team in his head. He also had to come up with a plan to impress a committee who was after his head. It suddenly dawned on him and he smiled. The bracelet given to him didn’t necessarily mean Jesus or Jimmy, it just meant have faith in what you do. Munro knew of someone that could restore faith to his side and it wasn’t the son of a concretor. It certainly didn’t lay with a man who had 12 friends, Carlton didn’t play Rugby League.

Munro had agreed to pick up his staff. They would support him in silence at the meeting. It had been pre arranged that none of them would speak. Especially the bumbling, Jack Merlin. He arrived at Bobby’s House and beeped the horn on his Van. Bobby strutted out after about five minutes of honking. "Hurry up." Munro snarled, he was getting anxious.

"Sorry Munza, I was just making the wife do Malcolm Sets."

"Couldn’t you just make her do the washing? What kind of a last name is Sets anyway, it sounds South African."

"No, Malcolm’s are where you go up and down in intervals, Forward, back, down, forward, back, down. Its very rhythmic."

"I don’t think its reserved for just Malcolm mate, anyway what you do in your spare time is up to you, as long as these kids are the fittest they’ve been for the start of the year, your wife can do Malcom, Peter or Joe Frazier as far as I’m concerned."

There was little conversation as they drove to Jack’s house. Again Munro beeped the horn. He ran out all excited and tripped on some plastic plumbing pipe he had left lying on the front yard. Jack had found this new material to be more sturdy and cheaper than the old copper pipe he used to use. It also gave him much bigger margins and he didn’t bother adjusting the price for his clients. When he got up he bumped his head on his brand new boat and accidently knocked over the Harley he had bought himself. It unfortunately fell onto the brand new Ferrari Spider he had bought his wife. She wouldn’t be happy, but he would buy her a new one.

"Hurry up Jack, are you drunk again? Please don’t tell me you are drunk."

"No, No, just excited. Jason Toby is out and my friend Leyton has agreed to fill in as skills coach."

"Who is he and what does he do."

"I don’t really know but we can ask him, here’s his address." With that, Munro sped off to the destination. He wasn’t happy that one of his coaching staff had pulled out. Carlton was a family club. He was even less happy that Merlin had taken it upon himself to find someone. Hopefully it would work out. They arrived at a plush inner city residence and again, the horn was honked.

"Hi I’m Leyton." The first thing Munro noticed was his beaming smile.

"Jump in the van." Munro was in a hurry, he had about ten minutes to get to the green room. "What do you do, do you have a story?"

"Not really, I moved here from Ireland, over there I used to work at Chicago."

"What, the old department store?" Munro had heard of this place, the other two were perplexed. "You, you used to work at Chicago?"

"Yeah, I don’t work there anymore." It turned out that Munro had been looking at franchising opportunities to bring the famous Irish department store to Australia. Over the next ten minutes they talked shop, briefly forgetting about Rugby and relaxing his mind. Leyton was an ideal replacement for Jason Toby and the disappointment of losing him was washed away.

The four men walked through the tunnel where so many great men had run out of. Munro could feel the Clarkes, the Raisebecks and the Ryan’s aura as he approached the sitting committee. He turned around and Pete Ryan was actually standing there hanging around, wanting to be part of something. Nonetheless, the aura of the greats still stuck with him. This gave him the confidence to front the board, headed by the she devil.

The lights were dim and eerie, so Munro switched them on. "Gee we were looking for that light switch." Tim Partridge spoke.

There was silence. Christine said one word. "Speak"

Munro cleared the back of his throat. The coaching staff shuffled their feet. They were standing behind him. "Firstly I’d like to say thanks again for the opportunity. For the past six months I’ve been looking for an excuse. I’ve tried to blame that filthy tabouli eating rat Jimmy Thievious, I’ve tried to blame the players, I’ve even looked to God, but I realise it is on me." Munro was captivating, for the next 30 minutes he explained how he had devised a plan to take back the first grade premiership. It was awe inspiring. Merlin was crying. Tim and Tim were holding hands. Only Leyton was smiling.

"The last thing I propose to do is bring in a speaker for motivation." Munro was wrapping it up. He knew he had won them over. I will announce the team on our season launch and then I will give you a great - Budda Handy."He paused.

"Budda Handy?" Rod Hood spoke. He was a man of numbers and procedures, he didn’t know who Budda Handy was. "Why do you want to give people wristy’s with Karma?" Rod was clearly dumbfounded.

"Budda Handy is an Australian Rugby legend. He’s commentated all around the world, he knows the recipe to winning, among other recipes like fried chicken and BBQ ribs. He’s played everywhere from half to front row. He’s an ideal motivator and he’s the key to a successful season. Sure he’s not Jesus or Jimmy, he’s better, and instead of making a monkey out of us, he will make us all monks."

With that the committee reinstated Munro and asked him for his team. He went home happy, His wife Jo was there to greet him in her favourite skivvy. She had a big smile on her face. "Let me get under that Skivvy." She knew things had gone well.

"It went well darling?" Jo looked hot under the collar of her skivvy. "Did they like your idea of the Budda?

"They loved it. I’m back in. I’ve think I’ve found my Yogi, bear with me, be my Cindy." With that he unzipped his fly,

"Oh darling well done, but Cindy Bears turned into Grisly Bear, sorry honey."

"She couldn’t possibly be a brown bear for the night?" They shared a laugh and dimmed the lights. The season was now set in place.

Tony’s Team

1. Mick Gill – Built for it and with his ball skills diminishing after shoulder surgery, there really is no other place for him to go. He has modelled his career on Gareth Wasik’s although his path to front row is definitely a quicker fall from grace, this ex centre is still the second best sledger in the club.
2. Dan Garner(c) – Still there because the greens need a captain with a big behind. Sir mix a lot likes big butts and so does Carlton. Plenty of whacking off to fishing mags has strengthened his throwing arm in the off season.
3. Jay Strachan – It’s inevitable that Strachan follows the same path as Gill and Wasik, may as well train him up early.
4. Jode Roach – Even though he’s on crutches has 13 bulging discs, a hernia, a hump on his back, a club foot, is coaching second grade and playing 3rds, Munro thinks he deserves his spot.
5. Ed Macdonald – With Ben Finnie being coaxed by Hamilton and Munro expecting a mid season move, the club needs one string bean to jump at two to win at least one lineout a match.
6. Adam Nolan – Still suspended but will add to the penalty count even on the sideline and Munro is happy to play a man down until he is available to play. Discipline is over rated.
7. Danny Curtis – This loosey is Loose with his women and wine, Munro had to pick someone crazier than Nolan. The only downside is he’s barred from every pub or club in Newcastle apart from the Gallipoli Legion.
8. Dillon Evans – He eats rocks and normally plays front row. Hes too muscular now after a pre season with the fabulous Billy Coffey, Merewether’s own PT. He has also got a spray on tan and is competing in the National body building championships, hoping to be the first red head to ever win.
9. James Bertsos – After RBDS found him suitable employment in the area, being Newcastle’s number 1 recruiter, there is only one position for the good Greek, other than the Project Manager position RBDS found for him. Thats halfback. He has also brought out his own brand of Baklava based hair Gel. "It sticks."
10. Sam Clifton – Will be the find of the year if James lets his hand go and play his own game.
11. Daniel Spiteri – Won’t tackle, will run. Typical winger. Has a hot sister though.
12. Billy Coffey – Was a winger but a concentrated off season has made him look like a white Lou Ferringo. His parents have changed the doors in his hose from 720’s to 820’s.
13. Rosie Garner – Helped Strachan realise his potential at outside centre last year, maybe Rosie will do the same.
14. Kurt Banks – has won his spot through his impeccable sportsmanship and all round ability on the touch football field on Thursday nights. Easily the best player in that comp, he is also reconsidering changing his last name back to Plant, just for the green room. It never gets old.
15. ????????? – Wait and see. I’m guessing Wes Naqama.