A Letter to our Community
By now you’ve probably heard that Crouching went absolutely ape shit after Richmond won the flag.
Absolutely off his chops. Even by his standards.
You may have even seen some of the imagery going around the world wide internet.
The dry rooting of the Premiership Cup and of Dimma. The closed caption footage from a series of Thirsty Camel stores. The turd in the coaches box at The Adelaide Oval. The mutilated livestock. Those others we can’t even mention.
Right off his chops.
Higgo and I have spent a lot of the off season searching for him. We followed an unconfirmed sighting to The Bungle Bungles in WA. Columbia. Amsterdam. Hastings. Pyanmah itself. Dandenong Family Holiday Park. Been all over the shop.
We eventually found the beautiful prick in a small village in Puerto Rico. Got there just in time. The locals were in the process of burning him to death.
They’d found him kneeling by a stream, feasting on the flank of a recently killed Buffalo. Suspected he was the mythical Chupacabra. Strung the poor prick up above a pile of wood and burned him. Burned him bad.
But we found him. We got him.
He’s doing alright. Not speaking yet. Strange far-off look in his eyes. Unable to move any limbs or facial features on the right hand side of his body. Lower half of his body charred like an overcooked snag. But we think he’ll be ok.
We think our mate will get through this.
He’s with his family now. I catch a bus there each morning to redress his burns and slip him a sly six pack of Bundy Rum when Mrs Crouching leaves the room.
Higgo visits with Cathy and Father Ondown, the local priest. They sprinkle incense and shit on him for a few hours each day and chant shit.
Higgo won’t let on about Cathy. I reckon he might have. Not sure. He won’t let on. Shit I love my friend.
I’ve been living off the land. Found a nice patch of State Forest to call my own. Snarin rabbits. Diggin yams. Off the grid. Close enough to the coast to grab a wave a few times a week and hang the toes off the nose.
You see, the last few months with Crouching have caused both of us to think about life. About death. About the earth.
And about the wonderful opportunities that all of us have for new beginnings and rebirth.
A new dawn.
Today myself, Peter Higginbotham and The Crouching One are stepping down from holding the honour of leading this community for season 2018.
And mark my words my beautiful friends – THIS IS A DAY TO CELEBRATE.
For on this day we hand the baton over to three of the most impressive individuals a bloke or chick will even come across. Three men who embody what this community is all about.
Three men who understand that SuperCoach is important. Bloody important. Bloody FUN. But above all else – three men who understand the very essence of this thing and importantly – of this community.
Togetherness. Kinship. Brotherhood. Sisterhood. Respect. Positivity. Encouragement. A beacon of light in a world where too many humans don’t understand what life’s all about.
They understand that we fight the good fight on these internet pages. All of you do.
Lekdog. Barron Von Crown. Patch.
Step forward now my sons. Lead this community. Feed my people. Lead them onwards to green pastures of Supercoach Supremacy
I’m extremely proud of each on of you. I love you – and Higgo, Crouching and me will always love this community.
Let’s not get all bloody misty – let’s kick this bloody season off!! Whack your teams in the comments and let’s make beautiful SuperCoach.