I’ve tossed and turned whether to write this because I don’t want to come across as bitter, ungrateful and angry in relation to my near four years in Hobart twenty years ago.

Of course I’m all those things 🙂 but it’s best that I reflect on the positives first before I bore you with the angst-ridden history as to the ‘why’.

Hobart is one of the world’s most beautiful ports. Mt Wellington provides an ominous backdrop over the city and The Derwent and depending on which direction you head into the CBD, Mt Wellington’s aspect can change into a myriad of spectacular views.

I used to coach Hobart FC whose home oval the TCA Ground had a view perfectly adjacent to the summit and I’ll never forget looking across to the snow on its peak during a freezing winter’s night.

MONA has definitely improved the culture and customer service in Hobart. David Walsh’s vision and money has invigorated the state let alone Hobart.

The Salamanca Markets and Constitution Dock have always been beautiful and it’s noticeable how much improved the area is now to cater for the tourists.

I hired some quality people during my tenure. Nick was an IT graduate who served us for a couple of years before moving to the mainland to finance and now is a successful entrepreneur in his native Tassie, with interests in a Hobart pub and two breweries. (The New Sydney Hotel, Shambles Brewery and Hopfields Margate if you’re visiting)

Andrew was my first recruit who I convinced to join me from Melbourne. He has had a successful career with Mars and is now a senior manager at the Mars factory in Ballarat. Sadly for him, he now has me as a neighbour! 🙂

Andrew looked after the north of Tassie, and was replaced by Craig from Canberra. He was a wild one and is now a sober senior manager with Nestle and a committed ultra-marathon runner.

Sarah from Launceston replaced Craig and was probably the only sensible one between us! She was a terrific representative and now is a mum and working with a hotel group.

The only other positive was the road north out of Hobart.

Its not particularly interesting but to understand my disillusionment, I apologise but I have to go back a bit.

In the early 2000’s I was employed by Diageo as an account manager. Diageo was the biggest alcoholic spirits company in the world and a fantastic place to work.

I’ve never worked for a business so strong on their people’s development and capability. It was a great culture with many great people.

My wife and I decided to move from Footscray to Phillip Island to raise our kids there. I had family in Cowes so we decided to build a new home. This meant a four hour round trip to get to work and home again so I would inevitably find myself couch surfing at friends occasionally which wasn’t ideal.

About six months later I was asked if I’d like to go to Tasmania. At that stage Tassie was being overseen by a Melbourne based manager but for whatever reason, Tassie was being neglected.

Word had been received from the wholesaler in Tassie that the sales rep in the north was stealing product and selling it on the streets to fund his gambling habit. The sales rep in the south had no passion for the role and the sales overall were in negative growth, absolutely unacceptable for our brands.

My wife was reluctant to go but I mistakenly thought it would be an opportunity to bring our family closer together.

In my first six weeks I lived in a hotel going stir crazy. I sacked the rep in the north and performance managed-out the rep in the south. I then set about working six days a week meeting as many customers as I could.

What I discovered was that that our entire customer base was the ‘tail wagging the dog’. The reps had no trading terms in place whatsoever and were dishing out discounts ‘willy-nilly’ to some very aggressive and unscrupulous customers.

Pulling back those discounts was never going to be pretty. One of the things I inherited that was bound to be trouble was the 2003 Rugby World Cup.

A game was being held at York Park in Launceston and the imbecile who I sacked was given the job of setting up a function within a customer’s pub for the game and to cater for our clients. We sponsored the World Cup with Bundy Rum.

We had paid a significant sum for the night at this pub and when I checked in to see the progress and meet the owner, my heckles were raised immediately.

He looked and behaved like Joe Pesci in Goodfellas. Belligerent, rude and delusional, he had clearly walked over the previous rep and got whatever he wanted.

By this stage of my tenure on the island there was no fight or flight. I was flightless. Just an angry dodo bird inviting confrontation. I demanded changes for the money we were paying and he kept hassling me for a product called Bundy Draught which we couldn’t get from the mainland because we weren’t ready to send it to Tassie.

On the two hour journey back to Hobart he rang me three times with a list of ridiculous demands including the Bundy Draught. On his last call which had deteriorated into a yelling match, he swore at me and I told him he was a weak c….

He rang my Director Dennis in Sydney who rang me very concerned. I tried to explain what I was dealing with and he was kind enough not to sack me.

My family had just arrived and within a couple of weeks we found a lovely log cabin in a place called Seven Mile Beach. We couldn’t believe where we were. A pristine beach, fifteen minutes from Hobart and cheap.

The following week I finally got a meeting with a prominent and influential hotelier in Hobart. This is how the conversation started.

“Are you from the mainland?”

“Yes, Melbourne”

“How long are you here for? Going back tomorrow are ya?”

“No, I’ve moved here. Hopefully for a long time.”

“ Whereabouts.”

“Seven Mile Beach.”

“What the f..k are are ya living out there for?”

“Sorry?”

“Why on earth would you live out there?”

“Gee I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because the house costs us a third of what we would pay in Melbourne or the fact that we are fifteen minutes from an Australian capital city or maybe because we are five minutes walk from a pristine beach. I’m not sure.”

Pregnant pause

“It’s f…kin miles away”

“OK let’s have a chat about how we can help you today shall we?”

This is Seven Mile Beach now complete with a new 6km trail on the hill as opposed to the goat track we used to use. The photos don’t do it justice.

And that was the precedent for what was to come with the Tasmanian businessmen. Fortunately we convinced many customers to engage in trading terms and subsequently grow their businesses. Word soon spread and suddenly the difficult ones were inviting us back.

After a year or so I then made another poor decision (I have a PhD in them) and accepted a head coaching role with Hobart FC. The club was in disarray due to having changed its identity and jumpers from Tigers to Lions. It was unnecessary and a complete disaster with all the past players and supporters opposed to it.

The first year was OK and there were some excellent young players to develop. The club gave me two more years on contract but in the second year we couldn’t even attract a seconds coach and I had to coach both! At three wins three losses, a handful of senior players unsuccessfully staged a coup to sack me.

I read about it at 6am in The Mercury on the tarmac of Hobart airport about to fly to Melbourne for our fortnightly leadership meeting. It was a shock and frankly humiliating. No one had ever spoken to me face to face. Only those senior players and the president knew. No one on the board knew about it when I confronted them the following night upon my return.

Although the board over ruled the president and captain voting not to sack me, the damage had been done so I pulled the pin with what dignity I had left. One of the board members quietly slipped me the details of a lawyer and I managed to get some of my contract paid. It wasn’t the money, just the principle.

A lot of this story of woe was my fault of course. Apart from being a deeply flawed individual, I had developed a bourgeoning dependence on beer and red wine and my marriage was in trouble.

Despite my faults I felt that before I went to Hobart, I was a genuinely kind, loyal and empathetic person. Off the football ground I was always a very placid person. By the time I left the island I was an alcoholic, homicidal maniac.

I really, really hate bullies and if I see it happening I become some type of vigilante on a mission to eradicate that behaviour forever. It was prolific during my time in Tassie and it left me wondering about where all this local angst comes from.

I’ve written about Alexander Pearce ad nauseum, but finally visiting Sarah Island was enlightening. The level of brutality that was executed on that little land mass was extraordinary.

Then there was Port Arthur, Maria Island and last but certainly not least, the eight year war.

I’ve just finished reading the biography of Tongerlongeter, the First Nations Leader and War Hero. Written by a couple of Tasmanian historians and academics, Henry Reynolds and Nicholas Clements it’s a fantastic book.

What struck me in the book was the heinous violence exchanged between the Aboriginals and the settlers. Tongerlongeter defending his people superbly until he was forced into an armistice before the might of the colonials and their weapons wiped everyone out.

Both sides were guilty of the most appalling crimes and brutality imaginable, before the last of the Aboriginals were transported to Flinders Island. It’s another story that needs more recognition if we are to truly understand our First Nations people.

I guess what I’ve learned through reading Tassie’s history is that anger and violence is an inherent and an over indexed constituent of its history compared to other states.

In a mathematical sense, if you somehow divide historical heinous crimes into population to come up with a percentage, I’m tipping Tassie would come up trumps.

Don’t forget, the south of Tassie hate the north of Tassie ala the Hatfields and McCoys. Campbelltown is the dividing line. Each half of the state have different breweries and public holidays.

When you think that the events like the eight year war happened about a ‘great grandfather time-ago’ it’s not unfeasible to think that this explains the behaviour of the Tassie businessman. It’s in the genes.

So now north and south and multiple layers of government that exist in a capital city the size of Greater Geelong are going to make a decision on a new footy ground at Macquarie Point.

Good luck Tassie. My advice? Get a mediator in asap and ensure it’s a female.