Yet again he was named one of our best and showed phenomenal courage in our win over Adelaide, so this week I thought I’d write an ode to one of our favourite Blue Baggers.

Streaming out of the back line,
Weighing no more than a kid,
Taking bounce after bounce after bounce,
And if we were without him – oh god forbid.

It’s Simmo, it’s Simmo!

He can kick them short; he can kick them long,
His left foot piercing through the night.
But what’s this? Oh no! This could go anywhere…
He’s being forced to kick with his right!

It’s Simmo, it’s Simmo!

He’ll run back with the flight of the ball,
Never thinking about injury,
It’s the kind of thing, if it was I,
I’d probably do a little wee.

It’s Simmo, it’s Simmo!

Down he goes, sprawled on the turf,
We’re thinking “surgery he’ll undergo”
Because he cops more of a pounding,
Than Grant Hackett’s grand piano.

It’s Simmo, it’s Simmo!

But up he gets, this brave man,
His head he has never ducked,
And if anyone bags our Kade,
Then tell them to get… lost.

It’s Simmo, it’s Simmo!

Outside of Carlton,
He may not be the most revered,
But to all our the people in Navy Blue,
He’s our champ Simmo with the beard.