Gee, thanks Jimmy. For nothing.

It's not as if Matthew Knights' job coaching Essendon wasn't tough enough already; it's not as if every second supporter wants him marched to the front door of the EFC offices, given a swift boot in the pants and told never to come back; it's not as if the playing list he inherited doesn't boast some of the most mediocre talent ever to grace an AFL field; and it's not as if he doesn't need a bit of solidarity from senior figures at Bomberland to help him get through these bleak times. You know, rally around the leader, make the right noises, fly the flag, that sort of thing.

Then Hirdy comes along and dips his oar in. 'I wouldn't mind coaching Essendon one day,' says Jim. 'In fact, it's always been a dream of mine'.

Well, that's just fine and dandy, Jimbo. Just what Knighter needed. And captain Jobe Watson, and everyone else around the club trying to hold the place together.

Because didn't that get the 64,850 football reporters - or whatever the latest figure is - all steamed up and in a state of high excitement? Hourly bulletins were posted, TV reporters did live crosses from Windy Hill and Facebook pages were set up hailing the return of the Messiah. All because Hirdy decided to blab a stream of consciousness.

And there was poor old Knighter, turning up to training the next day looking as though he'd seen a ghost, trying to keep the media at bay and his team's mind on the job.

Then what happens? Hirdy decides a little while later that perhaps he doesn't want to be the Essendon coach after all. Well, not next year anyway but, after that, who knows? Beauty, Jim, that's just brill. Thanks heaps.

So what the former premiership captain, Norm Smith medallist, Brownlow Medallist and all-round golden boy has effectively done is pull the pin on a very large grenade, toss it over the Windy Hill ramparts and right in the middle of the Essendon bunker. Then, when the joint's been blown to smithereens, he's thought 'Strewth, that made a fair bit of noise' and walked away, hands in pockets, looking over his shoulder, whistling all the while.

It might not have been his intention to create such carnage. One certainly hopes not. But it's difficult to credit him - a bloke who's been the traps for almost 20 years - with such incredible naivete. Of course the AFL world was going to work itself into a lather with his admission that he'd like a crack at steering the ship. Especially given the parlous state Essendon is in now.

Meanwhile, Knights, Watson et al spent the next few days back at the fort, trying to keep the marauders from the front gates.

It was scarcely any wonder that after such a seriously dramatic week, and horribly disrupted preparation, that the club was given a flogging on Sunday. And a flogging by a team that had won just two of its previous 16 matches.

The Bombers' score of 2.4 at the main break was their lowest half-time tally in their 102 matches at Colonial Stadium/Telstra Dome/Etihad Stadium. That they were able to rally in the second half speaks volumes for the spirit among the players, the majority of whom yesterday had not played 50 games.

There will be many among the Essendon faithful who feel Hird's rare talent on the field should be given a chance to express itself in the coaches box. And it might be that the great No.5 is the answer to their prayers, that he can lead this current rabble out of the wilderness. That he is indeed the Chosen One.

But there's not a jot of evidence to suggest champion players can slip straight into a senior AFL coaching role without any sort of apprenticeship and if Hird needed any proof of that, he need only have a quiet word with the man in the opposition coaches box at Etihad yesterday - also a premiership captain, Brownlow Medallist, near-Norm Smith Medallist and one-time golden boy - who's finding this coaching caper is not quite as easy as it looks.