Melbourne Storm CEO Brian Waldron is worried about his coach on the eve of the club’s third straight grand final appearance.

Brian: “Craig, what’s wrong, mate.

"You’ve hardly said a word since you let fly with verbal bazooka at the media and the NRL judiciary and cost us 50 big ones.

"We all know Cam Smith was hung out to dry, but then you made sure the whole club was strung out over a bull ants nest by saying the whole process was smelly.”

Craig: “I’m not going to the grand final breakfast this morning – no way am I giving all those media hangers on the pleasure of my company, and David Gallop can go and get stuffed.

"Say Brian, take a look at the top of my noggin – does it look a bit thin to you?”

Brian: “Well, Craig, coaching will do that to you … especially coaching a code that nobody gives a stuff about down in Melbourne.

"Look Craig, we need the old Craig back, snapping out commands … not all sulky like you have been at training this week.

"And what’s with the surly upper lip look?

"It’s got the whole team talking.”

Craig: “What do you mean?”

Brian: “I mean that … you’re mouth doesn’t open, but it’s suddenly like you’re some grumpy old man, dirty on the world.

"What was that crack about the boys cutting out grappling with one another and getting a hold of the better person inside of every one of them.”

Craig: “I’m just sick of all the cheap shots we all throw at one another, Brian.

"Our whole existence here at the Storm and at the other NRL clubs seems to be about putting others down.”

Brian: “Well, that is the basic concept of rugby league. Put ’em down and keep down for as long as you can.”

Craig: “But we don’t go with the flow anymore … we stifle our players with robotic no-mistakes play, we make the game predictable and boring with hold downs and dummy half rushes, then kick for field position and finish the poor mugs off.

"Bloody hell, Brian, we’re dying with the music still inside us!”

Brian: “My god! I can see it now … how you’ve changed.

"Those years you spent in Brisbane under Benny shaped you more than you realised.

"It’s starting to come out like a suppressed memory under all the stress you’ve been putting us under.

"Some men are terrified of turning into their fathers … I’m afraid you’re starting to look and sound like the spitting image of the ultimate father figure … Wayne Bennett.”

Craig: “I’ve been having these urges of late … .to grow things.

"When I’m through planting seeds of greatness in our fine young footballers, I think I’ll buy a few hundred hectares out past Warwick and fatten some cattle.

"Yep, that’s what I’ll do … and maybe I’ll coach at St George … after we win Sunday’s game, of course.”

Brian: “But we have you signed on here for 2009.”

Craig: “That never stopped Wayne from walking.”

Brian: “Craig, get a grip man!

"You’re not Wayne Bennett and never will be.

"For a start, you’ve already lost one grand final and are on the verge of losing another if you don’t snap out of it.”

Craig: “I think I might even write a book…”

Brian: “Hell! All I can say Craig, is that it’s just as well our wrestling coach still has all his marbles.”

Craig: “Maybe I’ll switch to coaching Queensland….”

Brian: “Are you absolutely crazy?”

Craig: “No comment.”

Brian: “Benny … I mean Bellamy! Talk to me!”

Stony silence.