Here's a little bit of guidance for the Hawthorn coach in the way he dished it out to a Tasmanian reporter at the weekend.

CLOSE this paper for a moment, will you? Closed? Good. Now, listen up, you f---ing little prick. You going to apologise now for that crap on Saturday? Are you? Well? WELL?

You f---.

Don't give me any of that s--- about the integrity of the club. And if you say anything about "family club", I'll puke.

You a---hole.

You want me to tell you what this is all about? F--- me: as if you don't know. You turn up in Launceston with two players under injury clouds. One, Jordan Lewis, hardly trains. The other, Brad Sewell, leaves the training track early. The two emergencies train. Remember?

Brett Stubbs writes about this in Hobart's Mercury newspaper. Want me to read it to you again? "Like a secret agent in a paperback novel, Hawthorn coach Alastair Clarkson thrives on cloak and dagger secrecy. Asked if Jordan Lewis was fully fit to return from a thigh injury for today's blockbuster against the Western Bulldogs at Aurora Stadium, Clarkson barked back: 'Well we picked him.' "

The headline read: "Cagey Clarkson".

And so you give him a dirty great gobful. For that? For writing what any reporter worth his salt would have written in the circumstances? For writing exactly what happened?

F---ing hell.

Don't give that look, you piece of s---. Oh, so he was supposed to take you at your word, was he? Like last year, when he took the club at its word that a certain player would play, and he didn't. Then it happened again. "Cagey Clarkson"? More like clueless Clarkson if you ask me. Or crap-artist Clarkson.

No, I'm not done. You've got form, fella. A couple of times at least. What is it with you? Bit hot in the kitchen, is it? Can't handle it? Well I'm telling you: people are watching. People at your own club. And they're not happy.

You've got a bit to learn, you know. It might have been OK once for coaches to carry on like schoolyard bullies. But times have changed. You guys crap on all the time now about professionalism and respect — and then you pull a stunt like that.

F--- me dead.

Frankly, it amazes me that you'd even bother. I would have thought that having lost your first match this season, you'd have lots of other things to worry about than bawling out a reporter on the local paper. Like winning next week.

Pre-season, I wrote a column complaining about the secrecy and paranoia of footy clubs. Yours was one. I was roundly taken to task by some fans for being so precious. Fair enough. Who's bloody well precious now?

And what about the last time you were in Launceston, a few weeks ago, and Mark Williams made that choking gesture. You gave us that little family club speech about being "humble and gracious", how it was "not in line with how we like to go about our footy" and how Williams had better apologise. Looks a bit f---ing sanctimonious now, don't you think?

Or maybe doing the butter-wouldn't-melt-in-your-mouth act while the cameras and tape recorders are on and then tipping a foul-mouthed bucket of invective on a reporter as soon as they're switched off is how you like to go about your footy at the family club?

Just remind me not to be around the next time a reporter actually gets something wrong.

You've got to think about what's at stake here. You've got a good team, and it's going places. It's an exciting time for the club. You want to p--- it all up against the wall? Yeah, the media is a pest, and doesn't really matter, and media relations won't win you a premiership. But they might lose you one, if you keep this up. It's a distraction for everyone.

Now get the f--- out of here. And open that newspaper on your way out.