Ken Hinkley was in his element. He was in the Royal Tasmanian Botanical Gardens, flicking the journos to third man and fine leg. He already sounded like a local. He was already trafficking in the “we”, in the “us against the mainland”, in the “ich bin Tasmanian”. His handover at Port Adelaide had been so scripted, so corporate, so Koschy. He had impressed, and probably burnished his coaching credentials, during his brief stint in the media. But he always seemed raring to get back into the real stuff.
To understand why Hinkley was chosen as Tasmania’s first coach, it’s worth looking at the men who missed out. Nathan Buckley was the firm early favourite, but perhaps lacked the ability to be a salesman, to charm the birds from the trees, to “spruik the gospel” as Devils CEO Brendon Gale says. John Longmire has taken a team to five grand finals, but has a cushy role at the Sydney Swans, and seems more relaxed than he has in two decades. Both Buckley and Hinkley always seemed more prepared to upend their lives, to move to the island, and to start a team from scratch.
