THE absurdity that Parramatta is on the hunt for a new coach is laid bare on page 280 of Nathan Hindmarsh's soon-to-be-released autobiography.
A few weeks before the 2010 season ended, Hindmarsh and Nathan Cayless were called to a meeting with chairman Roy Spagnolo and then-chief executive Paul Osborne.
"Do you want Daniel Anderson to be your coach next year?" they asked the players.
"Yes. We do."
"Fine. He's your coach next year," they said point-blank.
Two weeks later, Anderson was sacked.
As Hindmarsh explains in his book, Old School: "That pissed me off. Some people said it was about (former chief executive) Denis Fitzgerald and that the board wanted to make a clean break.
"I was filthy. I had known Daniel for years, ever since my time as a junior. Beyond that, I was always going to back him. Two years is not enough time for a coach to achieve his goals, and it's not enough time to judge whether he's been a success, particularly after he'd taken us to the grand final in his first year."
Whether it was the right move or not, the decision to sack Anderson created a chain of events that nobody at the Eels saw coming, not least the veteran backrower.
It ended in the sorry scene yesterday with an ashen-faced Hindmarsh at a press conference sitting next to Stephen Kearney, who confirmed he was standing down as coach after a season-and-a-half of darkness.
"There are no hard feelings," Hindmarsh told The Daily Telegraph this week of Anderson's premature demise. "Things had changed. I understand that. You can't always keep promises and that's life. Circumstances changed. As much as I wanted Ando to remain for another season, it wasn't to be.
"I was filthy at the time but it took me a week to get over it. You're trying to run a business, and that's how businesses are run."
As a football team, though, the Eels are at rock bottom.
Hindmarsh explains in his book how Kearney had displayed a hard-arsed attitude the moment he walked in.
"If you're not willing to work hard, you can f. .k off," Kearney told the players on the first day of pre-season training in 2011.
New assistant coach Brad Arthur set a brutal standard. He was quickly nicknamed "Tummy Ache" because he was "very hard, and hammered us in training".
The fact those tough words on day one have failed to bring about the systematic change Spagnolo and his board had envisaged means one of their proudest players is glaring at the possibility of finishing his final season with the wooden spoon.
Hindmarsh talks in his book about the relief of avoiding it last year. What of this year?
"Of course, no one wants to win the spoon, particularly in my last year," he says. "I haven't succumbed to the point where we're going to receive it, but if it happens it happens. That's part of playing the sport we love.
"Unfortunately, for us, it could be this year."
Is he comfortable with the way his 15-year career is going to end?
"What do you do? Honestly?" he says firmly. "For me, I'll be more disappointed that I didn't win a grand final. I would've loved to have won a grand final. I've been fortunate enough to play in two. A lot of blokes haven't played in any. I've managed to play for my country and my state so I can't really complain."
Hindmarsh can say that but there wouldn't be a soul in the game who didn't wish something better for the most popular bloke in the NRL.
He admits in Old School that the captaincy in the last two seasons has been challenging.
While he's a throwback to a different era, young footballers have changed considerably since he was the freckle-faced kid under the watchful eye of coach Brian Smith, who he singles out as the most influential person in his life apart from his parents.
During Hindmarsh's 300th match of his career last season, he saw a blank look on the face of backrower Taniela Lasalo. He gave him a gobful.
"Younger blokes have changed," Hindmarsh says. "But we've changed as older players as well. I won't say we let them get away with things, but when I came through the grades I would barely say a word unless I was spoken to by blokes like Jim Dymock and Jason Smith. I was very cautious around them, and made sure I did what I was told. As long as blokes have put in, I don't care about the result.
"What I can't cop is blokes not putting in, week in and week out. I'm not targeting anyone, I'm just speaking in general ... The captaincy has been a challenge."
He has just seven matches to go.
"Will I be all right in retirement?" he says. "I don't know. I know I will be, but when my brother (Ian) first retired he said he definitely missed it. For nearly half my life, I've played rugby league for Parra. I'm looking forward to retiring, to weekends, to being normal.
"Enjoying my weekends without the pressure of having to go out and make 50 tackles."
Those last 50 tackles will be made at Parra Stadium against the Dragons in the final round. An emotional final lap beckons.
"That goes through my head," he smiles. "I remember the Mortimers when they retired, with the kids on the field with the jerseys on, after a grand final. There will probably be tears. I get a bit emotional. Actually, I'll be with Burty (Luke Burt) so he will be the one crying, I'd say. I'll get over it. I've got another 30 years of doing whatever I've got to do."
