By ‘An undisclosed source not authorised to speak publicly’

This weekend against Gordon, Northern Suburbs’ stalwart Ashley “Ash” Hall notches up his 300th grade game for the club.

Ahead of the incredible milestone, Rugby News sat down with the great man to discuss what it meant to him.

Dressed in a silky cream shirt, a pair of baggy jeans and chocolate Birkenstocks, Hall orders us both large extra-hot Americanos without asking what I’d like.

“This club means everything to me. I arrived at Norths the same year as Wendell Sailor, so you can do the maths on that. Or maybe don’t!” he laughs.

The coffees are placed in front of us by a smiling waitress, and Hall picks his up before taking several large gulps of the piping hot liquid. Brown droplets fall down his chin and onto his shirt, steam billowing out of his mouth, he continues:

“I have literally gone from boy to man, all while playing at this club. I’ve seen it all- the highs, the lows. I couldn’t be prouder to be running out there this Saturday.”

Arriving in colts back when Sneaky Sound System and v-necks were in style, Hall is now playing with teammates who weren’t even born when he first turned up to Primrose Park for pre-season training.

“Playing with these fellas, it helps me still feel young. I’ve learned so much from them, they’re very emotional and it’s allowed me to reflect on how I express my authentic self. They taught me that life doesn’t come at you, it comes through you. It took me a while to figure that out, but now that I have, everything is starting to make sense.”

Hall lights up a cigarette and several people seated around us grimace. Despite the obvious non-smoking rule in place, Hall has always been one to walk to the beat of his own drum.

“The thing about playing so many matches, is that you tend to forget a lot of them. I think I’ve won a grand final… I know I’ve lost at least three of them. I dunno, it all just seems to blend together.”

Hall shrugs and waves the waitress over, “two more” he says, despite the fact I’d only had two sips of my extremely hot coffee.

I ask him how his body his holding up, and what motivates him to keep coming back year-after-year.

“Oh the body is buggered,” he chuckles.

“I honestly feel like if I stop, my body will fall apart, so I’m kind of stuck on this perpetual hamster wheel, if you will.”

He winks at the waitress and chugs half of his near-boiling second Americano.

“The main driver for me is my two beautiful sons. I want to leave them a legacy, something to be proud of. You know?”

I don’t know, as I’m not a father, but I can empathise with the sentiment.

“This club means so much to me, and nothing else compares to that final rub of deep heat early on a Saturday morning. Pulling up the red and black socks, looking my brothers in the eyes and going to war.”

“I don’t know how many more I have left in me, so I try to make sure I’m as present as possible each opportunity I get. I like to look around me and name five different things I can see. This is a good grounding technique that anyone can try.”

I get a sense that there is far more to Mr. Hall than meets the eye. There is an extremely calming energy when I sit with him, nicotine vapours dancing across the table and into my nostrils.

“I would love nothing more than to get the win against the Trash this Saturday. It would certainly make it one to remember. At the end of the day though, I’m just proud as punch to reach 300 games.”

Ashley then stands up and shouts, “somebody stop me!”

A smile beams across his face as he whispers in my ear, “Jim Carrey”.

Hall then gives me a high-five, winks and walks out of the café without saying another word.

A receipt is placed in front of me for four Americanos.