The Chad needs a round of golf and the Snitch is just the man for the job.

I’ve dusted off my plus fours and diamond socks and left Saturday afternoon free. I’m encouraging Chad Warner to do the same.

Sydney’s great midfield linebreaker can free his mind of the travails of a 0-2 start as the Swans eye off Fremantle at Burswood on Sunday and I could get to work convincing him why he’d look better in the gold wings of the West Coast Eagles or the purple livery of the Dockers than in the red and white of the Harbour City.

Last year, I raised the heckles of Sydney’s powerbrokers — they were all over me like an alpaca wool poncho at Bindoon Rock — by revealing the Chad and his girlfriend had been wined and dined at Crown courtesy of Fremantle.

So I’ve decided to have a crack myself, but in less glamorous, more inconspicuous style over a leisurely nine holes.

I’m going to book my favourite course, Point Walter.

It might become his local after all as it’s only a Big Bertha drive or two from the $2.9m Applecross home he purchased over the summer.

We’ll park footy talk. I’ll remind Chad about the good, old days of the riverside oasis when the prawns were running and Mrs Snitch and I used to drag a net up and down the shallows in our matching galoshes.

We’d unload our haul, heat a pot of water over a gas stove, cuddle up in our favourite picnic rug and devour the tasty crustaceans in De Campo sangers over a glass of Dolin Vermouth de Chambery.

Or I could reminisce about the day I aced the sixth when I sent Mrs Snitch ahead to ball spot.

I whacked it, accidentally of course, straight at Mrs Snitch, but before I’d had a chance to yell ‘fore”, the ball bounced off the lid of her army green Aladdin thermos, on to the green and into the hole.

Remarkable. That’s what Mrs Snitch said.

Of course the Chad can make his own memories back in his home State should he choose to return.

All it will take is a cool $1.4 mil a season to match the Swans’ offer of a two-year extension that will take him up to free agency. Free agency? Had a different connotation back when I was a virile colt.

In the meantime, Mrs Snitch has been busy weaving miniature Chad macrame dolls and aims to sell them at $10 a pop with all proceeds going to the Bring The Chad Home fund.

No third party deal there. Just some honest, patriotic toil.

GRASS FED

The Snitch admires the curators at Optus Stadium. The surface looks schmick, but I wonder if they are playing into the hands of visiting teams.

Take the Gold Coast Suns and their record winning margin against the Eagles on Sunday.

We all know about the peculiar habit of their inside bull Matt Rowell, who likes to chow down on some blades before a game to get a “taste” for the surface.

My OS insiders have been spruiking the extensive scarification works across the summer that have led to a plush cushion of couch, rye and artificial grass.

I’m calling it too lush and too damn tasty because Rowell was obviously feeling fully charged when he destroyed the Eagles. Rowell was all arms, timing and rhythm like a whirling dervish in perpetual motion.

He could not have got more of the footy he’d fallen from 1000 feet into a Sherrin factory.

Next time, make it a little less inviting to the Sun’s palate.