SIMON Black is the lowest profile high-profile player I've seen. He's a Brownlow medallist, Norm Smith medallist, triple premiership player, triple All-Australian, triple club champion and club co-captain. And as of last night he's a 200-gamer.

He's the most decorated player among 700-odd presently in the AFL. But what do you really know about the left-footed midfield maestro of the Brisbane Lions? I'm guessing not too much.

It's not because he shuns the spotlight or is a particularly private person. It's just the way it has worked out. Through the golden era of the Lions, there were others who assumed a greater public presence.

He first arrived in Brisbane a shy 71-kilogram kid from WA, taken at No. 32 in the 1997 draft — a number that must embarrass a few recruiting types.

The top 10 that year was pretty hot: Travis Johnstone, Brad Ottens, Trent Croad, Mark Bolton, Luke Power, James Walker, Kris Massie, Chris Tarrant, Chad Cornes and Shane O'Bree. But of those between 11 and 31, only Jason Saddington, Shannon Watt, Dean Solomon, Troy Longmuir, Nick Stevens, Brodie Holland and Rowan Jones are still playing AFL football.

Apparently there were some concerns among the scouts about Blacky's lack of pace. But he's got other attributes. Like his strength over the ball and his ability to win the contested possession. To hold his feet and use the ball well with hand and foot on both sides of his body. His decision making. His football smarts. His insatiable appetite to compete and will power to match.

Black runs as quickly in the last 10 minutes of a game as he does in the first 10 minutes. So his lack of pure leg speed is a non-factor. He would have been a good marathon runner or a cyclist. Because he plays football the same way. He surges. He challenges his opponent. And just when the man given the unenviable task of trying to keep him in check might be starting to feel a little comfortable, he'll lift his work-rate. And he'll blow his opponent away.

In round two at the Gabba this year, a noted St Kilda tagger had the job on Blacky. Five minutes into the second half he cramped up. He just couldn't go with him. That's his modus operandi. Watch him. He'll grind his opponent into the ground. He'll test him mentally and physically. Contest after contest.

Remember the 2003 grand final against Collingwood? He had 39 possessions on the biggest stage of all, and was still running just as hard in the last 60 seconds. It was as good a big-occasion game as you'll see.

The two words that best describe Simon Black are humble and competitive. He is a totally unaffected champion. A level-headed, modest, polite, consistent and considerate 28-year-old from a fantastic family.

One day a few years ago he went to the children's hospital. A nurse was bemoaning the fact that they didn't have a PlayStation for the kids. So Blacky went home, got his own, and gave it to the hospital.

But there's another side of Blacky that only those on the inside really see. He's a fierce competitor. He's always been like that.

Even in his first year he was an annoying pest who was forever asking Craig Lambert and yours truly to do extra one-on-one stuff. It was bordering on harassment.

He was always looking for ways to improve himself because he had an unbelievable desire for success. If a teammate does 15 rounds of boxing, and he's next, he'll do 16. If a teammate does 20 repetitions in the gym eight times, he'll do nine. I loved training with him and trying to beat him. To keep up with him. He tested me in so many areas, and maybe I tested him in other areas. It's a great way to better yourself.

He's an out-and-out mozzie. Always buzzing around. Forgetting things. Having a chat and a laugh. He's always got as much time for the shy new recruit and the boot-studder as anyone else. Everyone is equal to him.

A share of the captaincy this year has taken him to another level. With more responsibility than just getting the ball 30 times a week he's become a real leader. Taking control. Talking to his teammates. Demanding more from them. Offering suggestions.

It makes him an even more valuable player than his extraordinary record commands. And he'll reach 300 games because he's always looking for a new challenge.

But he's not perfect — he's not the greatest driver, for example. One day I was walking out of the Gabba and I heard a voice yell out "hey Vossy!" I looked over just in time to see him run into the car in front of him.

Another day we were using the inferential machine together. That's the one where you stick pads all over the troubled area and you get this pulsating sensation. He had sore ribs and didn't think it was doing its job so he turned it up. And up. And up. Before realising it wasn't plugged in.

As soon as he plugged it in. Whammo! He nearly hit the roof. Didn't think to turn it down, did he? He forgot about his ribs pretty quickly. Not a great medical practitioner.

And he can be a little vague. One day in Perth we were doing an interview with Brad Hardie. Brad asked him a question and he went blank. No answer. He hadn't been listening. His mind was probably off riding the perfect wave somewhere. If you asked him his favourite moments, the time he went surfing with Kelly Slater would be among them.

Punctuality! That's not one of his great strengths either. If the club was buying him a 200th game present it'd be a good watch with a reminder zapper every five minutes.

But if you were a young midfielder starting out in AFL and could go to the shops and buy a football role model you'd find it hard to walk past the Simon Black section.

A good football club builds itself around good people like Blacky. And of all those I had the privilege to play alongside, he sits comfortably alongside all of them for the company I enjoyed and whose professionalism and performance I admired.