Blonde Hawthorn

It's traditional during bye week for AFL clubs to name their teams of the decade or century, ultimate premiership teams, halls of fame and the like. Such teams are announced with great fanfare and a whiff of controversy, always at Crown and always with a portrait by the same guy. Are there no other function rooms or artists in Melbourne?

The first of my representative teams comes with no dinner, no Steve Quartermain as MC, no official portrait; just a can of cheap bleach...it's the best team of blondes to play for Hawthorn.

Anita Loos’ 1925 novel "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes", later a film starring Marilyn Monroe, may have helped popularise the, perhaps spurious, notion that blondes are more desirable than brunettes, but something got lost in the translation at Hawthorn where it seems to mean that Gentlemen Prefer Being Blonde.


There's something about a bright clear day at the MCG where the sun highlights not just the gold stripes on our jumper and the fans' outfits, but picks out the highlights in the hair of a Hawthorn blonde. The Hawks have a long, proud tradition of blondes, possibly only rivalled by St.Kilda. From the golden haired backline of the mid 70s, via Dermie, Crawf and right through to today.


Much is made of the recent recruitment policy of left-footers, but in the mid 90s, it appeared that blonde hair was the basis of our recruitment policy. And if it didn’t come naturally, then the players simply shampooed with peroxide. 


The word "blond" is first known in in English in 1481 (14 + 8 + 1 = 23…spooky) and derives from Old French word “blund” or “blont”, meaning ‘a colour midway between golden and light chestnut’ – in other words a colour between brown and gold...a Hawthorn colour.


The colour itself is characterized by low levels of the dark pigment 'eumelanin', and while there are different blonde hues, platinum, sandy, strawberry etc, the predominant characteristic is a variant of yellow and it sits on the colour wheel between yellow and light brown. What to conclude other than it's a Hawthorn hue.


And here's the team...

Backs: Brian Douge    Ryan Schoenmakers   Andy Collins


Half Backs: Ian Bremner   Peter Knights   Bohdan Jaworski


Centre: Chris Whittman   Sam Mitchell   Kevin Ablett


Half Forward: Peter Curran   Dermott Brereton   Paul Hudson


Forward: Michael Osbourne   Gary Ablett Snr   Daniel Chick

Followers: Richard Walter   Peter Crimmins (c)   Shane Crawford (vc)

Interchange from: Russell Morris,  Rick Ladson,  Rayden Tallis,  Michael McCarthy,  Simon Crawshay    Matthew Robran, Justin Crawford 

Coach: Allan Jeans

Peter Crimmins - captain of the blondes

Crimmo might have begun it all - those of us who saw him play will instantly picture his little blonde bob bouncing up and down as he ran after the ball. There may have been Hawthorn blondes before him, but he set the new template. Surely giving Sam Mitchell Crimmo's famous no. 5 was based as much on Mitch's hair as it was on his style of play.


Crimmo is joined on the ball by Crawf, an obvious choice, and Richard Walter who gets first ruck ahead of Crawshay, though Crawshay was much funnier to watch, and one of our forgotten great No. 23's.



Gary Ablett Snr - well he's blonde, he played for Hawthorn and he was a reasonable full forward



Gary Ablett leads our forward line. Sure he didn't pay many games for Hawthorn, but he did play some and he did have blonde, if wispy, hair. And as it turned out, he was a pretty good full forward. So he's an obvious pick. We obviously didn't need him as no sooner did we let him go than we made eight of the next nine Grand Finals, but still, he would have been handy.

Dermott Brereton - blonde bombshell

Dermie is the centrepoint of the half-forward line and possibly sported the greatest permed blonde mullett known to human history. He is joined by Curran and Huddo, both great, both blonde, even if Huddo's wasn't entirely natural.

 

Daniel 'Hot blonde' Chick

"Chicky babe" - along with Rayden Tallis epitomised the surfie blonde look of the mid 90s.

Peter Knights is one of the great Hawthorn blondes, possibly the greatest 'natural' blonde player of all time: natural in talent and hue. He formed the centrepoint of the great blonde backline of the 70s with Douge,  Bremner, Jaworski and de Wolde (who was sort of blonde) - most of whom made it into the team above.


Andy Collins is an obvious addition from our great 80-90s lineup and Ryan 'The Cobbler' Schoenmakers gets in because we needed a tall, blonde backman, and he might just turn out to be one of our greats...based on the style and grace depicted below, there's no doubt he will.

Round 12 - Hawthorn v Brisbane

MCG, Sunday 17 June 2012

Hawthorn…Harbingers of Truth

The Big Questions

With the Hawks not scheduled to play until Sunday, I was afforded a nice lie in on Saturday, until that is, I was awoken by an untimely knock on the door. My son answered and I heard an unfamiliar voice that, happily, didn’t insist on waking me, but did indicate it would leave a pamphlet for me to read at my convenience. It was the Jehovah’s Witnesses, or “God botherers” as my Grandma used to call them. I rolled over and went back to sleep and didn’t give them another thought until Monday after our comfortable, even commanding victory over the Lions, when I glanced over the pamphlet they'd left.

“Would You Like to Know the Truth?” is the question it poses in large Times New Roman, and goes on to list “some of the most important questions that humans have ever asked”: 

Does God really care about us?

Will war and suffering ever end?

What happens to us when we die?

Is there any hope for the dead?

How can I pray and be heard by God?

How can I find happiness in life?

To which you might also add the even bigger question:  “Will Buddy kick the ton this year?”


After a bag of five on the weekend, he’s now on 43 and it’s suddenly looking possible. In reviewing the match the media predictably ran with the “Buddy bags 5 as Hawks win” line, and while he was good, his five goals were more or less incidental to the outcome, with only two of these coming when the match was in dispute. His three goals in the final quarter all had the requisite flair and panache, but will play a bigger part in determining the Coleman medal than they did the outcome of this match.


At the beginning of the season a friend talked up the chance of the double ton for Buddy, by which I assumed he meant 200 goals, which I thought fanciful, even by the inexact standard that applies to pre-season predictions. I see now, however, that he meant 100 goals and 100 behinds. What an achievement that would be! He’s now on 43.45 and starting to find more of the ball, so it looms as a possibility. Has it ever been done? I’m not sure, but not since his 113.88 in 2008 or Peter Sumich’s 94.78 in 1991 has this feat seemed so likely.


While on Buddy’s goals, another friend recently considered what size haul of goals actually constitutes a ‘bag’. We settled on 5. Less than that can’t really be called a bag; 4 being more of a backpack’s worth, 3 a valise and 2 a satchel or Crumpler. Above 5, 6 or 7 might perhaps be carry-on and 8-10 a suitcase. In which case is 13 a skip? Either way, he officially had a ‘bag’ on Sunday.


How to tame lions


If you’re like me you have certain preconceived ideas about how particular games will pan out. A game against Collinwood for instance is likely to be close and involve some heated byplay with opposition supporters; a Geelong game, well, we know all too well what to expect in a game against Geelong, and an Essendon game, well that usually ends with charges being laid, but that’s another story.


Facing Brisbane at the G on a cold, wet afternoon, however, is the sort of game you go to hoping the Hawks will establish a nice early ascendency and gradually build a sizeable lead, eventually winning by 8 or 9 goals with perhaps 5 or 6 for Buddy, one from the boundary for Cyril, no injuries, no reports, not much of a queue at the Bullring bar, no anxiety about the result after half-time and sufficient leisure to fantasise about what Jaimee Rogers might look like in a Hawks clash strip.


And while the match more or less turned out that way (except it was The Poo who kicked a fabulous boundary line goal in the first quarter and Jaimee Rogers was replaced in the fantasy by that cute goal umpire with the dimple signalling full points), it was mildly disconcerting in the first quarter when Hawthorn’s numerous attacks all resulted in points while Brisbane’s sporadic and occasional forays forward all ended in goals, and good goals too. Jonathan Brown bagging a couple of early goals is always worrying, even more so than the rain which saw us having to relocate and venture under cover.


Things improved from the second quarter. Even though Hawthorn kicked 4.6 in the second, as they had in the first, and 4.7 in the third quarter, we virtually shut down the Lions completely, allowing them to score just 2.1 over the same period. The game seemed to be played exclusively in Hawthorn’s forward half which at least took Brown out of the game. By three quarter time we’d established a convincing 41 point lead, mainly through the agency of Burgoyne who was not only getting the ball but dispensing it with dash and finesse, even kicking a couple. Savage, Sewell and Suckling were also driving us forward while Gibson held firm down back, helping The Cobbler deal with Big Jonathan Brown and combining with Birchall to bring the ball out of defence.


The final quarter brought more of the same, except that we started to kick straight, adding 7.2, including Buddy’s hat-trick, to Brisbane just 3.2. Brisbane showed energy and endeavour, but simply couldn’t get the ball off Hawthorn’s midfield and half back line. Adcock played well, as did Zorko, who may have a name more suited to an evildoer in a kids cartoon, but kicked 3 goals in an impressive performance.


There’s an extra kick of satisfaction if the Hawks can put on a bit of a surge in the final quarter and slot a few specials to lengthen the lead, so the late goal glut added a warm glow to the trip home on a gloomy winter’s afternoon. The glow of truth perhaps, so to get back to those questions posed by the Jehovah’s Witness pamphlet:

Does God really care about us?  Well clearly he/she does, because Buddy wears the brown ‘n gold.

Will war and suffering ever end?  Not while Collingwood and Essendon exist.

What happens to us when we die?  Hawk fans go to heaven or Glenferrie, while others wallow in a sort of Victoria Park outer.

Is there any hope for the dead?  With Buddy and Cyril up forward, there's always hope.

How can I pray and be heard by God?  You simply don the ceremonial brown and gold vestments, or scarf, and belt out the club song.

How can I find happiness in life? Listen to Jaimee Rogers read out the goalkickers or watch the third quarter of the 08 Grand Final.

Final scores: Hawthorn 19  21  135 d Brisbane 11  4  70

Buddy goal tally: 5 = total 43

Buddy points tally: 1 = total 45

What we liked - no crowds, no queues, climbing above Essendon on the ladder, even if we have played one more game.

What we didn't like - in the final quarter Buddy takes a mark 50 out on the Olympic Stand flank. Just as he lines up a man trots down the aisle and stops directly in my line of vision, blocking my view of the archetypal Buddy goal. I saw Buddy line up. I saw the crowd go up, but missed the kick and the ball in flight. People speak of Will Minson's insensitivity for his sledge about Danyle Pearce's mother, but what about aisle etiquette? Does it mean nothing anymore?


Next week: The Hawks may have a bye but I don't. I'll be taking advantage of the break to post my Handsome Hawthorn team - the best looking players to ever pull on the brown and gold verticals; my Hideous Hawthorn team - the least handsome players to ever don the hooped hoisery; and my anti-ultimate premiership team - a team of players who through luck and timing had the good fortune to play alongside Hudson, Matthews, Brereton, Dunstall, Franklin et al, but who otherwise would not have played in a premiership.

Round 11 Port Adelaide v Hawthorn

AAMI Stadium, Adelaide, Sunday 10 June 2012

 

Hip Hip…it’s Hawthorn

Conditions were gloomy and from the outset we were outmanoeuvred and regularly caught out of position, exposing a poor and undermanned defence. We showed very little guile or power in attack, shooting with sub-par accuracy and displaying an absence of tactical ingenuity or resolve. A slaughter was on the cards and so it proved with scores heavily weighted to the smaller, faster and fitter unit. Heads bowed, we slunk from the arena of battle. 

Happily this description is not of Hawthorn’s performance against Port, but of the Dads’ performance against a crack unit of children in a birthday battle of laser skirmish earlier in the day. It being my birthday my two sons took over the itinerary and at a time when I should have been relaxing under the gentle kneading and calming ministrations of a (Thai) masseuse’s knowing palms, I was instead under siege in a mock war zone being trapped and zapped by a marauding horde of children. I just hoped that Port’s defence would prove to be as fractured and feeble as my own and that their attack would mirror my inept and inaccurate efforts.


When I was young the first things I’d check when the footy fixture was released was who the Hawks played first, when we played Collingwood and who we played on or nearest my birthday. For me it was particularly important that we win my birthday match. And matches held on my actual birthday came weighted with even greater significance. The first Hawthorn draw I ever saw was against North Melbourne on my 21st birthday in 1985. This week’s match against Port Adelaide therefore took on additional import for me as it was being played on the anniversary of the day I rode the bumps with a grin and emerged into the world.  


When devising the AFL fixture the committee or computer that cobbles it together always throws up some odd combinations. Once the various set-in-stone games are programmed in – the ones that only ever involve Collingwood, Carlton, Essendon or Richmond, and, bizarrely enough on the Queen’s birthday weekend, Melbourne (spare a thought for Collingwood fans; they never get to plan long weekends away, as their team is always playing a stand alone match on the public holiday; even on New Year’s Eve 1999 they were scheduled to play a game) – the rest of the teams are thrown the remaining timeslot morsels.


And this weekend is a perfect example of the AFL’s scheduling bypass. With a long weekend and one extra day for footy courtesy of Her Majesty’s nominal birthday and our anachronistic system of government, the AFL slap a bye in place and we get less football over three days than we normally get over two. You’d think then that with only six matches to be played across three nights and three days that every match would be awarded a convenient prime or semi-prime timeslot. How then does the Port v Hawthorn game – the only match to be played on the Sunday – get scheduled at twilight? In the time/location matrix, it’s the equivalent of playing in Canberra on a Wednesday.  ‘When can’t you make it?’ seemed to be the overriding consideration when scheduling this game, and then they scratch their heads over Port’s poor crowds.


Not that I was ever going to get there, but even for casual viewing it is hardly ideal. What would have been wrong with Sunday afternoon at say, 2.10 pm?  In any case, I was taking in the match via the radio. With only one match on I at least had my choice of radio stations. I plumped for Triple M whose Adelaide’s crew includes Dale, or is it Mark, or someone Lewis anyway, Warren Tredrea (Tredders), Mark Ricciuto (Roo) and Rhett Biglands (Bigs), and possibly one or two others – there always seems to be a throng in the Triple M box. But they seemed amiable enough and fairly subdued by comparison to the raucous Melbourne team of Lyon, Spud, Brayshaw and the twenty or thirty others that seem to crowd into the box. Doubts about their credibility emerge, however, when one of them comments favourably on Hawthorn's white clash strip and how good it looks. Now such a top might pass as haute couture in Adelaide, but it’s hardly as stylish as the brown and gold verticals. And why are we wearing our clash strip against Port Adelaide?  Which type of hallucinogen do you need to ingest to confuse brown and gold vertical stripes with a white and teal yolk over black?


Listening on the radio comes with all its usual problems of not quite knowing where the ball is – just when you think your team is surging forward, you find out they’re actually paddling it through for a rushed behind at the other end. The upside of this is that when you believe The Rough to be gathering possession on the half back line, you suddenly learn he’s snapping a spectacular goal from the pocket.


The other problem with radio is being unaware which way we’re kicking. I like to picture the action in my mind and I find it quite disconcerting if I can’t be certain which direction we’re heading (a problem I also experience in my fantasies about Jaimee Rogers). The commentary team threw about phrases like the ‘southern end’ or the ‘golf course end’, but this is only helpful if you know Adelaide or have been to the ground – something my Adelaide friends assure me I never want to do.


Which ever way we are going we get there quickly, largely through Sewell and Hale whose names are being called fairly regularly. We slam on seven first quarter goals, including a couple to Breust, one to Buddy, even one for Gunston, and a nice soccer goal from The Rough, heralding the beginning of Euro 2012. As the Hawks continue to win the clearances, Ricciuto wonders aloud at the wisdom of Primus’ decision to tag Clinton Young rather than Sam Mitchell. It does seem odd, and while Young is a good player, I don’t recall the prefix ‘matchwinner’ being applied to him too often, or at least not as often as it's bestowed on Mitchell.


The scoring slows in the second quarter as the evening dew sets in (that’s ‘dew’ as in small drops of atmospheric vapour, not Stuart Dew, portly premiership hero of both teams), which makes it less likely that Port will get back into the match. It also makes it less likely that we’ll beat the record margin of 165 points we set last time these sides met in Round 21 last year.  Buddy tries for it anyway, providing the highlight of the term by dodging and weaving to squeeze past Carlile and slot one from 50. The other highlight of the quarter is Ricciuto revealing that Redden’s nickname is ‘Sex Panther’. I don’t know what you have to do to earn such a nickname, and it’s possible I wouldn’t even survive such encounters, but I’d be willing to give it a go. 

By the time the match resumes for the second half, I have impromptu guests and my listening is necessarily sketchy.  I can tell that we continue to draw away after another snap from The Rough and a couple more from Franklin. Brad Hill kicks a couple in the final quarter but I miss what becomes the talking point the match – Buddy’s report for a sling tackle. Who gets reported by an umpire nowadays? Well, only Buddy of course.  Is it that everything he does is somehow magnified, or is it that umpires resent that fact that people come to watch him play the game rather than watch them officiate it? And their only retaliation is free kicks, 50s and reports. Having seen the tackle I can only assume it’s the latter. Far from rough conduct, GBH, attempted manslaughter or whatever outlandish charge they laid, Buddy practically nursed the Port player to the ground – if he’d had a pillow handy he would have slipped it under his head and then fed him some grapes. Anyway, crisis averted and justice scores its second big victory of the week, with Buddy cleared to play against the Lions in the same week Lindy Chamberlain is finally cleared of any involvement with Azaria's tragic death.

In the end it was a good win, despite allowing Port a few late consolation goals to cramp the margin.  Any win in Adelaide is a good one for Hawthorn. And it certainly made for a good birthday present, although the Kindle pre-loaded with Martin Amis’ new novel was also a welcome gift and will provide much needed distraction when we head into the bye in a couple of weeks.  

Final scores: Hawthorn 16 12 108 d Port Adelaide 9 8 62

Buddy goal tally: 4 = total, 38

Buddy behind tally: 4 = total 44

What we loved: Brad Hill and Gunston slotting some goals; Clinton Young can't do it all. 

Round 10 - Hawthorn v North Melbourne

Saturday 2 June 2012 at Aurora Stadium, Launceston

Fifty Shades of Brown and Gold…Hawthorn porn

Warning: Adult content. Strong sex scenes.

First he secured my right ankle to the bed post by tying a knot in his 2012 year membership scarf. Bringing my left leg under my back he bound it to my right wrist. My left wrist he secured to the bed post with his 08 membership scarf, and then stuffed my membership bandana into my mouth. Thus manacled, I was helpless against his wishes, just the way I liked it. His long, black boots beat out a slow rhythmic tattoo as he strode the floorboards next to the bed. With each heavy footfall he was swinging his membership lanyard which he then brought down with a crisp, fierce swish against my bare thigh. “More master” I begged as the welt began to expand and sting.



“Call me Buddy!” he demanded gruffly, whipping me with the lanyard once more to make his point. Wearing the traditional striped home jumper he climbed on the bed and sat astride me, facing away from me so that I could see the big 23 on his back. I moaned with pleasure as he reached out to caress me with his left hand, while with his right he took up the remote control and flicked on the TV. The vision onscreen showed a mass of writhing, sweaty bodies, clambering over each other, touching, rubbing. Legs, arms, lips and firm arses in tight shorts bucked and heaved. It was the third quarter of the 08 Grand Final and Stewie Dew was just getting the ball off Buddy to slot one between the labia-like goal posts…”Oooh, ugh…”  I moaned.


Thus we enter the dark, mysterious world of BDSM, or ‘Buddy Sado-Masochism,’ as described in the number one best seller, ‘Fifty Shades of Brown and Gold’ where our heroine, Aurora Mulgrave, relates the details of her erotic submission to the enigmatic and powerful billionaire, Glen Ferrie, whose predilections run to the lewd extremes of brown and gold devotion. Dressing up, whips, scarf bondage, and yes, there’s a shockingly graphic shower scene.

------------------------------------------

Foreplay


With the Harry Potter books, J.K. Rowling is credited with getting children to read (have you noticed that Harry Potter wears a Hawthorn scarf?), but an equally impressive feat is that of E.L. James who has gotten lapsed adult readers back into books with her erotic trilogy, beginning with ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’, which has sold over 10 million copies worldwide and is credited with fuelling the rise of e-Book. What is it with these women known by their initials - first there was J. K Austen and E.L. Bronte, and now these two?  



‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ is a first person narrative told by Anastasia Steele about her relationship with billionaire magnate, Christian Grey, whose sexual tastes run to the extremes of sado-masochism. The book is noted for its explicit depiction of sex in general and BDSM practices in particular. And readers are responding to these explicit scenes with the sort of excitement and conspicuous arousal displayed by Hawks fans witnessing Buddy Franklin’s performance against North Melbourne on Saturday. North defenders were simply submissives to Buddy’s dominance, and if they weren’t tied up in knots literally, they certainly were figuratively.  It was Hawthorn porn and I'm addicted.



Hawthorn porn


My viewing of the match was disjointed owing to the demands of a 10 year old’s birthday outing. For the first quarter I was at the Linc, and unlike my previous visit, the Hawks were on the big screen this time. We began ferociously, tackling with real intensity, and it was Lewis’ desperation that got the ball to The Poo for our first. A second followed, this time to Lewis, and it was looking like we were set for a big day. Then North kicked four unanswered goals, Buddy couldn’t get near it and I was back to being the anxious wreck of the previous week. North is one of our bogey teams and have an unpleasant knack of beating us, so I was just beginning to steel myself for some anxious viewing, when Isaac Smith took the ball on half back…


There was only 50 seconds on the clock and we were down by nearly two goals when Smith took off. But it was in that 50 seconds that Hawthorn swung the game. Smith went for a run and got the ball to Young who slotted a nice long goal from outside 50. From the bounce, Mitchell got it out to Cyril who kicked another long goal from outside 50 and suddenly we were a point in front. Then from the next bounce the ball went straight to Buddy who won the marking duel about 40 out. How was his kicking today? What were we in for? The siren went as he walked in to kick and although Foxtel tried to trick us with a weird camera angle, the ball went sailing through the middle. Buddy was back and in less than a minute we’d turned a two goal deficit into a one goal lead.


I had to leave the Linc early in the second quarter to drive to the cinema, pick up children and ferry them home for part two of the party. By the time I got to the car and found the match on Triple M, Buddy was running in to kick his fourth, and on my short drive to the cinema he kicked his fifth and six. Lookin' good at half time with a six goal lead and growing.


Buddy snagged his seventh and eighth as I made my way back to the Linc and as the Hawks continued to stretch the lead, it was clear that Buddy’s goal tally was the only remaining point of interest in the match. As I pulled up, a mother and two kids were walking past and both boys were carrying a brand new Buddy ball in a box. Whatever technical flaw existed had obviously been corrected and there would be no need for the product recall. I reassured the woman that she'd made a sound purchase as the man himself had just kicked his eighth.


The crowd in the Linc had swelled while I’d been gone and Buddy had even diverted the attention of the seasoned punters who were watching the racing on a separate screen. He was marking strongly and he had his his left-to-right going beautifully again. A roar went up as he marked to kick his ninth. Another roar as he marked to line up for his tenth and his biggest tally ever. A hush fell over the bar. He walked in, spun the ball in his grip, went out on his arc….and missed. But he took another mark a minute later and duly slotted it.  He’d kicked 10 and it wasn’t yet three-quarter time! Considering he kicked his first on the quarter-time siren, he’d effectively kicked 10 in two quarters. 


After another long set shot sailed through early in the final quarter, there was a bit of a lull, broken by a beautiful running goal by Cyril on the boundary to take the margin beyond 100 points. It was a weird game to watch, because although the team was playing extremely well, everyone watching was impatient for the ball to get down to Buddy, just to see what he could do. Then the Hawks began arsing about with it a bit, chipping it here and there, backwards and sideways as if they had to eat up the clock. Then gripped by a sudden urgency, they got it forward and Buddy took another mark. With only a minute left on the clock he had a chance to make it 12, but his kick was smothered by the man on the mark and the ball dribbled out of bounds. Well, I was thinking, 11 goals, that’s still pretty good. Then from the ball-in Lewis crammed in a pack handballed over his head to an already sprinting Buddy who kept running and sent it through post high from 45 metres out on the boundary. The crowd in the bar were laughing and applauding and barely had I time to text superlatives to a friend when, with 5 seconds to go, he dropped a mark, recovered, gathered and swung round to kick number 13 on the final siren – the money shot.


The bar was in uproar. There was a lot of Buddy love in the room, and I don’t mind admitting my eyes grew a little moist as his 13th sailed through. 


Happy ending

It was truly amazing to watch. Complete Hawthorn dominance with Buddy putting on a performance for the ages. None of those dinky grubber attempts, no surging to the half-back line to get possession – just fast leads, strong marks and soaring kicks. Hawthorn fans have been anticipating this sort of performance for years. "He'll kick 12 one day" we said, and now, just when you thought his powers might be waning, he has.


There were a number of great Hawk players on the day: Mitchell, Lewis, Sewell, Birch, the Cobbler and of course the Rough, but the day belonged to Buddy. What a star - there’s a reason he wears the 23. And the fact that both Carlton and Essendon proceeded to lose later that evening added a nice satisfying touch; a happy ending if you like.


In bed with 'Brown and Gold'


A few celebratory beers later and I was tucked up in bed with my e-reader, losing myself in the erotically charged world of Aurora Mulgrave and Glen Ferrie… I was seated on a hard wooden bench with the phone to my ear. Glen was shouting at me; issuing commands. “Get in and under”, he said, pushing me down. “Go harder” he ordered. “Push forward.” I did.


Back on my feet, I was draped in only in a large triangular premiership flag that I wore like a toga. He grasped the corner of the flag between his fingers and spun me around. I grew dizzy as the flag unspooled and fell at my feet, leaving me standing naked before him, just a big 23 tattooed on my back…


Final scores: Hawthorn 27.12.174 d North Melbourne 9.5.59

Buddy goal tally: 13 = total, 34

Buddy behind tally: 4 = total, 40


What we like: Buddy back leading the Coleman medal. Bradley Hill in for his second match, showed speed, aility and the right instinct, that is, look up and kick it to Buddy.