Round 5 - Hawthorn v North Melbourne

MCG, Saturday 28 April 2013

The Twilight Saga

It’s a strange, eerie time, twilight; no longer daytime but not quite night, not yet dark but no longer light. It’s a time when petals close and dew descends (not Stewart Dew either), the cold moon rises and the day’s warmth ends, when wild birds squawk and the undead walk. It’s an inbetween time, an interval that opens a crack in the continuum, a crack through which evil sprites slip to weave their spells, and mystical spirits transform men into beasts, and vampires turn veins into deep spring wells.

Whatever otherworldly events might hold sway at twilight, it's a timeslot that doesn’t suit Hawthorn. Weird things happen at this hour, unexplained phenomena occur; Max Bailey becomes our most dangerous crumbing forward, snagging three early goals,  Mitchell can’t get hold of the ball in the middle, Guerra repeatedly kicks on the full, Hodge seems to vanish, one of Breust’s kicks is ‘touched’ retrospectively, Buddy drops chest marks, spills handballs and misses easy shots (okay, so not all that weird).

Sure we still won, but it was far from convincing and if not for Cyril, it might not have been a win at all. And even then, some evil twilight hex tore his hamstring and laid him low before the end.

You’ll recall that last year’s Preliminary Final against Adelaide – another game when we struggled to assert our natural superiority and barely fell over the line – was also played at twilight. Can you spot the pattern?

But perhaps our inability at this particular hour of the day has less to do with the mystical nature of twilight, the moon rising and vampires stalking the earth, than it does with more mundane matters like ‘bodyclock’ adjustment.

Is it perhaps that the game starts at the time it really should be ending? Are the players’ bodies winding down naturally when we need them to be warming up? Is it that it’s too late for an afternoon match and too early for a night match, leaving the players in a state of disequilibrium? I know I’m usually enjoying a quiet alcohol fuelled snooze at about that time on a Sunday, so I can’t blame the players if they’re less than fully alert.

Blood sucking vampires

The umpires take the field for
Sunday's twilight match
- photo: 2all.co.il

I can’t say I’m familiar with the synopsis of the Twilight series, having never read the books or watched the films. I do know, however, that the plot revolves around a trio of ‘old school’ blood sucking vampires, James, Victoria and Laurent, who come to town and lay waste to the community.

A trio of blood sucking vampires…hmm, sounds familiar…perhaps something like Luke Farmer, Heath Ryan and Matt Stevick, the trio of field umpires officiating on Sunday evening who seemed determined to suck the life out of the match. They certainly seemed to be of some otherworldly genus.

One notable factor in the Hawks’ victory this week was that according to all the key statistical data, North Melbourne was by far the superior team, winning the inside 50 count 63 to 47, contested possessions 149 to 126, hit-outs 47 to 26, kicks 216 to 204 and handballs 134 to 126.

These figures alone would normally equate to a comfortable North victory, but another statistic revealed an even greater discrepancy between the two sides; free kicks. The free kick count was 30 to 15 in favour of North – that’s double the number of free kicks. Double! This includes 10 in the final quarter alone, including a passage of four free kicks that took the ball from Hawthorn’s forward line to North Melbourne’s without any other type of intervening disposal, culminating in Lindsay ‘Melissa Wu’ Thomas kicking his final goal – his second at least from a free kick. It’s great that Lindsay has fixed his kicking from last season, now we just need the umpires to improve in equal measure and get better at spotting some of his blatant staging.

Despite these evil portents, good ultimately prevailed. And just as Edward and Bella thwarted James (Brayshaw?) and his evil coven in Twilight, Hawthorn thwarted North, winning by 3 points.

The third thing

Hawk fans look away - photo: Herald Sun

Readers of this blog may be aware that a few weeks ago I had a hernia operation (stop going on about it I hear you say).  This week (woe is me) I suffered terrible tooth pain which resulted in a trip to the dentist and the commencement of a root canal procedure.

The experience of lying back in the dentist chair undergoing emergency root canal surgery with its drilling and scraping, its grating and grinding, was not unlike watching Hawthorn struggling to get the ball forward and maintain possession, with its fumbling and bungling, its botching and blundering. It was excruciating - the football that is. At least the dentist administers an anaesthetic.

As we know, catastrophes and ill luck run in threes, so after the hernia and the root canal, I’ve been waiting for the third curse to strike, wondering what diabolical form it might take. And then it happened; with the Hawks trailing by two points, Gunston put the ball out in front of Cyril who was one-out with Atley on the wing, and as Cyril set off in pursuit of the ball his hamstring tore just as he got his boot to it. There it was; the third thing. Sure, it didn’t happen to me, but this was even worse, it happened to Cyril.

With our indifferent form and Cyril’s hamstring injury, Hawthorn’s Twilight saga certainly belongs in the same horror genre as its literary equivalent. And just like the books, there’s a series of sequels, as we play Adelaide at the same cursed time next week.


Final scores: Hawthorn 14 15 99  d  North Melbourne 13 18 96


What we learned: Brian Lake is going to be good for us. He played a great game in his Hawthorn debut. He spoiled marks and maintained his composure with the ball, working well with Gibbo, Goo and Birch. North’s statistical dominance, particularly in the inside 50 count, actually highlights how well our defence played.

Majak Daw is going to be a champ. He’s an exciting player and again he showed great promise – his first quarter tackle on Burgoyne, while unwelcome, was spectacular. And whereas last week he took a soaring high mark, this week he took an equally distinctive grab, though at the opposite end of the marking spectrum, when he clearly dropped it yet was paid anyway.


What we already new: Without Cyril we’re the walking undead.

Round 4 - Hawthorn v Fremantle

Aurora Stadium, Launceston. Saturday 20 April 2013


The overlap of the Hawthorn Fremantle match with the Richmond Collingwood match set up possible confrontations in pubs showing Fox Sports. Not wanting to become involved in disputes with publicans and patrons about which match should be shown on their big screen, and fearing I’d be outnumbered and outferaled, I arranged to watch the game with other like-minded Hawks fans at my friend Chan-Tha’s.

Sure Channel 7 was showing the match on delay, but who can watch second quarter action unfolding in a time warp when a frantic final term might be underway? So it was off to Chan-Tha’s. And besides, her TV is so big the players are actually larger than life.

Of course this necessitated driving from Essendon to Richmond, through several iterations of road works and detours, plus the inevitable football traffic converging on the MCG. So the trip took 1.5 hours, roughly twice what it would have taken to fly to Launceston to watch the game in person. As a result I ended up listening to the first quarter on SEN in the car.

Thanks to the miracle of Optus TV, however, I was able to relive the first quarter action later. And it was worth doing so. In the opening seven minutes the Hawks didn’t manage a single entry inside 50, but in the ensuing five minutes, thanks largely to Cyril Rioli, we’d got it in there five times and scored 4.1, all of which happened while I was stuck on a small stretch of Hoddle Street.

Hoddle Street: where all the first quarter action happened

Freezing out Freo

The great thing about playing Fremantle in Launceston is that it takes the Dockers an entire quarter to thaw out – a fact highlighted by Tom Harley on Channel 7 when he informed viewers that in each of their past three visits to Launceston, Fremantle have failed to kick a goal in the first quarter. So Aurora is not so much a fortress for us, but a sort of ice cave that immobilises unwitting teams from balmier climes, just like Mr Freeze’s hideouts in Batman.

One of Fremantle’s behinds came from a free kick to their ruckman, Griffin, after a ruck infringement against David Hale. It was hard to spot the infringement, but in explaining the reason to Hale, the umpire seemed to say that it was because Hale was “looking at” the Fremantle ruckman. Now my knowledge of the finer points of the rules is probably scratchy, but I was previously unaware you could be penalised for “looking at” your opponent. Really, a decision like that deserved a goal.

The Members stand at Aurora 

Life of Poo 

The umpires weren’t the only ones making strange decisions (and I should point out here – I have no argument with the umpires this season. If anything Hawthorn is getting a better deal than ever before – just ask the Collingwood supporters. Keep up the good work boys, and Chelsea!) Far stranger was Buddy’s decision when running into an open goal – about 10 metres out - to handball over to The Poo in the goal square where he was duly mown down by Fyffe and the ball bobbled across the line for a point.

Moments later, The Poo took a great mark on the line and attempted a banana, which flew across the face of goal and snuck in for another behind. So in the space of two minutes, The Poo had two shots at goal from an aggregate distance of about 5 metres, and scored two points.

Fortunately Buddy reassessed his priorities and the next time he gathered possession, just outside 50, he bombed it through.

Life of Schoe

More disturbing was Schoenmakers going down with a season ending knee injury.  To give him his full name, the ‘much maligned Schoenmakers’ was playing a good game when he buckled his knee in a routine contest.  Not since Zac Dawson has someone copped so much criticism for being outmarked by an opponent a foot taller, but Schoenmakers does a pretty good job each week and has been playing well this year.

His injury is a particular shame at this point when he’s got his hair to sit with just the right sort of jaunty foppishness that could see him cast in Brideshead Revisitied.

Schoenmakers’ absence was just one reason why Fremantle was getting back into the game. Indeed, after establishing a 30 point lead by quarter time, the margin barely strayed from that figure, hovering somewhere between 24 and 36 points for much of the game.

With the state of the game in a sort of stasis, the casual viewer had more time to focus on the peripheral action, such as who is the expressionless girl in the Hawthorn box with Clarko? Is Ross Lyon in the box by himself, and what is he muttering to himself, and just what are Basil Zempilas and Hamish McLachlan going on about?

Burgoyne fetishists 

I know this is Channel 7’s C team, with the exception of Tom Harley who actually knows what he is talking about, but some of the commentary was insightful for all the wrong reasons.

Show us ya socks!

After Shaun Burgoyne’s second goal, Tom Harley and Craig Bolton inventoried some of his many qualities as a footballer, such as his work as a midfielder and finishing, to which Basil Zempilas added, “An immaculate looking footballer, isn’t he Burgoyne; he wears those socks so high.” Now, do I detect a wee tinge of regret from an ankle fetishist, or is it just that Basil has an eye for well-worn hosiery? Imagine how impressed he’d be if he saw Burgoyne in fishnets or a matching bra and briefs set.

Continuing on the Burgoyne theme (and the reason they were obsessing with Burgoyne I might add is that along with Birchall, he was playing a fantastic game), Hamish added, “Very difficult name to say fast repetitively, Shaun Burgoyne. Say it five times really quick.”

Firstly, the degree of difficulty seems relatively low to me, compared to saying, for example, Basil Zempilis Basil Zempilis Basil Zempilis Basil Zempilis Basil Zempilis. Or even Hamish McLachlan Hamish McLachlan Hamish McLachlan Hamish McLachlan Hamish McLachlan. And secondly, I’m puzzled at the circumstances whereby someone might be compelled to say ‘Shaun Burgoyne’ five times in quick succession…unless you’re dashing past him on the wing calling for the ball of course, and it’s my guess that neither Basil or Hamish will ever be in that position.

Both commentators also seemed mightily impressed by the coincidence of two brothers, Stephen and Bradley Hill, playing for opposing teams, despite this phenomenon being relatively commonplace in the era of the draft – the Selwoods, the Reids, the Tucks, the Reiwoldts (ok they’re cousins, but you get the point).

And it’s not even new; after leaving Hawthorn, Kelvin Matthews played for Geelong against his brother Leigh in the 70s. Hamish went on to say, “The Hill brothers, sounds like you’re describing a winery in the Barossa Valley”. Clearly the cold and a fairly mundane match were beginning to get to Hamish by this point and he was yearning to quaff a soft, buttery Shiraz on the flight home. But even so, I would have thought that with two Western Australians under discussion, perhaps Margaret River might have been a better vintner's  reference?

Show Basil a map of Tassie

And I shouldn’t overlook Basil’s opening gambit at the beginning of the telecast, “Welcome to beautiful Hobart”. So beautiful it looks like Launceston. He tried to make up for it by saying ‘Launceston’ incessantly for a few minutes afterwards, just to prove he knew where he was, but it was too late by then – he’d put his big Western Australian hoof in it by then. He may or may not realise the ferocity of the north south rivalry in Tasmania, but it’s a bit like a touring rock band playing in Melbourne and saying “Hello Sydney!” Someone really needs to show Basil a map of Tassie.

Launceston is at the top, Basil

Bend it like Crowley

The friendly and well intentioned, if somewhat ignorant prattle of these two (again I excuse Tom Harley), was nearly enough to distract viewers from the slightly alarming development that Fremantle closed the lead to a mere 17 points with 13 minutes still to play.  Cue Buddy – a nice mark and goal.

Then the highlight of the match, and the only snippet likely to figure in footage shown on the ‘round by round’ segment on Brownlow night; Hodge, uncharacteristically indecisive, was caught by Ballantyne in the pocket, the ball spilled and Ballantyne lying on the ground got a neat handball to Crowley who was standing in the centre of the goals, pretty much on the goal line – at most he was 20 centimetres out. Crowley raised his boot to volley it through from mid-air, but somehow managed to hook it at such a severe right angle that it hit the post! Perhaps he should have headed it.

Heartened by this degree of incompetence, Hawthorn slammed on three quick goals: two to Roughead and one to Breust to close out the match by 42 points – coincidentally, the answer to the ‘meaning of Life’ in Douglas Adams’ trilogy The Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, proving that even in a seemingly innocuous match, Hawthorn operates on a level of cosmic significance.


Final scores: Hawthorn 18 10 118  d  Fremantle 11 10 76


What we learned - Basil Zempalis is a leg man who likes his footballers neatly turned out.


What we already knew - Avoid Hoddle Street when there's a big game at the G. Actually, just avoid Hoddle Street.

Round 3 - Collingwood v Hawthorn

MCG, Sunday 14 April 2012

This is what you want … this is what you get

“This is what you want…this is what you get” (The Order of Death, 1984)

John Lydon: "Kick it to Buddy"

The great John Lydon, aka Johnny Rotten, took the stage in Melbourne on Thursday night with his post-Pistols band, Public Image Ltd, and although they didn’t play the song in which the above refrain is repeatedly chanted, it nonetheless sums up how Hawks fans viewed the result. We wanted a big 10 goal thrashing of Collingwood, and that’s exactly what we got.

OK, some of us wanted a 20 goal thrashing, but that was about as likely as Johnny playing the role of demure, courteous guest on prime time Australian television.  To demand a 20 goal thrashing would be to display the sort of petulance with which Johnny endeared himself to the Australian public. Still, just like Johnny’s rant, it would have been fun.

“May the road rise with you” (Rise, 1986) – dedicated to David O’Halloran

PiL did, however, perform a powerful rendition of their 1986 hit ‘Rise’. Written in support of Nelson Mandela, the song features a soaring chorus in which Johnny sings, “May the road rise with you”, a sentiment which we can also bestow on former Hawk, David O’Halloran, who sadly passed away during the week.

O’Halloran, nicknamed ‘Rubber’, presumably for his bandy legs, but quite possibly for other reasons, wore number 8, played 160 games for Hawthorn, including two premierships – 1976 and 1983 – and was the prototype for the long-kicking, left-foot half back flanker that is now synonymous with Hawthorn.

R.I.P. Rubber - an eternal Hawthorn champion.

“Sipping champagne…football on Sunday” (The Suit, 1979)

Linking John Lydon to a Hawthorn Collingwood match may seem to be drawing a longish bow, but I would counter that a close reading of his lyrics suggests an affinity with this fixture. In the same song, ‘Rise’, he sings “I could be black, I could be white”, an oblique reference perhaps to his famously woeful dental hygiene, (as in, my teeth are so bad I could be a Collingwood supporter). One of the tracks he performed from his latest album is called ‘Out of the Woods’ – clearly a song of redemption, while his vocal for Leftfield’s ‘Open Up’, with which he concluded his set on Thursday night features an uplifting refrain that sounds a lot like, “Burn Collingwood Burn!”

Juxtaposing this anti-Collingwood theme, references to Hawthorn also abound, such as ‘The Suit’, where he sings “You’ve got a suntan, football on Sunday, society boy… sipping champagne, football on Sunday, home on the train” a string of descriptors that could only apply to a Hawthorn fan.

Likewise in his masterpiece, ‘The Flowers of Romance’, he sings, “I’ve got binoculars on top of Box Hill”, indicating a man who is keeping a forensic eye on the development of young Box Hill Hawks players. Lydon as Hawthorn talent scout? Why not?

“You only see me for the clothes I wear” (Public Image, 1978)

The Hawks took to the field in a new away strip – our third outfit in as many matches. Like any society dame, Hawthorn simply refuses to be seen wearing the same thing twice. At this rate it won’t be long before we go retro chic and don the infamous harlequin number (below) from the mid 90s night series.

There had been a double blow at selection with Brad Sewell, one of our most industrious midfielders, ruled out, while for Collingwood, Nick Maxwell, one of our surest avenues to goal, was also ruled out.

And early on it looked like these absences would be telling. Collingwood was using the ball cleverly and combining well, while Hawthorn was second to the ball, slipping, sliding and spilling marks. A great team goal for the Pies involved six slick handballs and culminated in Jamie Elliott kicking his second goal for the quarter.

Collingwood was dominating early play and created multiple scoring opportunities, whereas Hawthorn managed only two first quarter goals: one from a free kick to Bradley Hill and one to Burgoyne after a pass from Buddy, a move which had originated in a free to Lewis.

The pattern continued in the second quarter and became alarming when Collingwood led by 22 points with Cloke and Elliott having kicked three each, whereas their counterparts, Buddy and Breust, had none between them.

Insistent rain drove us from our seats in the open to an under cover perch high on level 4. This offers a great vantage point to study set-ups, systems and strategies, only it seemed Hawthorn didn’t have any. Instead all I could see were gaping holes where Collingwood could swing the ball forward to where Cloke was one-out against Schoenmakers.

Either Breust was playing a blinder – setting up the low-fi Hawthorn hum of “Breuuuuuust” – or the Collingwood fans were finding fairly regular fault with the umpiring and booing at every stoppage. It was unclear if there was a specific decision which upset them, or whether they were afflicted by some sort of Tourette’s instinct.

As Lydon points out in ‘Careering’, “There must be meaning behind the moaning.” And in his exchange with Carrie Bickmore, when so eloquently said, “Shut up. Shut Up. Shut Up. Shut Up”, he might just as well have been addressing the Collingwood crowd.

With no discernible shift in ascendancy, somehow Hawthorn got back in the match with three quick goals: first new boy Anderson snapped truly, Buddy marked strongly from a speculative Burgoyne punt, and then Hodge took it from a stoppage and got onto a 50 metre spiral punt.

It was half-time and despite being outplayed for much of the game, we were only one point down.

“Anger is an energy” (Rise, 1986)

Clarko can’t have been happy at half-time and he clearly found a way to transmute this anger into energy, as the Hawks were a different team after the break.

The three Bs: Breust, Buddy and Birchall banged on goals after the break and with energy and enterprise; the Hawks were beginning to get on top. Hodge was becoming the most influential player on the ground, Gibson, Stratton and Birch were controlling the back line and Mitchell was in every pack.

When Cloke slotted a behind with 8.25 minutes to go in the third, Hawthorn led 10.9 to 9.9 and it looked like we were in for a tight finish. Until the next passage of play…

Guerra took the kick out, launching a torp into the centre square where Stratton marked and played on. Tackled by Dwyer he got off a handball to a running Franklin, who hurdled the prone bodies of Stratton and Dwyer as they fell to the ground in front of him and slammed the ball on his boot from about 75 metres out. The ball landed in the vacant goal square and bounced through. It had taken just 12 seconds from post to post.

If those who judge the goal of the year weren't so obsessed with the now bog standard dinky rolling banana goal, they might like to consider this one in their adjudications. Or the next one...

Next up Hodge grabbed the ball from the stoppage and sent through another 50 metre torp, post high.  Then Roughead kicked one from a dubious free kick, Buddy ran onto a loose ball and passed to Burgoyne in the goal square, and then Stratton and Anderson dispossessed Pendlebury, Cyril got it to Breust who kicked another. Three quarter time and the Hawks lead 15.9 to 11.9 and we were looking strong.

The final quarter commenced with a goal off the ground from Buddy and the Hawks continued to edge ahead, adding six more goals, making it 15 goals to six in the second half and a comprehensive 55 point triumph.


Final scores: Hawthorn 22 13 145  d  Collingwood 13 12 90.


What we learned: Johnny Rotten hasn't mellowed. Jed Anderson may well be our next Mitchell and despite a couple of errors, Taylor Duryea played a strong debut game. Plus his name rhymes.

By missing his walk-in goal from the square to defeat Essendon, Christopher Mayne of the Fremantle Dockers brought shame on the no. 23 jumper. It showed, however, that Freo doesn't need another number 23 with questionable accuracy, so perhaps they can leave Buddy alone.


What we already knew: That Luke Hodge bloke goes alright doesn't he? News today that a woman obsessed with Hugh Jackman threw a shaver full of her her pubic hair at him. I'm not saying I'm kinky, but if Hodge keeps turning it on like he did this week, I can't promise I won't get out the Lady Bic myself.

Round 2 - West Coast v Hawthorn

Subiaco, Sunday 7 April 2013

The Heat Is On

JK, like KJ (left) advocates
a measured response

Kim Jong-un applauds
a Hawthorn attack 

The news this week was dominated by the mad bellicose ranting and absurd posturing of hostile political forces and mad despots. First there was Kim Jong-un moving his ballistic missiles into range of South Korea and Guam, and then, more alarmingly, there was Jeff Kennett firing his own ballistic missiles by advocating that Hawthorn sack coach Alistair Clarkson after our seven points opening round loss to Geelong.

Um, Jeff; it was round one and it was seven points.


To sack our coach after one loss of just over a goal would elevate us to the bizarre levels of elite soccer where coaches are changed like bandages. Chelsea last year sacked its coach after winning the UEFA trophy as the best team in Europe – it’s unclear what else the coach could have done really…got Chelsea a seat in parliament? Won the Eurovision song contest?

Sacking Clarkson after one narrow loss, however, would certainly send a strong message to any would-be applicants for the vacant position. If this is Jeff’s standard, you just wonder what he would advocate for Melbourne and Mark Neeld. Two losses totaling 200+ points would surely warrant sacking plus perhaps on-selling him to the white slave trade, or harvesting and trafficking his live organs. Or has Melbourne devised an even more cunning and dastardly plan by making him continue coaching their hopeless rabble of a team?

This was the set up to our now must win encounter with the Eagles: the Hawks coming off a six day break compared to a 15 day break for the Eagles and temperatures topping 32 degrees Celsius in Perth. At least our all white clash strip was going to prove nice and cool in the heat.

"Keddie to Full Forward!"

Not that I could see it. I was stranded on the couch as a post-op invalid, and still with no Foxtel, I was stuck with the radio for this match. SEN was covering the match and my DAB+ was picking up a nice clear signal. A lively and chatty commentary team were at the helm – Gaz, Gossy & Brett – and they seemed only marginally biased by WA standards.

They were also reasonably accurate in that I usually had some idea at which end of the ground the action was taking place and which team had the ball – although both sides having a Hill playing for them caused some confusion. Plus I learned that Steffi Graf is still good looking, or “goes alright” as one of them put it, though apropos of what I can’t say, and that Asher Keddie had been backed in from $11 to $1 for the Gold Logie. A good sign that, as Keddie is a famous name at Hawthorn and with her bouncy blonde locks, Asher would look good in the brown ‘n’ gold verticals (and the shorts). She could even have been a recruiting target in the 90s.

Asher Keddie likes a brown 'n gold backdrop

For expert analysis and expostulations I had my Hawthorn buddy Chan-Tha relaying messages via text. Chan-Tha was watching via Foxtel and was also at home in post-op rehab (our operations were unrelated; it wasn't some sort of Siamese twin separation or existential Grand Final angst operation – though that wound is real enough it is sadly inoperable). She was able to balance the WA bias with an acceptable and welcome Hawthorn bias.

Without being able to see the action, the parochial Eagles crowd provides the radio follower with a clear picture of which team is awarded the free kick, much quicker than the commentators could ever hope to describe it. The sound of 30,000 people moaning is truly heart-warming. And positively joyous when they became completely feral in the final quarter.

It's It's the Hawthorn Blitz

With the effects mike unable to pick up any cheering Hawks fans, every goal comes as a complete surprise when it’s announced. And there were plenty of them. It was a veritable roll call of Hawthorn goals: Rioli, Breust, Buddy, Roughead, Buddy, Rioli. Then Burgoyne, Smith and Rioli again, and the Hawks were blitzing.

Of course anyone who follows Hawthorn, or even just saw last week’s match, knows that we are always vulnerable once we’ve gained a solid lead. And so it proved with the Eagles slamming on four goals in quick succession, before Breust and Roughead both goaled to give us a 68-42 half-time lead. Weirdly, we were kicking straight. It must have been the heat, or I was in a pain-killer induced delirium.

When Rioli and Buddy opened the third with quick goals I could again relax in my sickbed, though my wound began to trouble me again as the Eagles began to edge back into the contest. As the third quarter progressed we started to miss goals and the Eagles were kicking accurately. Breust missed a shot right on the siren. “Fuck” read Chan-Tha’s text. Our three quarter time lead was only 19 points and according to the SEN boys and more tellingly, Chan-Tha’s text messages, we were looking tired. I hit the Tramadol hard.

Listening via radio it can be difficult to tell who’s playing well. The commentary team assured us Mitchell was playing brilliantly. His name wasn’t being called that often, but most of his best work is so quick and deft the commentators don’t have time to mention him, or they miss the guy scooting off with the ball. Or in one case when they said, “Roughead lumbers after the ball”; a picture instantly familiar to any Hawks fans.

Sewell, Bailey and Birchall seemed to be in the action, and reassuringly, Hodge’s name was being called with increasing regularity as the game wore on.  He appeared to be repelling a number of Eagles attacks and set up a telling goal late in the third with a great tackle and rebound. It was developing into the most welcome comeback since Bowie released ‘Where Are We Now?’ his first single in 10 years and, coincidentally, the exact question Hawthorn might have been asking had he not been there.  

Even Bowie never wore anything this camp

Pass the Panadeine Forte

So I had Tramadol and Panadeine Forte to help get me through the final quarter, but as it turned out, e’s and whizz would have been better suited as the Hawks piled on the goals: Birchall and Hale to start with. Then after an unwelcome intrusion by the Eagles, Hale again, followed by Breuuuust to wrap up the game. And getting into the spirit of things, the umpires awarded Hill and Buddy free kicks and 50 metre penalties, both resulting in goals to send the crowd into frothing convulsions of hate. “Love it” posted Chan-Tha. Listening to the Subiaco crowd baying, the commentary team felt the need to virtually apologise for them and reassure listeners that with a free kick count of 23 apiece, the umpiring was not the reason the Eagles were 44 points down. Then Breust and Buddy iced the game beautifully with a couple more.

There are fewer forms of pain relief as effective as a 50 point win against the odds. With our first win the season can now be said to have commenced and we can realistically begin contemplating this year’s premiership.


Final scores: Hawthorn 23 10 148  d  West Coast 15 8 98.


Number of texts exchanged during the match: 65


What we learned: Steffi Graf is still hot, apparently. Asher Keddie to take home the Gold Logie. And those cynics who said Round 1 simply showed that Melbourne is still tanking and Essendon is still on drugs might actually be onto something.

What we already knew: Roughead doesn't run, he lumbers.

Round 1 - Hawthorn v Geelong

MCG - Monday 1 April 2013

April Fools

New Hawk couture - fits hour glass figures 

For more than four years since the infamous Kennett curse, the Hawks have been Geelong’s bunnies. And now that Hawthorn and Geelong are routinely scheduled to play on Easter Monday, we’ve simply become their Easter bunnies. 

There we were, five goals in front half way through the second quarter, with our midfield and defence on top, our forwards breaking even, and even the umpires giving us all the chocolates, but in keeping with the predictable plot lines of these Groundhog Day matches, we all knew what was going to ensue. And it duly did. Geelong was always going to win and again, we were just their bunnies in an elaborate April Fools joke. Ha Ha. 

Hawthorn is never more vulnerable than when a few goals in front of Geelong at half time. The only bet worth taking at such as stage is how long before Geelong hit the front or which Geelong player will step up to kick the winning goal. 

In the end the seven point margin flattered Hawthorn. We were completely outplayed in the second half and our little flurry near the end never really threatened to amount to much. I’m just glad Breust missed a set shot a minute or so from time so that it didn’t turn into yet another sub-goal loss. That is something I really don’t think I’d have coped with.

Hernias and hamstrings 

As it is I have an operation scheduled on Tuesday to correct an abdominal hernia. During a consultation with the surgeon I issued strict instructions that if the Hawks lose another close one to the Cats, he should just rip out my heart while he’s in there. Though as I write this it feels like the Cats have beaten him to it.

As surgery goes this is supposedly routine, but as with any surgery involving a general anaesthetic there is an element of risk. Even so, in the lead up to the weekend I was dreading the match much more than the surgery. The surgery will at least make me better.

There’s very little point giving any sort of match description; we’ve seen it all before. But purely from a record keeping perspective, it may be worth noting that our first goal of the season came from Jordan Lewis. Brad Sewell picked up where he left off in the Grand Final as our best player, Bradley Hill was lively in the first half, Schoenmakers played quite well to win his share of contests and Buddy kicked a couple of great second quarter goals. 

When Cyril received a free kick in the second quarter for a high tackle – a Geelong player was sitting on Cyril’s back with his arms over his shoulders so it seemed fairly self-evident to me – yet it was amusing to see Joel Selwood, of all people, complain to the umpire for awarding a free kick for a high tackle. 

Not Buddy's actual butt.

But he didn’t complain nearly as much as the Cats fan in the row in front of me, who became apoplectic at various points throughout the match – most vociferously whenever Buddy strayed into the action, wishing all manner of to afflictions to befall him. 

At one point he shouted out in a demented scream that he hoped Buddy would ‘do twenty hamstrings’.

My knowledge of anatomy is not comprehensive so I’m not sure how many hamstrings a person has, but at a guess I would say one or two in each leg, as per the illustration (right). I’ll have to ask my surgeon tomorrow. Clearly this bloke imagines Buddy to have some sort of concert harp type set-up in the back of his leg. Or he’s simply hoping for the same hammy to recur 20 times. 

It soon became a moot point, because by the final quarter, he’d upgraded his seething curse to ‘I hope you die Buddy!’ It seemed pretty severe threat to lay on someone who’d tried hard and kicked a couple, but then they must have said the same thing to Jesus at about this time of year as well. This type of abuse must come with being a saviour I suppose. 

I did wonder if this is the type of anti-social behaviour at matches we’re exhorted to report, but instead I decided to rise above such ugly sentiments and not get involved, for fear the surgeon would have more than a hernia to fix tomorrow. 

Watching the Hawks didn’t exactly help my prognosis. There wasn’t much to like about them – including the new jumper – but I was impressed by young Jed Anderson whose second involvement in his first game was to run straight into an oncoming Cat to make a contest. He didn’t win it but he certainly didn’t shy away from the contest.

The Promised Land

This was another spirit sapping day against Geelong, another day when, to quote Springsteen, who played at Hanging Rock over the weekend, you want to, “explode and tear this whole town apart, take a knife and cut this pain from my heart.” But even though we've grown accustomed to losing to the Cats in recent years, I still look forward to the day when we beat them again, as we will, as we must, because, just as Springsteen concludes in the same song, “I believe in the Promised Land.”


Final scores: Geelong 13 15 93  d  Hawthorn 12 14 86

What we learned: It took only 20 seconds of the 2013 season for the umpires to pay Chris Judd a free kick.

What we already knew: It would take less than 30 seconds into the 2013 season for the umpires to pay Chris Judd a free kick.