Round 13 - Hawthorn v West Coast

Friday 21 June, Etihad Stadium

On the Solstice

Shortest day, long night

Ra: the Egyptian Sun God - clearly the ancients
loved the hawks!

The winter solstice is when the Sun reaches its furthest north position in the sky before moving back towards the south, marking the turning point in the year’s cycle of light; the moment we move from the dormancy, darkness and cold of winter and begin to emerge into the light. In AFL terms this means we conclude the boring bye rounds and turn for the run home to the finals.

It is the shortest day of the year, and therefore the longest night, which comes as no surprise to Hawks fans anxious for the siren to sound to end a match in which our five goal lead over the Eagles was ebbing away like midwinter light as the final quarter wore on.

“Solstice” comes from Latin: sol meaning "sun" and sistere meaning “to stand still”, because it appears as though the sun and moon have stopped moving across the sky…not unlike our midfield as the final quarter counted down and the Eagles continued to bring the ball forward where the umpires, like agents of darkness, summoned free kicks for West Coast.

The siren did finally sound with the ball in Gunston’s hands as he lined up for goal, as sure a symbol as any of the renewal of light and nature’s rebirth, of life’s triumph over death. And just as the solstice is commemorated with ritual and sacred song, so too this fine victory with a rousing chorus of “We’re a happy team at Hawthorn” ringing the stadium.

Roughead - the Sun God

Ra or Rough gets a well earned rub-down

If we had a Sun God on the night, it was Jarryd Roughead. Perhaps it was his ginger hair and beard, a fiery mane that meant he at least looked the part, but either way, he gave us plenty to worship.

In the first quarter alone he kicked our first two goals, three of the first five and set up our sixth with a deft tap to Breust.

He continued to pluck marks all night, ended up with five goals – including a couple just when we needed them. He could have kicked more but was overcome by a deity-like instinct to share, when really; the better option might have been for him to hog the limelight. Particularly as his two passes resulted in a grand total of one point.

Pictured here is Ra, the Egyptian Sun God. Notice anything? Well clearly ‘Ra’is an ancient abbreviation of Rarr or even Roughead. And that face looks somewhat familiar – to say nothing of those wings.

Our first goal was one of the highlights of the quarter: From the back line Guerra got it to Stratton, who kicked to Hale, who found Hodge, who passed to Breust, who went to Lewis who got it over the top to the Rough running into an open goal. Seven players, more than a third of the team, combining beautifully to kick a goal in less time than it took me to type that sentence.

The other highlight of a cracking first quarter in which both teams kicked six goals came courtesy of just one bloke – Nic Naitanui. Taking the ball directly from a toss up (why don’t we call it a ‘throw up’?) in the goal square, Naitanui was so quick no one had time to lay a finger on him before he kicked it through.

Naitanui played a great game. In addition to goal of the match, he was the standout ruckman, leaping high in the ruck to win the tap, and even taking a specci in the final quarter.

“Here comes the sun…do do do do…”

Here Comes the Sun, The Beatles

The second quarter, however, was when we established the crucial break that would remain the difference between the teams for rest of the match. Le Cras goaled early to give the Eagles an 8 point lead, though even this was dubious: from my vantage point on level 2 you could see the divot he made when sliding to take the mark, and all of it was over the boundary line.

But this injustice was followed by six unanswered Hawthorn goals: Breust, Gunston (twice), Buddy, Rough and Savage. It could have been more had Rough been a tad more selfish and Buddy not been penalised for taking a strong mark while being held – a free kick no one at the ground could quite follow.

The Eagles fought back in the third but again, the Rough took a towering mark to kick his fifth and maintain our lead. Buddy tapped cleverly to Breust for another and Lewis threaded through a nice one from a set shot near the boundary.

In the final quarter the Hawks dominated but couldn’t quite score. Nor could Buddy win a free kick, despite being, well held isn’t the word, more like groped. It was I suspect, the winter darkness mounting a final, if futile, resistance before being banished by the post-solstice light, which came from Gunston and then Simpkin, before Gunston’s post siren closer.


Final score: Hawthorn  19  9  123  d  West Coast 16  7  103


What we learned: The hyper-inflation surrounding Buddy’s ‘offers’ continues to grow at South American rates.  The Herald–Sun ran a feature during the week reporting that the GWS offer is now up to $12 million over six years. This is just one week after they reported that it was $10 million over the same period and three weeks since they reported it was $9 million. It’s gone up by $3 million in just three weeks, a period in which Buddy has kicked just eight goals. Imagine if he was in form! At this rate it will be up to about $30 million over six years by the time he has to make a decision. No wonder he’s holding out.

And so far, the journos at the people’s paper haven’t presented any evidence of these offers or provided any actuarial tables or fiduciary data to support such figures or why they’re escalating so rapidly. No interviews with Buddy, his manager or anyone at GWS. I wonder if they require a little more financial rigour and exactitude of their Business reporters.

It’s seems that every journo who tackles this topic has to add a million or it appears he or she isn’t doing their job.

And I wonder if the GWS accountant – is that still Scully’s dad? – is keeping up with these figures? And what sort of fucking salary cap have they got? It seems nearly as open-ended as the USA’s defence budget, or even the Swans’ salary cap.

Either way, we could do without Demetriou pimping on GWS’s behalf!


What we already knew: Watching your team play the Eagles with Dennis Cometti commentating is a bit like watching Collingwood with Eddie at the mike. Happily I was at the match, but watching it back later it was apparent just how much barracking Cometti does, though he went very quiet when Embley was pile-driving his knees into Stratton’s chest.


What we'll never understand: Why Hawthorn was playing a 'home' game at Etihad. Must have been to keep the MCG clear for that blockbuster between Melbourne and St.Kilda?


Elsewhere: It’s hard to fathom North – after Swallow was suspended they carped and moaned about the bump being dead, and then this week Harvey is complaining to umpires about being pinched by Ryan Crowley. Pinched! What sort of brute is that Crowley! Compare this to Marc Murphy from last week. I haven’t heard a single word of complaint from Marc Murphy over his broken jaw (okay, so that might be because he can’t talk), but Harvey is carrying on like...well, Mick Malthouse.

The Darkness

The 2012 season was marked by untimely deaths in and around football: Jim Stynes and John McCarthy, but the most gruesome and widely reported was that of Jill Meagher who went missing in Grand Final week, with her body being found on Grand Final eve.

This week Adrian Bayley was sentenced to a minimum 35 years jail for her rape and murder, a crime the judge, Justice George Nettle, called “among the worst kinds conceivable”.

Let us hope that this too is an instance of us overcoming the darkness and emerging into the sort of light where this type of incident no longer occurs.

Round 12 - Carlton v Hawthorn

Friday 14 June, Etihad Stadium 

Religious intolerance

Saint Luke - the only deity to follow
- photoo: bigfooty.com

Footy is often compared to religion, largely because of the unquestioning allegiance to a particular team or creed by its adherents, the fierce devotion of the supporters. There’s also the donning of ceremonial vestments, whether it be cassock or duffle coat, the singing of special songs, whether you’re belting out a hymn or intoning the team song, and the elevated status of a central figure who is worshipped for their super-human, even celestial powers, such as Christ, Muhammad or Buddy Franklin. Then of course there are the sex scandals, but that’s another story.

But in addition to all of this, where footy also resembles religion is in the enmity that one creed’s adherents feel for another.  Just as Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland don’t mix, or Jews and Muslims are antagonistic towards each other in the Middle East (well, anywhere really), so it is with footy fans.

AFL fans will often boast that one of the great things about our game is that fans of opposing sides can sit together at games without rancour or becoming aggressive and combative. There may not be the rioting and street fighting that you see in a European soccer fixture, or the need to separate fans of opposing teams, but there are other ways of showing disdain than through violence. For example, I harbour a long and enduring loathing of Carlton and consider being a Carlton fan to be a character flaw akin to being a perjurer or fraudster. This extends to the players obviously. I always quite liked Chris Judd until he left West Coast for Carlton. I don’t hold a grudge against players who are drafted against their will to play for Carlton, but Judd actively chose Carlton – as sure a sign of moral decrepitude as you can get in my view.

As a result, it’s no accident that none of my close friends support Carlton. Once I learn someone is a Carlton fan I know we have nothing in common and that we’ll never be close. Even though I show no outward sign of these feelings, except perhaps a slight sour expression, it’s barely detectable and I make heroic attempts to maintain civility, I remain as suspicious of Carlton fans as a Shiite might be of a Sunni.

Show us ya tatts! 

Of course it follows that I consider Hawthorn fans to be like-minded sophisticates, sensitive souls who are pure of heart and mind, morally impeccable healers and, above all, good looking.

So it came as something of a shock when among those crowding on the post-match Craigieburn train were two Hawk fans, one in mid 20s, another say mid 30s, who spent the entire journey comparing not only their tattoos – which you could argue attests to a certain artistic élan, at least of a gritty urban variety – but the varying degrees of pain associated with branding the respective body parts.

“What about the behind the ear?” asked elder of younger, referring to the Hawks emblem branded there.

“Nah not too bad. Tell ya what hurt though. The chest…Geez what a killer” he said with relish. Here he lifted his shirt to reveal his stomach with large cursive font reading “Blood is thicker than water” (but not as permanent as ink I thought…or as nice as champagne).

“Fuck, that’s tough” said the elder admiringly, as if he’d never heard the saying before. Perhaps he hadn’t.

“I’ll tell ya what fucken hurts the most though,” continued the elder, “the fucking Achilles. Fuck man that hurt.

It’s like running a razor blade across your skin” Or a hot branding iron for that matter I thought.

And on they went with their inventory of tatts, discussing existing tatts, mates with tatts, plans for future tatts and their possible locations, with the elder pausing occasionally to comment again on how much the ‘fucken achilles’ hurts.

A Hawthorn flower tattoo - that's tough
- photo: checkoutmyink.com

That's what I call a Hawks tatt
- photo: zimbio.com

Horse sense

Okay, so not my type necessarily, but Hawthorn is a broad church and happily accommodates people of all tastes and talents. But even in this there are limits on what is acceptable. On the train on my way to the match I picked up a copy of MX and read an article in which Goo revealed that he has a habit of grabbing the microphone at weddings (presumably the reception) to sing ‘Horses’ by Daryl Braithwaite. This is not an idle occurrence; it's happened 12 times. Not only that, but Dazza is his favourite singer!

This certainly raises questions about Goo’s actual age – surely no one under 40 lists Dazza as their favourite singer. But far more disturbing are the questions it raises about his taste in music. Daryl Braithwaite! I imagine Buddy and Gibbo layin down the grooves with Jay-Z or Kanye in a weights session, or Stratts and Hilly working out to Daft Punk or Flume – Sammy and Hodge would be more your straight rock types, Chilli Peppers, Coldplay, –  so it’s hard to imagine the reception Goo gets when he tunes the iPod to Sherbet’s Greatest Hits.

I reflected on this to distract myself from the forthcoming game, about which I held some fears. Coming off a bye and having played GWS, Gold Coast and Melbourne in the three weeks leading into the bye, I thought the Hawks might be a little bit vulnerable. Added to that, this was to be Chris Judd’s 250th game and Carlton must surely be fired up after blowing the previous week’s game against Essendon. Plus they haven’t beaten us since 2006, a match I recall as it happens. It was truly awful – Waite played well I trecall – and I was fearful of a repeat.

You can see why Goo likes them - that's Dazza far left
 - photo: tammytingles.com

False dawn

I arrived late for the match and as I walked in to take my seats, the Hawks were already three goals up. My pre-match fears suddenly seemed stupid and misplaced, baseless anxieties borne of not having seen the Hawks in action for two weeks. Of course we were going to roll them. What was I thinking?

And then as I took my seat Breust took a good grab. ‘Keep it going Hawkers’ I thought. He missed. And from that moment on, 10 minutes into the first quarter, until 10 minutes into the third quarter when Eddie Betts pushed Stratton into Gibbs, gathered the ball and ran into goal, Carlton had added 10 goals to our 4 and it was all looking a little grim.

Along the way we’d turned it over, given away a 50 to Kreuzer for a goal, although it’s still unclear what the infringement was, fumbled and been out hustled and harassed by the Blues. One passage early in the third had us feeling anxious. After Waite kicked the opening goal of the third to extend the lead to 17 points, the Hawks were bringing the ball along the wing where Breust handballed to Hodge, missed him and the ball bobbled over the boundary. It didn’t look good.

Or sound good. The match was marred by the two blokes behind me – one Hawthorn, one Carlton –who yelled “Deliberate!” every time the ball went out of bounds. Every time. If you’ve ever watched a game of football you’ll know how often that is. Hilarious, right? All I can think of is that they must have gotten a laugh early on and desperate for approval, continued to shout it. The only real amusing moment came late in the final quarter by which time even they had grown tired of it and the umpire finally paid one.

True Faith 

We needed something and as usual, it Sammy who took it upon himself to turn things around. Charging out from goal, Buddy grabbed the ball and handballed to Lewis who got it over to Sammy, who duly slotted one on the left. Nice one Sammy.

After an intervening goal to Betts, Duryea measured a beautiful 40 m pass to the Rough who marked and goaled. Then a telling passage; the Hawks won the ball in defence, Stratton beat Garlett on the wing, kicked it on to Buddy who beat Jamieson at half-forward who got it over to Hodge who right-footed it to the goal square where Gunston took the grab. This was followed by another attack culminating in Duryea kicking forward and getting flattened by Waite. The resulting free to the Rough put us in front.

The chorus of Carlton booing highlighted either how little football these fans have seen, or that they’ve become spoilt on a regular diet of cheap free kicks to Chris Judd over the years.

Brian Lake was combining well with Gibbo and Stratton and was playing a great game, taking a series of steadying marks in defence. But one of his limitations became apparent early in the final quarter when Brock Maclean, not exactly a speedster, took possession and ran a half circle with Lake giving chase and demonstrating the turning circle of the QEII. Maclean eventually put the ball on Armfield’s chest to help Carlton regain the lead.

From there though, the main men took over. Hodge, of course, put us in front. Then Buddy with a big mark and goal, then Buddy again running on to a pass from Lewis, and finally Hill taking a 40m pass from Rough at the end to seal the win.

A great win by the Hawks, but it wasn’t nearly as tight as some are making out. At least three of Carlton’s goals came from Hawthorn defensive clangers, Kreuzer goaled from a 50m penalty no one could see, Hawthorn missed at least four set shots. Add all this together a little differently and a 15 point win becomes a 60 point win.  Really, we killed 'em.

Even so, the win was made extra special by Malthouse’s tantrum at the end. As gracious as ever, Malthouse ranted about umpiring, emphasising that he wasn’t taking anything away from Hawthorn, before proceeding to do just that. As my friend John observed, if you were hitch-hiking to Sydney and Mick Malthouse and Ivan Milat both stopped for you, you’d get in with Milat over Malthouse. His whingeing shows at least that he’s fitting in with the Carlton culture – if that’s not misusing the word – where the first word they learn isn’t ‘mummy’ or ‘daddy’ but “Fiftyyyyyy!”

At least Carlton is getting its fans back – John also observed that their membership suffered a terrible dip during Melbourne’s Gangland wars.

Body language

Of course all the talk post-match was about Hodge’s bump on Murphy that left the Carlton captain with a broken jaw. To everyone except Malthouse it was an accidental collision that could just as easily have caused an injury to Hodge. No one wants to see great players get hurt, and this was never more true than Friday night, when we all wished it was Malthouse, not Murphy, who sustained a broken jaw– if only to stop him whingeing.

Carlton sulking had also dominated the lead up to the match. With only six matches being played, there was so little footy content to fill the endless sports pages that we had four days of articles about Chris Yarran’s body language when he was the sub in the previous match. I didn’t see the match (I’m just happy one of either Carton or Essendon emerged as a loser) or indeed whatever display Yarran put on, but unless he actually mooned the crowd or the coach, I find it hard to see how this could possibly justify the amount of comment it provoked in the papers.  It was nearly as tedious as the ALP’s leadership bickering.


Final scores: Hawthorn 15 12 102 d Carlton 13 9 87.


What we learned: if you’re going to get a tatt, behind the ear is ok, or on the arm. Even the foot’s ok. Just avoid the ‘fucking achilles’ – has anyone told Dane Swan.


What we already knew: the number 23 would make the key difference at Etihad this week. Not Buddy this time, but Bresciano, who opened the scoring for Australia against Jordan to help send us to the World Cup finals.


Melbourne: The CEO’s gone, the President resigned and at last Melbourne has sacked Mark Neeld. My God Caro must be relieved. From the opening bounce of any given season, Caro’s sole interest in football seems to be which coach will get sacked first. She’s been angling for Worsfold or Hird, but she’ll take Neeld. I wonder if she’ll now sit back and watch a game.

Of course she can’t rest yet. She’s still busy appointing Melbourne’s board. She seems determined that Jeff Kennett not be president. And I agree; I think he should be coach.

Between the Rounds - Should I Stay or Should I Go?

It's the Bye round and with only six games to preview, no sex scandals, drug allegations or racism rows to distract us or keep the legion of footy writers engaged in their usual moral hectoring, the media last week reverted to its default topic for 2013 – which team will Buddy play for next year?

Not only that, but the ‘reported’ offers rose to $10 million overnight – a degree of hyper-inflation not seen since Germany between the wars.

Campbell Brown suggested that Buddy might like to get out of the spotlight in Melbourne, and Royce Hart agreed that yes, Buddy could be useful at Richmond, which as far as stating the bleeding obvious goes, is a bit like observing that Lionel Messi would fit nicely into Melbourne Heart’s starting line-up.

Of course the footy press gallery have shown themselves to be every bit as susceptible to fanciful rumour and flippant suggestion as the Canberra press gallery when confronted with a whisper of yet another ALP leadership spill, and the journos have dutifully proceeded to churn out great tracts of text around every conceivable outcome. How Freo would use Buddy, where Buddy would fit into the Carlton salary cap, what sort of drawcard Buddy would be for GWS, what sort of compensation Hawthorn would receive for him, could he play alongside Tippett at the Swans?

The only possibility I haven’t heard canvassed is of Buddy becoming a code crosser and playing rugby league or union. But perhaps I just haven't been paying attention.

Given that there hasn't been one single utterance from Buddy or his management about this issue since the original announcement that he was putting off contract talks until the end of the season, and therefore no material development in the story, you have to admire the ability of our footy media to type themselves into a frenzy over nothing. Imagine if they used all that energy for good?

While I find the whole Buddy saga quite distressing, for my own part I don’t think the AFL is going far enough with free agency. If this was free agency in its purest form, Buddy would be free to play for a different team each week. Perhaps he could be some sort of super-sub, or wildcard selection each week The team he represents could be determined on a needs basis, which lowly club needed him the most that week, or where he might draw the best crowd. There could be some sort of bidding process, or perhaps Rebecca Judd could pop on that red frock and draw a team from a hat in a special ceremony at AFL HQ?

Imports versus Exports

All this talk of whether Buddy will stay or go has led me to reflect on other great players who have left Hawthorn, and indeed, on some of the great players who have joined the club.

Just look at our current backline: Gibson, Lake, Guerra – all imports from other clubs. Then look at Sydney’s current midfield boasting Kennedy and McGlynn – both ex-Hawthorn.

If you line up those who have joined Hawthorn over the years against those who have left Hawthorn, who would win?

In the spirit of Bye week and naming composite representative teams - see 2012's best blondes to play for Hawthorn - this season I present two representative teams: Imports versus Exports.

Players are selected on the basis of their first club in the VFL/AFL.

Imports

B: Josh Gibson (NM) – Brian Lake (WB) – Brent Guerra (St.K)

HB: Joel Smith (St.K) – Stephen Gilham (PA) – Cameron Bruce (Mel)

C: Stuart Trott (St.K) – Shaun Burgoyne (PA) – Russell Greene (St.K)

HF: Stuart Dew (PA) – John Barker (Fitz) – Darren Kapler (Syd)

F: David Hale (NM) – Jack Gunston (Adl) – Aaron Lord (Gee)

FOLL: Paul Salmon (Ess) – Norm Goss (Sth) – Tony Woods (Coll)

Int from: Peter Everitt (St.K), Anthony Rock (NM), Lance Piccone (NM), Luke McCabe (Coll), Michael Byrne (Mel), Kyle Cheney (Mel), Danny Jacobs (Ess), Shaun Rehn (Adl), Darren Spangher (WC), Andrew Demetriou (NM).

Coach: Allan Jeans

The Imports team is largely selected based on their level of performance with Hawthorn rather than for their original club, with the exception of Cameron Bruce who gets in based on his performances at Melbourne, and because I needed a half decent half back flanker and Danny Jacobs just wasn't going to cut it. Likewise, Andrew Demetriou, whose career at Hawthorn was unremarkable, to put it kindly, has really has only been selected because he’s the CEO of the AFL and we might need him on side.

In other points of interest – the current back line takes its place, and it's plain that all our best ruckmen since Don Scott have been imported, with Paul Salmon arguably our greatest import. OK, well other than Stuart Dew that is. Also, it seems over the years that Hawthorn has used St.Kilda pretty much as our own development squad.

Ablettt!

Exports

B: Brad Scott (Bne) – Kelvin Moore (Rich) – Peter Welsh (Rich)

HB: Mark Graham (Rich) – Trent Croad (Fre) – Campbell Brown (GC)

C: Russell Morris (St.K) – Terry Wallace (Rich) – Clinton Young (Coll)

HF: Darren Jarman (Adl) – Dermott Brereton (Syd) – Paul Hudson (WB) * 91 premiership HF line

F: Mark Williams (Ess) – Gary Ablett (Gee) – Daniel Chick (WC)

Foll: Greg Dear (Rich) – Barry Rowlings (Rich) – Josh Kennedy (Syd)

Int from: Matthew Robran (Adl), Ben Allan (Freo), Brent Renouf (PA), Luke McPharlin (Freo), Ben McGlynn (Syd), Zac Dawson (St.K), Jade Rawlings (NM), Jonathan Hay (NM), Steve Malaxos (WC), Kevin Heath (Car), Ian Scrimshaw (Rich), Kelvin Matthews (Gee), Alan Martello (Rich), Nathan Thompson (NM), Paul Barnard (Ess)

Coach: David Parkin

Zsa Zsa rides again

The Exports have been selected also based on how they played for the Hawks rather than their adopted club, and it's true that many left after their best days had passed: Brereton, Wallace, Martello, Moore, Heath, Hay, Williams.

There are a couple of obvious exceptions, such as Gary Ablett, Matthew Robran, Luke McPharlin and Josh Kennedy, all of whom you’d have to say did okay after they left the Hawks. But after Robran’s tantrum in 1991 after being left out of the Grand Final side for Brereton - I mean, Brereton, the greatest Grand final player of all time - who would you pick? I’m pleased then that I couldn’t find a spot for him in this side either, losing out to guess who, Brereton again.

Yet for all of the criticism you might level at Hawthorn for letting Ablett go, as my friend Phillip once observed, we did make seven consecutive Grand Finals immediately after he left, so it's hard to argue that we needed him. Of course the main problem with letting Ablett go is only now becoming apparent, and that is that we missed out on Gary Ablett Jnr. under the father/son rule.

Also worth noting is that if St.Kilda is our academy, Richmond became pretty much a retirement home for successful Hawks.

Were these two teams to compete, I suspect Jaimee Rogers would have the Exports as short priced favourites. While the Imports might have the edge in the ruck with Salmon, Hale, Everitt and Rehn, on even an average day, you’d back at least one of Brereton, Ablett, Hudson, Jarman , Chick and Williams to fire. Meanwhile the Imports forwards of Gunston. Lord, Barker and co might struggle against the miserly combination of Scott, Moore, Brown and Croad.


Not all of our exports have been wildly successful: 

Round 10 - Melbourne v Hawthorn

MCG, Sunday 2 June

Buddylingus

Buddy gets on to his
natural arc

All Hawthorn matches these days are viewed through the prism of how Buddy performs. Any return of less than say a bag (5 goals) and the chattering about his future increases, in equal measure it seems, to the hyper-inflationary monetary offers being dangled before him by Freo, GWS and Carlton. This week we’re up to $9 million.

“Greed, for lack of a better word, is good” says Gordon Gekko, as played by Michael Douglas in ‘Wall Street’. He also says, “What's worth doing is worth doing for money.”  As I see it, kicking goals for the Hawks is arguably the most worthwhile human endeavour there is, so if it’s simply money that Buddy needs to keep doing it, Hawthorn’s executive needs to sort out a way for this happy practice to continue.

In this match Buddy kicked 2 goals, both from free kicks for holding. Of course had he been awarded a free kick every time he was held in or out of a contest, he might have ended up with 14 goals.

The way James Frawley grappled and groped him was more akin to sexual harassment than any legitimate defensive tactics. In fact had there been a magistrate present, Buddy could have successfully filed for a restraining order. That sort of thing may well be permissible in a men’s sauna, but not the goal square at the MCG, and only then if it’s consensual.

This brings us back to Michael Douglas who was reported in The Age this week as believing that giving oral sex is responsible for him contracting throat cancer.  Throat!  Tongue I can understand, but throat? He must really get in there! Or use a straw. That’s assuming of course that it is indeed women he favours with his nibbling and gnawing. His recent role as Liberace suggests that perhaps I’m taking too narrow a view of his predilections.

Anyway aside from the medical probabilities of this claim, given that he seems to have ruled out smoking and drinking as contributing factors, the level of self-congratulation and bragging inherent is notable. He goes on to claim that the cure for this type of cancer - HPV or human papillomavirus - is to administer more cunnilingus. I don’t know how this works from a medical standpoint, that the cause of the disease can also be the foundation of the cure, but it is eerily similar to the dilemma Hawthorn faces with Buddy at the moment: on one hand he’s not having the impact on the game that we know he can have, yet if he improves and starts kicking big bags, then his price goes up and we can’t afford to keep him, so our only hope is that his output continues to be modest.

Whatever the truth to Douglas’ diagnosis, it makes you wonder about the real inspiration behind wife Catherine Zeta-Jones’ films ‘Death-defying acts’ and ‘Entrapment’.

Of course where Douglas has really been irresponsible, at least on behalf of all other men, is to let on to women that oral sex can cause HPV – as if they need any further reasons to forgo this past time.

Melbourne Bitter

‘It’s a funny game, football’ is the sort of expression you might trot out to explain away a surprise result, but there was very little chance this match would provide much in the way of mirth, at least for Melbourne fans.

In fact ALP strategists would be more optimistic of victory at the forthcoming federal election than Melbourne’s coaching panel ahead of this week’s match. And about as likely to still be in their jobs come September.

It might be an interesting experiment for the Melbourne coaching panel and the ALP front bench to swap positions for six months and see if either institution fares any worse than is currently the case.

The prospect of a one-sided whitewash doesn’t appeal to everyone and that may explain the poor turnout of only 28,546. It’s like playing an interstate team. In fact, only 434 fewer people turned out the previous week to watch Hawthorn play Gold Coast at the same venue. And this at a venue that has been Melbourne’s home ground since 1890.

Not that I blame Melbourne fans for not turning up – the match pretty much panned out as they would have predicted when they opted to catch a matinee of The Great Gatsby, pick up a Ralph Lauren polo at David Jones' mid-year clearance or have an afternoon nap instead of going to the game.

In the first quarter, the inside 50 count was 14-8 in Hawthorn’s favour. This sounds dominant enough, but what that stat doesn’t show is that for some of those 14 entries, the ball stayed inside Hawthorn’s forward 50 for five minutes at a stretch, with the Hawks trying to find a way through the morass of Melbourne players cluttering up the backline. In fact Hawthorn’s forward line was more densely populated than sections of the Great Southern Stand.

The Hawks were applying strong pressure and executing some telling smothers to keep the ball in the forward half. Only poor conversion cost us a match-winning quarter time lead, scoring 3.9 with five missed set shots, including three from Breust.

There’s been much talk of Buddy’s form this year, but his value to the side was illustrated in the first goal of the second quarter. Isaac Smith took possession of the ball and ran towards goal bouncing the ball, with Buddy and three Melbourne defenders running alongside him all the way, but with the three Melbourne defenders focused only on Buddy, Smith was allowed to just keep running and calmly slot the goal.

This was the first of three goals in three minutes to effectively close out the match, with Breust finally nailing a set shot and Burgoyne screwing one through with his left. Then Birchall let fly with a torp that The Rough marked on the edge of the goal square.

The Melbourne supporter in front of me had remained stoic and as patient as could be expected throughout all this, but after yet another botched attempt on goal, he finally cracked. ‘At least get one goal for the match’ he bemoaned. His fears were reasonably well-founded too. As Melbourne’s latest snap shot attempt went sailing out on the full, the possibility that the Dees may not score a goal for the entire game had begun to dawn on those who were there. So it came almost as a relief when Jeremy Howe knocked one through off his shin.

They nearly got a second soon afterwards through a series of Hawk mishaps. Gibson took a pass from Smith at half back. Wracked by indecision he feinted left, then right, then when the umpire who was clearly bored with how long it was all taking called play on, he went left again, but somehow missed his foot in the ball drop and it simply bounced towards Rodan, the man on the mark, who got it to Trengrove, then McDonald who bombed it long towards goal, where Lake and Birchall stood waiting beneath it, both courteously leaving it for each other – “After you”, No, after you”, “No, look, I insist, after you” – during which time it nearly bounced through except that it fortuitously hit Birchall on the way and only a rushed behind ensued.

The quarter ended as it began, with a trinity of Hawthorn goals in the space of two minutes: Breust from a free, Smith from 50 and Birchall round the body right on the siren. After disappointing conversion in the first quarter, we added 9.1 in the second for a 69 point lead.

An 11 goal lead at half time is enough to win most matches and that’s pretty much the way Hawthorn approached the third quarter. I’m not suggesting we were complacent, or that we coasted, but we were outscored by Melbourne, so whatever key indicators all those stats people in the coaches box are measuring, whatever complex algorithms they’re running on their Apple Macs to determine player fitness and fatigue, the fact remains that we were outscored for the quarter. Aside from a strong mark and goal from the Rough, the only point of interest in the quarter was Hodgey being subbed-off. Hence, a good old school spray from Clarko was required at the break.

Whatever Clarko said seemed to have some effect. From the first bounce of the final quarter, Sewell, who had played an excellent match, took it from the centre and banged it forward where Grimley took a strong grab and goaled.

Several goals followed, including Bresut’s fifth, but the real highlights of the final term came from The Poo, who had been energetic all game. In classic Poo mode, he collected the ball in the pocket at Buddy’s feet, broke one tackle, barged through another and wheeled around to shoot on goal, only to put it out wide and on the full.  Five minute later he went through the same routine, but this time scored a beautiful goal to cap off an excellent match.

"I stay down with my Demons"

'Demons', The National

There has been much speculation in the media this week about the fate of Melbourne coach Mark Neeld. As if sacking the coach could possibly improve Melbourne in the immediate future, or as if Neeld arrived to an elite team of ready-made champions, and not a sinking ship that was already half submerged when he took the wheel. This doesn’t stop the media stalking him and going through his rubbish bins.

One day I’d like to see all of the AFL coaches camped outside the offices of the Herald-Sun, for example, and when Damo, Hutchy, Ralphy or Robbo rock up to work the day after a typo has slipped past the subs, bombard them with questions that contravene every basic workplace protection put in place by Fair Work Australia. Questions like 'Do you think your job is safe?' 'Have you lost the faith of the board?' 'Will you survive today?' 'Have you been asked to resign?' 'Have you thought about stepping down?'

Footage of coaches, or to give them their full title, ‘beleaguered coaches’ getting out of cars and walking into a building is not illustrative of anything except the electronic  media’s utter lack of imagination or sense of a story. When footy journalists apply to their own work the same standards of excellence to which they hold AFL coaches accountable, and when they’re happy to forego the safety net provided by strong industrial laws designed to protect them from unlawful sacking, they’ll have a lot more credibility when calling for a coach to be sacked.

But footy journalists and Melbourne supporters aren't the only people questioning Mark Neeld's hold on the Melbourne coaching job. American indie rock band, The National's new single 'Demons' sees singer Matt Berninger put himself in Mark Neeld’s shoes to illustrate the coach’s plight.

"I stay down with my demons" he croons in the chorus in general recognition of where he and his team are placed.

In the verses he gives more explicit voice to his unease over the outcome of this week’s board meeting at Melbourne,

"I get this sudden sinking feeling
Of a man about to fly"

... and even outlines his reaction to some of his team’s recent performances and the way he’s coaching.

"Never kept me up before
Now I've been awake for days
I can't fight it anymore
I'm going through an awkward phase."

…ultimately conceding that he is becoming defined by the current situation

"It's become the crux of me
I wish that I could rise above it
But I stay down
With my demons"

A reference to "Passing buzzards in the sky" suggests on the one hand, circling Hawks, such as he encountered on the weekend, and on the other, football journalists preparing to pick over his carcass .

"The worried talk to god goes on" is familiar to anyone who has seen footage of Neeld in the coaching box on game day. The song concludes with an attempt at self-evaluation that, if nothing else, accurately captures the mood when he walks into a post-match press conference.

"Do not know what's wrong with me
Sours in the cup
When I walk into a room
I do not light it up
Fuck.
So I stay down, with my demons."
(Repeat chorus)

Looking at it this way, perhaps Mark Neeld should be relieved of his duties…for his own sake!


Final scores: Hawthorn  21 17 143  d  Melbourne 6 12 48


What we learned – More than we really wanted to know about Michael Douglas' courtship rituals. Also that Melbourne has only 434 more fans than Gold Coast – in Melbourne.


What we already knew – After Carlton kicked inaccurately against Brisbane, coach Mick Malthouse suggested the full moon was responsible, drawing the ball away from the goals. While this comment was largely viewed in a comic light, regular readers of this blog will recall that we made the very same connection after Round 7 2012 when Hawthorn last met Melbourne and kicked 15 25, including 3.7 to Buddy, while the perigee-syzygy, or super moon, loomed over us.