Round 17 - Hawthorn v Western Bulldogs

Saturday 20 July 2013, Aurora Stadium

A tale of two teams

The  1961 Grand Final
- the last time a Hawthorn Bulldogs
match mattered. 

I put in an extended session at the gym on Saturday morning, not because I’m pushing myself to new peaks, or rather troughs, of physical exertion, but because one of the televisions above the treadmills was replaying a Hawthorn Bulldogs fixture from a few years ago. It was early in the third and the scores were close when I climbed on the bike, so I had no choice but to stay until I found out the result.

First I had to work out when the match was played.  The players provided the clues. Brent Renouf, Beau Muston and Wade Skipper were going around for the Hawks, while for the Dogs, Rocket Eade was in the box and Barry Hall, Brad Johnston and the bloke with the big ears who wore no.1 and looked like Merlin from the TV series were running around. Shaun Burgoyne’s presence helped me establish that it was probably 2010 and I could then settle down to enjoy the match.

It was still tight at the main break, but spectacular goals from Mitchell and Hodge put us in front (by now I could remember the game) and then Buddy seemed to seal the deal with a trademark long goal from 50 out on the boundary. A late goal to the Dogs, however, after a baffling decision to pay 50 against Buddy (it was one of those games where the umpires devoted themselves to penalising Buddy) brought it back to within a goal. Our boys hung on heroically, but only just, for the ball was heading towards the Bulldogs goal square when the siren sounded.

Watching this match caused me to reflect on the long history of memorable games between Hawthorn and Footscray/Western Bulldogs, and all those classic encounters over the years…and I realised, not without some degree of disquiet, that in fact there’d hardly been any.  Both teams had joined the league 88 years ago in 1925, yet in all that time had barely played a significant match.

Okay, obviously there’d been the 1961 Grand Final – our first flag, so quite significant, but there are very few other matches of any import that I can recall.

In 1984 Leigh Matthews played his 300th game and Michael Tuck his 250th on the same day at Western Oval. Then in 1985 we contested both the Qualifying and Preliminary Finals, the latter of which was Leigh Matthews’ penultimate game which he marked by coming from the bench to kick two goals and send us to the Grand Final.

In 2007 I recall Buddy kicked 2.11 at Docklands in a big Hawks win and then in 2008 he kicked 8 in the Qualifying Final, which the Hawks also won easily. The very next time we played them, however, in 2009, I watched in horror as the Hawks, reigning premiers, went in at half time trailing 13.10 to 0.4 – that’s right, not a single goal in the first half.

Since then, there was the afternoon when Jordan Lewis, running back with the flight of the ball got kicked in the head by Hargrave – and didn’t even get a free kick despite the head supposedly being sacrosanct. But my memory of other momentous matches is as sketchy as Jordan Lewis’ after that incident.

A tale of two kicks

Kyle - can now be teased for
something other than his red hair

- photo hawthornfc.com.au

Of the aggregate 389 kicks recorded by Hawthorn and the Western Bulldogs during their Round 17 encounter, the match, having very little else to distinguish it, has come to be defined by just two of them. One travelled approximately 70 metres and is a contender for goal of the year, and the other travelled just 10 metres and is a contender for miss of the year.  Both kicks came from Hawthorn players and represent the yin and yang of Hawthorn.

The first kick by Luke Hodge is perhaps noteworthy as much for the way he gathered the ball as for the actual kick. Taking the ball from the centre stoppage, Bulldog Ryan Griffin turned on to his right and sunk his boot into it to send it forward, but succeeded in kicking it directly into the chest of the oncoming Hodge who, without breaking stride, carried the ball for two or three steps before launching a massive kick that landed in an empty goal square and bounced through for a goal.

The second kick from Kyle Cheney was the result of a 50 metre penalty against Jordan Roughead, which put the man on the mark just 5 metres out, meaning that Cheney was kicking from the goal square. In a game where Hawthorn had already kicked inaccurately, Cheney set a new benchmark of waywardness, shanking it into the goal post.

Kyle is a name of Scottish origin meaning ‘strait’ as in a narrow sea channel, not to be confused with its homophone ‘straight’, as in direct, accurate kick from 5 metres out!

Of course it’s easy to laugh at a miss like this, but anyone who has ever lined up a ‘gimmee’ will know that it’s not as easy as it looks and that a goal square looms longer and larger in reality when you’ve got to kick over a man on the mark than it appears on TV.

To test the degree of difficulty of the kick I took my 13 year old son and a Match Day Sherrin down to the local park. I planted myself on the mark 5 metres out and gave him 10 kicks to see how many he could kick accurately. I sledged, I jumped about waving my arms, I vilified him, I called his mother rude names, I questioned his patrimony (Hey, hold on – that’s me), but he still calmly slotted 10 out of 10. So perhaps it is as easy as it looks.

I considered conducting the same experiment with my 80 year old mum to test the accuracy of the time honoured sledge, “My mother could kick that!”, but her eyesight is going, affecting her balance and she is walking with a limp, so I didn’t want to be the agency of a terrible accident just for the sake of a pointless experiment. The point being, however, that if a 13 year old school boy can kick it, a 24 year old professional footballer, even an ex-Melbourne player, should be able to.

In fairness, Kyle wasn’t the only player to miss from the goal square. All up I counted five players in various circumstances: In the first quarter Gunston sprayed a hurried snap shot, in the final quarter The Poo missed the ball entirely attempting a kick off the ground, whereas for the Dogs, Stevens missed in the second and Jones from off the ground in the third. It was just that sort of match.

The first quarter made for engaging and diverting viewing with Hawthorn creating numerous and regular scoring opportunities. Although they didn’t take all of them, you got a sense that eventually the sheer weight of numbers would result in an influx of goals.

But it didn’t eventuate, not until the final quarter at least. Over the course of the second and third quarters, both teams kicked just 3.6 each. Hodge’s goal was the lone highlight of the second quarter, unless you count Cheney’s spectacular miss, and the third quarter was a dour, messy affair, with neither team making any progress. The action was as stagnant and frustrating as watching the Australian top order trying to eke out runs at Lords, or the government trying to cobble together a coherent asylum seeker policy.

In the final quarter the match seemed to right itself with Hawthorn running in four goals in five minutes through Lewis, The Poo and Simpkin (2) to get the lead out to 44 points, something like the margin we were anticipating. Then the Dogs threw in one last plot twist kicking four goals in the final three minutes to bring the margin back to 19 points.

Overall, it was a game that lived up to the rich history between these two clubs.


Final scores: Hawthorn 13 17 95 d Western Bulldogs 11 10 76


What we learned: With the birth of the royal baby, the Queen now has a full compliment of heirs on the interchange bench: Charles, William and the baby prince, with Harry in the subs vest.



What we already knew: that Channel 9 has no hypocrisy alarm. On Thursday the Mornings team of Sonia Kruger and David Campbell previewed a segment critical of those who participate in 'fat shaming', the practice of photographing larger people in humiliating poses and posting the pics on social media sites. Much tut tutting was set to ensue. In the very next segment, however, Ken Sutcliffe joined them and discussed the streaker in the previous night's State of Origin clash - joking about his size and suggesting you could sell advertising space on his generous girth. Hello? Fat shaming anyone?

Round 16 - Port Adelaide v Hawthorn

AAMI Stadium, Saturday 16 July 2013

Winter Masterpieces – Hawthornism

Monet's design for new Hawthorn home strip
-  Claude Monet, The Japanese Footbridge circa 1920-22
The Museum of Modern Art, New York
Grace Rainey Rogers Fund

The NGV’s Winter Masterpieces exhibition, Monet’s Garden, showcases some of the major works by the great French Impressionist, Claude Monet, with particular emphasis on his paintings of waterlilies that flourished on his property in Giverny.

Impressionism was a 19th century art movement that originated in Paris with Monet as one of its earliest and most celebrated practitioners. It is characterised by pictures that focus not so much on formal lines, detail and realism, but an overall visual effect capturing changes in light and movement. The artists used short brush strokes and intense colours to convey a sense of bristling energy. Colours bleed into one another, creating a blur or shimmer of movement.

Not unlike watching Hawthorn play Port Adelaide en plein air really, with brown and gold stripes mixing with teal, white and black over a verdant green field and the crowd dotting the background: the quick ball movement, morphing bodies and polychromatic palette all combining to create a convergence of vivid colours and effervescent, vibrant action.  And that’s just the first five goals which came in an audacious brown and gold blur from Rough, Gunston, Savage, Lewis and Gunston again.

To complete the illusion, it had been raining heavily in Adelaide during the week and the surface of AAMI Stadium was nearly as damp underfoot as Monet’s famous pond.

Of course Monet did more than paint waterlilies and haystacks – here is his design for the new Hawthorn home strip.

A drink at The Linc

It was the day after my visit to the Monet exhibition and I was back at my old haunt, The Linc, for the Port v Hawthorn match.

Port’s recent resurgence after beating both Sydney and Collingwood, our flaky records at AAMI Stadium, Ken Hinkley in the box for Port – architect of many Geelong victories over Hawthorn in recent years, and no Sewell (dropped) or Buddy (injured), gave cause for unease going into this match. Even watching in a pub I felt as nervous and jittery as an Australian middle order batsman about face Jimmy Anderson or Graeme Swan.

The first quarter may have dispelled these nerves somewhat, with Hawthorn playing slick, clean footy to lead by 22 points at quarter time, but the second served to reinforce them as Port upped the tempo. Playing a quick, attacking game, Port moved the ball swiftly, spread well and created multiple scoring opportunities through Robbie Gray and Brad Ebert. Even Monfries was getting the ball. When Jay Schulz kicked truly, Port was within 4 points. And then Cyril hobbled off.  Time for another pot.

Happily Gunston snapped a nice, dare one say, ‘Buddyesque’ goal on his left to restore our advantage. Then The Rough took a strong mark and passed to Savage who kicked truly to stretch our lead to a slightly more comfortable 12 points at half time.

Not much has changed at The Linc. The bar staff seem surprised, even a little put out, to find you waiting to order a drink. And it being a fairly miserable afternoon outside, the lounge was gradually filling and little knots of people stood at the bar for minutes on end with no one being served.

And it’s not like staff are Gen Y’s busy texting, taking selfies or trying to advance to the next level of Candy Crush, they’re simply not around. Perhaps they’re just trying to recreate the genuine footy experience of making people wait five minutes to get a drink. One thing for sure, you certainly can’t accuse them of ignoring their obligations with respect to the responsible serving of alcohol.

“Nothing untoward there”

Despite this I secured a fresh pot and sat down to take in the third quarter. And it began with a bang, at least for Port’s Logan who was flattened by Burgoyne – a play that led to the opening goal of the quarter as hill kicked forward where Breust gathered, handballed to Cyril whose slick hands got it over to Smith who slammed it through.

Booooooo!
- photo: m.afl.com.au

It was difficult to tell if Burgoyne’s bump on Logan upset Port fans because they’d been booing him from the opening bounce for having the temerity to leave them – even though it was getting on to four years ago. The Snowtown killers would have received a better reception. Reports during the week from the Tour de France that spectators had sprayed urine on English rider Mark Cavendish to express their unhappiness over his part in a pile-up during the race for the line made me fear for what might befall Burgoyne before the end of the match. Luckily he was already wearing brown and yellow.

While no free kick was awarded at the time, Burgoyne ended up taking a two match ban for the incident. Tom Harley’s commentary after viewing the incident in replay was “Nothing untoward there; just good, solid contact from Burgoyne.”

If nothing else the aggression intensified after this, with Mitchell going down behind play. Stratton also went down, but this was through his own doing more than anything else. The Poo put it out in front of him in space.  Stratton gathered and ran towards an open goal, but his bounce went askew and as he bent to retrieve it, ducked into the knee of Wingard who had by then caught up to him. Stratton collapsed on top of the ball, making no attempt to dispose of it. Well, yes, he was unconscious, but even so…Amazingly however, the umpire paid Stratton the free kick. For in the back!

If Wingard touched his back, it was only after Stratton had been lying on the ball for several seconds. Being too groggy to take his kick, The Rough obligingly stepped in and duly slotted his third to give us a 24 point lead. You can imagine how graciously the Port fans took it.

Hamish’s homework

The most revealing part of the third quarter came soon after when Angus Monfries took possession on the forward line, duly panicked, and handballed to Boak who had Duryea right behind him. Our boy Duryea immediately brought Boak to ground and earned a free kick.

As ill-thought as Monfries’ handball was, Hamish McLachlan’s commentary was perhaps even worse. Trying to find an apt analogy to elucidate the action for viewers, Hamish delved into his considerable life experience, scanned his store of literary antecedents, turned over a few phrases in his mind to get a sense of their heft and tone, let his inner raconteur off the leash and expounded, “He was put under pressure. He was asked to write a really hard essay.”

‘Write a really hard essay!’ Hamish illustrating here that his grasp of metaphor is as unsure as that of a player trying to gather the Sherrin cleanly on the slippery surface.

It is perhaps also revealing of Hamish’s relative youth or an utter lack of incident in his life if the greatest sense of pressure he can imagine is that of doing his homework. Has he heard of Afghanistan?

The remainder of the quarter was string of Hawks goals: Rough for his fourth, Gunston, Simpkin and Smith giving us a handsome 37 point lead at the final break.

Boooooooo!

The final quarter was largely uneventful once Hodge dribbled through the quarter’s opening goal to establish a 40+ point lead.

Two noteworthy points however; Hodge in particular, but really the entire team, exerted exceptional pressure (like having to write a really hard essay) and created multiple turnovers through smothers or interceptions.

Also with each free kick to Hawthorn (and admittedly, we did receive a few), the booing extended from Burgoyne to the umpires, to such a degree that it almost became white noise. I thought the umpires’ only chance of survival might be to seek asylum in Ecuador.

Savage kicked our 19th and final goal for the match after a strong mark 50 out. This was his third to go with Smith’s three and Gunston and Roughead’s respective bags of five each.  Our 45 point victory was fairly convincing and gave predictable rise to chatter about us being better, or at least as good, without Buddy. Seriously, what nonsense. If you lined up the Hawthorn team and went pick for pick as per the longstanding school selection formula, Buddy would be picked among the top four with Hodge, Mitchell and Roughead every time. To suggest that we’re better off without Buddy is like saying that Monet’s oeuvre is better off without waterlilies.


Final scores: Hawthorn 19 10 124  d  Port Adelaide 12 7 79


What we learned: At the NGV I read with interest the plaque explaining that late in his life Monet suffered from cataracts which “diluted contrasts in his vision and filtered it through a yellow-brown film...” Much like my own vision really. I’ve been seeing life through a yellow-brown film for years. I thought this simply reflected my Hawthorn bias; I didn’t realise it was a medical condition. Lucky one of our major sponsors is a health care fund.

Round 15 - Geelong v Hawthorn

Saturday 6 July, MCG

#notagain  #groundhogday11 #evenafuckingbritcanwinwimbledonwhilewestillcantbeatgeelong

My God, it’s come to this – a fucking British player has won Wimbledon and the Hawks still can’t beat Geelong. The fact that he’s actually Scottish is of very little consolation. At this rate the Socceroos will win the World Cup before we can beat the Cats.

I wonder how Robbo from the Herald-Sun would see it. The great scribe who wrote of Jobe Watson: “He is not a drug cheat, but he could be found guilty of drug cheating” might furrow his brow in philosophical contemplation, unsheathe his quill and inscribe on his parchment with great flourish something along the lines of, “Hawthorn can beat Geelong, but they’ll go down in history as not having beaten them.”

Bill Murray in Groundhog Day
- as synonymous now with Hawks v Cats
as Mitchell or Bartel
- photo miditeticket.com

Andy Murray - like Bill Murray, now
part of Hawks-Cats folklore
- photo: mirror.co.uk

Mathematically possible

It’s Round 15, that time of year when teams sitting two or even three games outside the eight, like Carlton and Adelaide, start to talk in terms of it being mathematically possible for them to make the finals. At Hawthorn we think that way about Geelong; it's mathematically possible to beat them, we just can't beat them. We've examined it from every perspective and see that we can beat them in just about every way; theoretically, geographically, historically, economically, scientifically, ethically, romantically…just not actually.

But it is mathematically possible. In 2011 we finished third; in 2012 we finished second, so you can see the numerical sequence taking shape here: in 2013 we’ll finish first. To do this we must beat Geelong at some point, so in this sense at least, it’s mathematically possible.

Historically possible

As we trudged from the G to Flinders Street after the match, my son asked if we’d ever been to a match and seen us defeat Geelong.

“Of course!” I scoffed, then had to try and think if in fact we had indeed revelled in such an occasion (he hadn’t been able to join me at the 08 Grand Final). “Once upon a time…” and I launched into the tale about:

Round 22 2006 – neither team had any chance to make the finals, Geelong having blown their chance the previous week, and the Hawks  rolled them by 61 points, with Buddy kicking a stunning goal in one of his early outings for us.

This got me thinking about other great Hawthorn triumphs over Geelong...

Round 4 2007 – just before Geelong’s famed run of wins in 2007 that resulted in a drought-breaking premiership, we knocked them off by 4 points at Kardinia Park – they've never invited us back.

Harford -
 kicked the winner in 99

Round 7 2002 – We hold Gary Ablett to just 7 disposals – admittedly it is only his third game – and the Hawks turn in one of their best performances of the year to win by 52 points at the G.

Round 6 1999 – undermanned and out of form, the Hawks again defeat the more fancied Cats at Kardinia Park when Daniel Harford snaps the winning goal.

Second-semi final 1991 – The Hawks dominate the first quarter but kick 3.11 to 2.1. Geelong takes over in the second half with Gary Ablett Snr starring, until Darren Jarman slots the winner from the boundary line, the ball bouncing into my arms after going through. Tragically, Morrissey (the English singer that is, not no. 35 for the Hawks) cancels his show for later that night at Festival Hall.

Round 6 1989 – The Hawks trail by 49 points at half-time, but inspired by Brereton, Ayres, Buckenara, Platten and Dunstall, storm home to win by 8 points in one of the greatest games of all time. The only game that comes close for the year is the Grand Final between the same teams that Hawthorn won by 6 points.

Round 22 1987 – The final round of the season. Geelong needs to win to make the finals and they lead all day, until the final minute when Dunstall takes two marks, kicks two goals and the Hawks prevail by 3 points to knock them out of the finals.

Round 21 1986 – The Hawks lead by 3 points at half time in an even contest, then kick 25 goals to 3 in the second half (12 in the third quarter and 13 in the fourth) to win by win by 135 points with Dunstall kicking 9.

Round 12 1985 – The notorious Matthews/Bruns match – Mark Jackson takes it in turns to beat up the Hawthorn backline, then Matthews hits Bruns and is the first VFL player charged by the police for an on field action. Hawks by 29 points!

'Bomber' Hendrie
- kicked the winner in 78

Round 21 1978 – John Hendrie bounces one through from 40 to put the Hawks in front by 2 points and Gary “I touched it!” Malarkey earns his nickname.  Cheer Squad leader Spiro gets hauled off by the police for throwing cut-up paper.

Oh, and there was also the 1989 and 2008 Grand Finals as well!

So it is at least historically possible for us to beat Geelong and even if we don’t achieve that again in my lifetime, perhaps one of my sons or one of their sons will live long enough to see us beat them.

Same old same old 

This match was over fairly early, with the Cats taking the early advantage and kicking away to a good lead. The good thing about this is that we don’t have to sit there grinding our teeth waiting to be overrun. And although we held them for two quarters, we couldn’t actually score ourselves – goals that is.

Two defeats ago I posited that our inability to beat Geelong was a pathological condition, that it was actually Hawthorn who defeated themselves, and not necessarily the result of anything Geelong was doing. An inventory of our misses from set shots on Saturday backs up this hypothesis:  Hale, Roughead, Hodge, Franklin, Breust. Now I love Breeuuust, but has he ever kicked a set shot goal against Geelong?

The third quarter was particularly mistake-ridden, with both sides missing targets, fumbling and shanking kicks. The teams kicked just 1.10 between them. There may well have been enormous pressure out there and perhaps the conditions were difficult – though it was difficult to tell from my comfy position in the Hugh Trumble Bar – but you couldn’t help thinking that if these were the two best sides, then how bad were the remaining 16? Cyril’s return after several weeks off was really the only highlight of the quarter.

Despite being well out of it all night (4.11 at 3/4 time!) we mounted our usual late flurry and slotted five goals in nine minutes – the fourth courtesy of an interchange free kick to Hale – to get within a few points. There are reports the interchange free kick was actually a mistake, but I don’t think so. It may not have been correct, but I suspect the umpires paid it as part of some larger, perverse agenda of wanting to see us come agonisingly close yet again.

The main talking point of the final quarter was when Joel Corey knocked himself out. I assume he’ll be cited for unduly rough play for his tackle on Mitchell. Geelong fans at the ground seemed to find Mitchell at fault, even though he was the one taken down from behind and pulled backwards. But of course if Geelong fans were able to discern between right and wrong, they wouldn’t be Geelong fans in the first place. I’m not ruling out that Corey staged the whole thing to stop the game. After all, we had the ball and the momentum at that point…and he was fine in the rooms after the match, singing the team song, joining in the warm down, enjoying a glass of red wine, lighting up a big Cuban.

Sweet submission 

Rihanna, like Hawthorn, likes to be dominated.
Is that our clash strip she's wearing?
- photo: collapseboard.com

All of the media blather about the Kennett curse and the Cats pact simply serves to mask what might be the real reason behind this protracted sequence of narrow losses to Geelong that now stretches to 11 – we love it! We get off on it. In fact the closer the loss, the more erotically charged. As I type this, Clarko is probably still writhing about in a lather of arousal after we again got within two goals.

Human sexuality is a mysterious phenomenon, unique and diverse; some men like Asian chicks in Hawthorn gear, while others like Scandinavian chicks in Hawthorn gear – who can fathom such binaries? Who can really explain their own preferences, let alone someone else’s? One man’s predilection is another man’s peccadillo as they say; some crave a caress while others take their pleasure through pain.

And just as some people like to crawl around the floor wearing an adult nappy with a studded leather bridle in their mouth, Hawthorn gets off by taking it roughly from Geelong and narrowly losing a match we should win.

In BDSM (bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism) lore, there are three roles, the master or mistress (top), the submissive or sub (bottom) and the switch, someone who likes to swing between the roles of dominance and subservience – just like Luke Hodge really.

Hawthorn takes the submissive or bottom role in these BDSM sessions – submitting to Mistress Geelong and taking our orders from her. She exerts her feline wiles and extends her sharp claws to demonstrate her expertise in the dark erotic arts of punishment, discipline and humiliation. Just how we like it. Being under their control and experiencing pleasure through the discomfort, pain and suffering inflicted on us.

Anyone familiar with the type of BDSM practices enacted in any dungeon worthy of the name will recognise much of what took place between Hawthorn and Geelong on Saturday night. Buddy was engaging in wrestling most of the night, I think Joel Corey was trying to tie up Mitchell in some sort of human bondage act (he just didn’t utter his ‘safe’ word in time), our forward line were enjoying being ‘smothered’ and who knows what was going on in some of those packs – spanking, trampling, queening?

Scan the menu of services available at The Correction Centre and you’ll see that guests have a choice of not only golden showers, but also brown showers. Now it doesn’t take a particularly perverse imagination or diverse dalliance to understand what this means – and we’ve been taking the football equivalent for five years now. The only possible explanation I can come up with is that we must love it, can’t get enough of it in fact, otherwise why do we keep doing it? It’s about time we ‘switched’.


Final scores: Geelong 11 16 82  d  Hawthorn 10 12 72


What we learned: The torrent of Twitter abuse levelled at the winner of the Wimbledon women’s title, Marion Bartoli, for being arguably less attractive than her opponent, Sabine Lisicki, or “not a looker” in the words of BBC commentator John Inverdale, tells us, that sports fans are shallow and fixated on some absurd notion of a ‘beautiful ideal’ and that sports fans on Twitter are even worse than sports people on Twitter #whatisitwithyoupeople? On the other hand, it is perhaps recognition of what constitutes the beautiful ideal that explains Hawthorn’s strong membership and big crowds.


What we already knew: Hawthorn and Geelong is surely now the premier fixture in the AFL season, a point voted on by the football public this weekend, with 85,197 people turning up to watch, compared to the measly 78,224 who turned up to watch the previous night's clash between 'traditional rivals' Carlton and Collingwood.

Sam Mitchell is a superstar and was great on Saturday night. Our best chance of winning big games comes when he has the ball. If GWS knew anything about football, they'd be chasing him instead of Buddy.

Between the Rounds - Kennett's Other Curse

"The Devil takes the wheel of the Cadillac,
and Jeff climbs in the back"
'Deanna' - Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
- photo: heraldsun.com

Much has been made of Jeff Kennett’s pronouncement on the eve of the 2009 season that Geelong didn’t have the mental toughness to defeat Hawthorn in big games. Predictably we haven’t beaten them in any of our 10 meetings since, finding any number of ways to lose in the last minute, including twice with the very last kick, in what has become known as Kennett’s curse.

Of course the more oxygen breathed into the notion of the Kennett curse, the more potency we grant to Jeff Kennett’s pronouncements, and the more he’ll feel vindicated to keep making them. Reason enough then to defeat Geelong at last and end the ‘curse’.

Less known, however, is Kennett’s other curse. After winning the 2008 premiership, Jeff Kennett, in exuberant celebratory mode, and possibly under the influence of a particularly ripe herbal tea, announced that Hawthorn would never trade any players from the 2008 premiership side.

Since then though, the players who represented Hawthorn that day have been slowly disappearing, one by one off the list. Of the 22 players selected to represent Hawthorn on that glorious day, 11 of them, exactly half, are no longer with the club; either traded, debilitated or delisted. And of those who were traded to other clubs, none have performed at a level anything like their premiership heroics, and many of them have been afflicted by career interrupting injury or loss of form. What's happened to them?

self-harm - part of the curse?

Shane Crawford – retired

Stephen Gilham – traded to GWS

Trent Croad – retired through injury

Mark Williams – traded to Essendon, never to play a half decent game again

Brent Renouf – traded to Port Adelaide (oh the inhumanity!), rarely plays

Campbell Brown – traded to Gold Coast Suns, has been suspended for nearly as many games as he’s played.

Stuart Dew – retired

Chance Bateman – retired through injury

Robert Campbell – retired through injury

Rick Ladson – retired

Clinton Young – left for Collingwood under free agency – has been injured ever since.

If you include the emergencies for that day; Tom Murphy (delisted), Simon Taylor (delisted) and Travis Tuck (delisted), that’s 14 of 25 that are no longer with us.

Oh my god, what's happened to him?

Despite Jeff Kennett’s grand familial gesture, the team that won on that famous day has been gradually dismantled until it bears very little resemblance to the current side. In fact only seven members of that premiership team will be out there tonight.

So while everyone is focused on the Kennett curse relating to match results, are we perhaps overlooking an equally sinister Kennett pronouncement that has seen fit, young men with bright futures drop one by one; some succumbing to mysterious career ending injuries, others to irreversible form slumps, one to GWS and in one particularly tragic case, a player becoming so brain-addled he elected to go to Collngwood, where he has since been incapacitated?

Is this the other Kennett curse? A curse so virulent it strikes down men in their prime and casts them off; takes them from the comfort of Hawthorn’s bosom and forsakes them in the wilderness. A curse that robs them of their futures and condemns them to the badlands of retirement or worse, Port Adelaide.

We must find a way to reverse these curses and end the evil influence of their instigator. And quickly, because among the players left are Franklin, Hodge, Mitchell, Roughead, Lewis, Rioli and Sewell. We need a fix before the curse strikes them.

On a side note, Geelong has nine players from the side that lost in 2008 playing tonight, 10 if you count Josh Hunt who is an emergency for the match.

And of Hawthorn’s line-up tonight, nine players have never played in a side that has defeated Geelong, though admittedly one of them is ex-Cat Simpkin. There are possibly others too, depending on whether Gunston, Gibson, Lake, Hale or Burgoyne played in winning teams against Geelong with their former clubs.

Let's hope they get the chance tonight. Go Hawks!

Round 14 - Hawthorn v Brisbane Lions

Sunday 30 June, Aurora Stadium Launceston 

Women's round...boys' weekend

I am woman…

Subbed off: Gillard dons the red subs vest
photo: news.com.au

Considering that indigenous round served only to expose the blatant racism still endemic in our society, it’s only fitting that we should commence women’s round by deposing Australia’s first female Prime Minister.

And even though Julia Gillard is a Bulldogs fan (talk about setting yourself up for failure), it’s still a step up from being a rugby fan. Say what you like about Gillard, at least for a few years we had a PM with an understanding of what’s really important in life…football!

The fact that the Dogs went down to the Demons on Saturday night must have capped off the week perfectly for her. You wonder what was the more soul destroying and humiliating loss – the prime ministership to Rudd or the football to the Demons.

…hear me roar

Last week the Lions kicked a goal after the siren to win the match. Ashley McGrath playing his 200th game marked on the siren and went back and slotted the ball from 50 metres to defeat the Cats. What Hawks fan didn't smirk as the ball sailed through and Lions players piled on top of each other in celebration while the Cats looked about in disbelief and trudged off after giving up a 53 point lead?

Who didn't scan the background in the hope of catching a glimpse of Tom Hawkins’ expression and delight in his disappointment? Not even the thought that we had to play the Lions this week could hide my satisfaction at the outcome.

Then, as it happens, the Lions had another post-siren kick this week that would see them snatch victory. Another long kick on which rode the fortunes of the match and the hopes of thousands of visiting fans who had traversed oceans to be there. This time, however, the ball fell short and the Wallabies took it out of play to secure victory.

Of course I’m referring here to the British and Irish Lions, not the native Brisbane breed, who were never going to get close to the Hawks. For a start it was going to take them a quarter or so to thaw out in Launceston, by which time we'll have established a match winning lead. That’s how I saw it panning out anyway. And I had to imagine it because once again I was on a plane for the best part of the match.

How do you like them apps?

Hawthorn premiership hero Campbell Brown
holidays on the Gold Coast

I’d spent the weekend on the Gold Coast on a boys' weekend where I saw the Gold Coast Suns play Adelaide, sat in an Irish pub to watch the Wallabies play the Lions, saw some of Geelong v Freo, caught a bit of Wimbledon and the opening night of the Tour de France as well as Coorparoo v Zillmere in the women’s under 18 competition, all of which were good in their own way – just don’t ask in which specific way Coorparoo v Zillmere was good – but none of which were entirely satisfying in the way that watching Hawthorn play is.

It’s ersatz sport, a poor simulacrum, like watching a tribute band (The Australian Doors show rather than The Doors) or voting for the ALP – you can do it, but there’s no emotional investment and no pay off, and in the case of the latter, you come out of it feeling just a little bit grubby.

So I sat through my two hour flight as impatiently as any voyeur seated in the stalls at Her Majesty’s waiting for Jerry Hall to disrobe in Act III of The Graduate. When I was finally able to flick on to the AFL app I saw that we held a reasonably comfortable 44 to 21 lead two thirds of the way through the second quarter.

But five minutes later the score still stood at 44-21, and no amount of prodding could move it along. And throughout the ride on the courtesy bus back to the car the score still stood at 44-21. What was going on down there? Or more precisely, not going on. According to the app it wasn’t half-time, yet neither team were scoring. Was there a ground invasion? Had enraged Hawthorn fans taken Buddy hostage and held up the game until he signs a new contract? Or was it just that the AFL app wasn’t working? It was a desperate and frustrating situation, worse than Jerry Hall’s zip getting stuck on the way down.

A scroll of goals

My phone sounds a series of percussive pips when a text message comes through. It had been on for approximately 15 minutes since landing when it suddenly erupted in a drum solo of beats as Chan-Tha’s texts piped through in a manic burst like a batch of popcorn. It was like the birth of techno in my pocket.
And there at last was the updated story laid out in a happy scroll of goals.

Lewis got our first from a free kick for in the back.

Buddy got a behind…standard Buddy

Just messed up a certain goal

Gunston goal. Hawks 15-7

25-8. Pete can’t believe we’re not thrashing them

38-8. Go Hawks

44–14 – seem a bit flat

Great goal by Buddy outside 50m

Even better one by Buddy a minute later!! 

57-35 half time

Okay so that’s an advance on the app score, but my calculation of game time suggested there was still a lag between text time and the actual time. Another staccato burst from my phone and the follow-up texts came through.

Ellis subbed out for Simpkin

Gibbo fell on his head & Shiels off the ground

Lions coming back!

I sensed the panic in her texting thumb.

By this stage I’d picked up the car and the commentators on the radio were talking in reassuring tones about Hawthorn turning it on in a quick burst. Judging by the relaxed chatting of the commentary team, it was evidently three quarter time in real time and whatever our cause for alarm, it had clearly diminished.

When they eventually gave the score of 15.15 to 7.7, I was able to relax with only a momentary thought that the Lions had come back from a similar position the previous week to win. But surely not again.

And so it proved. I listened to the final quarter time as Chan-Tha’s texts continued to pipe through:

Savage goal

Buddy lining up for goal

Got it!

Savage 3 goals!

Another happy win – our twelfth in succession to equal a club record from 1961. And only arch nemesis Geelong standing in the way of setting a new record next week. No problem then.

The good news coming out of the match is that Gibson is okay. His heavy fall looked horrific, but happily there are no scars...his looks remain intact. With Buddy potentially leaving, we need Gibbo more than ever to model our hawk couture in the Hawks Nest catalogue.


Final scores: Hawthorn 21 17 143  d  Brisbane 12 13 85


What we learned: That the AFL hasn't learned. The lesson of Football Park in Adelaide and VFL Park in Melbourne is that stadiums need to be built near public transport. If you want people to be able to get to them that is. So as good as Mtricon stadium is, it's in the middle of nowhere and virtually impossible to get to. 


What we already knew: Jobe Watson admits to taking a banned performance enhancing drug. The surprising thing is that he still played the following Friday. In what other sport can you admit to taking a banned drug and still compete? Even the World Cycling Federation don't let cyclists do that.

Our favourite footy quote last week comes from Herald-Sun journo Mark 'Robbo' Robinson, who wrote on Wednesday regarding Jobe Watson’s admission that he took a banned, performance enhancing substance: "He is not a drug cheat, but he could be found guilty of drug cheating."

Now I don’t pretend to be an expert in the legal nuances surrounding this issue, but you could argue that the very definition of a drug cheat is someone who has been 'found guilty of drug cheating'. Or to put it more simply, Robbo, "ipso facto."

The consensus among football reporters is that Jobe shouldn’t be stripped of his Brownlow medal because he’s a 'top bloke'. Were he not a 'top bloke', of course, it would presumably be different. One wonders what Ben Cousins makes of it all: banned for a year for bringing the game into disrepute, largely because he could go on a bender and still front up and pick up 40+ disposals. There's as much to admire there as condemn.

And Lance Armstrong was widely admired for his charity work before his admission. It's possible to be a drug cheat and a top bloke.

The question is not should he be stripped of his Brownlow, but what sort of public ceremony should accompany it. I favour Brownlow night this year. Rather than Jobe present the 2013 winner with the medal, as is the custom, invite Cotchin and Mitchell to the stage to tear it from his neck.