Round 5 - Geelong v Hawthorn

MCG, Monday 21 April 2014

Football Royalty

The Royal Tour continues to make its way inland with William, Kate and baby Prince George touring through Brisbane, Sydney, Canberra, Adelaide and Uluru.  The fact that they are not visiting in Melbourne is being seen in many circles as a snub, but with Hawthorn scheduled to play Geelong on Easter Monday, we had our own footy royalty in town. Between the two teams, that’s 10 or 12 of the best footballers in the country on the same field at the same time, and with Geelong’s Jimmy Bartel among them, there’s even someone as cute as the baby Prince.

You’ll note that aside from Adelaide, they are only visiting rugby cities, which simply confirms their lack of understanding of Australian culture and underlines the urgent need for us to become a republic. I saw footage of the couple at a rugby match, and it wasn’t hard to spot them in a crowd of about 500 people who are interested enough to watch rugby, unlike the droves that turn up to watch now traditional Easter Monday clash between the Hawks and the Cats.

As for the game it was nothing unexpected, at least as far as the result went, as again, we didn’t get the chocolates.

Football Royalty

WALKER!

Now I don’t want to be picky, but isn’t there a rule that dictates that only players who are named in the starting line-up can actually take the field? I know there’s a cut-off point, whether it is an hour before the bounce or 15 minutes I don’t know, but surely you can’t just bring on some new bloke for the final quarter.  Well that’s what Geelong did - some bloke wearing number 34 with the name ‘Walker’ stencilled across the back was pulling down marks and slotting goals from everywhere in the final quarter. Kyle Cheney battled well against Tom Hawkins for the first three quarters, but all of a sudden he had a new opponent with whom he was less able to quell.

Based on this I’ve been assuming that the AFL would reverse the result on a technicality - not that we necessarily want to win that way, but it might be the only way we can beat Geelong in a Home & Away game.

It transpired that ‘Walker’ was indeed Hawkins. He simply required a change of guernsey after Wil Langford ripped the original in a wardrobe malfunction incident similar to Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson - with the probable exception that people were less keen to see Hawkins’ exposed breast than Ms Jackson’s.

Magical Realism

The literary world was saddened during the week by the death of Colombian writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the father of ‘magical realism’.

Magical realism is a literary genre in which fantastical elements are introduced into a mundane, realistic environment in such a way that they appear perfectly natural. Characters, and by extension the audience, accept as normal magical events such as telepathy, levitation and telekinesis - sort of like watching Cyril Rioli tapping the ball through a pack of players and emerging on the other side with ball in hand to kick a goal.

The magical-realist world is an environment where the natural and the supernatural co-exist as equals. Marquez’s most well-known book, and arguably, the seminal work of magical realism is One Hundred Years of Solitude, which may sound like the story of the Western Bulldogs, but is not nearly so depressing.

Marquez’s death wasn’t an event that had football teams donning black armbands of respect, but I was hoping that the likes of Rioli, Suckling and Breust might add a magical overlay to the gritty realism provided by Mitchell, Hodge and Lewis in the centre.

As we now know, that didn’t come to pass, but it was a game that had a sprinkling of magical-realism aspects - Hawthorn’s outfit for a start. Dressing up big, rugged footballers in gold tops, white shorts and gold socks is an ensemble that even Marquez didn’t think would wash with the reading public.
There was a nice novelistic touch when Travis Varcoe kicked the first goal of the game from about the same distance as the shot he missed to tie the scores in the 2013 Preliminary final. Then there was the strange case of hapless Hawkins transforming himself into match-winner Walker simply by changing jumpers - and seemingly identity - at three quarter time. This scene could even have come from a magical-realist text; take a hulking duffer with a foppish hair style, give him a new jumper with someone else’s name on it and all of a sudden he turns into a gifted, athletic sharp-shooter.

Beyond these elements though, the match was almost noteworthy for lacking much magic at all. Cyril Rioli had only a handful of disposals; Matthew Suckling, the best kick in the competition, completely duffed his first three, even Brad Hill got caught with the ball. It was that sort of match: tough, intense and bruising. Geelong’s mercurial Stevie Johnson was best on ground, but even his performance owed more to gritty realism and doing normal things well than relying on his trademark magical touches.

Geelong seemed to hold the edge for much of the match and remained marginally in front throughout. They were a little more assured with the ball, they tackled well and blanketed Hawthorn’s potential match winners Rioli and Roughead. They also took a succession of strong contested marks throughout the game.  I even found myself involuntarily applauding some of them.

Despite this, Hawthorn was still within striking distance at the final break. Indeed, when Breust and Gunston kicked the opening goals of the final quarter, we were in front.  Gunston had another set shot minutes later to give us an even six point lead…but missed. And with that went our chances, as Geelong added three goals in the next five minutes to effectively end the match. Mitch Hallahan, playing his first game for Hawthorn and wearing no. 38 (the same number, incidentally, that Buddy wore when he first played), came on as a sub in the final quarter and even kicked a consolation goal towards the end of the game.

In the end a 19 point margin pretty much reflected the difference in the teams on the day. Observing the game in hindsight, most commentators agreed that Alastair Clarkson should have moved Cheney from Hawkins, given that Hawkins’ final quarter tally was pretty much the final margin, but the reality is that at three quarter time, Hawkins had just 2 goals and Cheney was playing quite well. Besides, to move him would have simply meant he would need to man someone even taller. Basically, with Brian Lake, Matt Spangher and Ryan Schoenamakers out injured, we were just lacking a tall defender. Even so, I thought young defender Taylor Duryea played one of his best games for the Hawks.



Final scores: Geelong 15 16 106 d Hawthorn 12 15 87

Ladder position - 3rd

Attendance 80,222



What we learned: that Julie Bishop is channelling Lady Di. Our Foreign Minister was waiting on the tarmac to greet the royal couple when they arrived in Canberra, and although I can’t lip-read, I can only assume that her subservient tittering was all part of her telling William about how she has kept alive his mother’s hair style for the past 25 years.

  

What we always knew: orange fluro boots and plain gold socks make as hideous a combination as you might expect. Add in white shorts and the all-gold back of the jumper and you have one of our least attractive outfits. There was a reason we brought back the hoops on our hose and the stripes on the back of the jumper – they look better. Hawthorn’s decision to mark the 25th anniversary of the 1988/89 back-to-back premierships by wearing the kit worn in the 80s days would have made more sense on a day when we were wearing brown shorts, as indeed we wore for both of those Grand Finals.

What we’re resorting to: Hawthorn’s desperation to defeat Geelong has reached alarming levels. My Hawk friend Jason pointed out to me a pre-match article on hawthorn.com titled, “Guns added to squad for Easter Monday.” Guns! I know we need all the armaments we can get, but isn’t that taking it a little too far?


Why we should be thankful for Geelong: Our inability to defeat Geelong annoys me as much as anyone. Naturally enough I transmute this exasperation into utter hatred for all things Geelong. It’s nothing personal; it’s just the way it is. In my more objective moments, however, I express secret gratitude for Geelong. Remember what football was like in 2005 and 2006, with the Swans and the Eagles turning every match into an exercise in backline flooding – when 10 goals would win you most games – when Paul Roos, Ross Lyon and John Worsfold tried to bore their way to premierships. It was only thanks to Geelong’s relentless play-on game that brought skill and athleticism back to the game. We’d be watching virtual rugby by now if it wasn’t for Mark Thompson and the great Geelong team of 2007.



Good Friday football: One of the great traditions on the AFL calendar is the annual Easter debate over whether there should be football scheduled on Good Friday.  The debate has heated up this year with Andrew Demetriou, a long-time opponent of Good Friday football, announcing that he is stepping down at the end of the season.

The clubs seem to have picked up the Sherrin shaped Easter egg and run with it. Club chairpersons and presidents are all busy bickering among themselves about which clubs should host football on this day.

As a non-practicing Christian, okay atheist then, and only casual donor to the Royal Children’s Hospital Good Friday appeal, I personally don’t care whether football is played or not played on Good Friday. I have no religious sensibilities to offend and can’t see how a game of football could adversely impact the annual hospital appeal. On a weekend with three days of football already – effectively four given that a match is scheduled for the Thursday night before Good Friday – I can take or leave footy on one day of a four day weekend.  I don’t care whether they play a match or not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion about who should and shouldn’t play.

James Brayshaw from North Melbourne is at the forefront of the push for football on Good Friday and seems to believe that North has some pre-ordained right to host a match on this day. He has tied his argument to the Good Friday appeal, saying that because the Royal Children’s hospital is located in Flemington, which is sort of between North Melbourne and Carlton, then it stands to reason that North should play Carlton on that day. So there’s a geographical imperative apparently. In the next breath he talked about the need for big clubs to play on that day, which essentially rules out North Melbourne anyway, given their modest membership base. North Melbourne’s Easter Saturday clash with Collingwood this week, the biggest drawing club in the competition, attracted a crowd of just 57,116 people. Based on that, I can’t imagine why he thinks North v Carlton would get more than 30,000 on Good Friday.

With 18 teams who could potentially play each other on that day, there are 162 possible combinations the AFL could schedule. Of those 162, you could argue that North Melbourne and Carlton, two teams who last troubled the top four at the same time somewhere around the turn of the century, would be among the least attractive fixtures from either a crowd or a football perspective.

Of course no argument about blockbuster fixturing is complete without Eddie McGuire weighing in. He too is calling for big clubs to play and unsurprisingly sees Collingwood as a natural fit. After all, they only have ANZAC Day and the Queen’s Birthday set aside for their matches, so we may as well stick with the theme. Essendon too are claiming rights to Good Friday. Perhaps Collingwood and Essendon could play each other on Good Friday and follow it up a week later with a return clash on ANZAC day?

All of these club presidents only seem to advocate for big Victorian teams? Adelaide is a big club. So is West Coast. Why shouldn’t they play? And is there some reason why it must be the same two teams every year - what would be so wrong with different match-ups, like ANZAC Day used to be.

Age football writer, Caroline Wilson, is on the other side of the argument, using her ‘Arrow’ segment on Footy Classified last week to call for no games to be scheduled on Good Friday because it is “tradition” to not have football on this day. This argument makes even less sense than Brayshaw’s or McGuire’s. Can something be a ‘tradition’ on the basis that it has never happened? Using this logic, it is a tradition that Hawthorn can’t defeat Geelong in a Home & Away game, but hey, we just might one day.

Round 4 - Gold Coast Suns v Hawthorn

Hawthorn Beach Party 

Round 4
Gold Coast v Hawthorn
Metricon Stadium, Saturday 12 April

The Hawks were off to the Gold Coast to play the Suns and although I couldn’t attend the match, I did my best to simulate the experience by going to Tootgarook on the Mornington Peninsula for the weekend. Sure the gentle lapping wavelets in Port Phillip Bay didn’t quite match the curling pipelines and majestic breakers of Surfers Paradise. Nor did the creaking Ghost Train and stalled dodgem cars of the Rye Foreshore funfair rival the thrill seeking exhilaration of Gold Coast’s Worlds. But to be honest, I’m not much of a beach person and I get a bit scared on fast rides, so I was quite happy just to take it easy and watch the game on television.

Showing a distinct lack of foresight, in describing Hawthorn’s commanding victory over Fremantle the previous week, I drew an analogy of Hawthorn cutting through Fremantle’s defensive flood like a team of uber cool goofy footing surfer dudes on boards. I even compared Hawthorn to bronzed skegs and cast Fremantle as our skeg molls whose sole reason for being was to wax our boards and fetch us Chiko Rolls. It seemed to fit the bill at the time, but a quick glance at the fixture in advance would have told me that I should hold back on the surfing analogy until this weeks’ game against the Suns on the Gold Coast.

So the problem is that I went a week too soon with the surfing analogy and it’s left me with nowhere to go this week. I used up my best stuff too early. Much like the Suns in this match actually. When Channel 7 ran its ‘Best Stuff’ anthology of weekend footy highlights the next day, the only bits from the Hawthorn v Suns game that made the cut were Jaeger O’Meara’s goal – the opening goal of the game – and Sam Day’s mark, both of which happened in the first five minutes. The Suns barely rated a highlight after that, but anyone watching this Channel 7 highlights package alone might have thought they’d won.

I thought it was bit rough that none of Hawthorn’s 23 goals were deemed worthy enough to make the package – not even Gunston’s soccer volley from the line between the goal and point posts – but perhaps I’m just being picky and parochial.

Anyway, having used the surfing analogy last week, I’ve been casting about for another theme associated with the Gold Coast to add colour to my description of the match. Theme park rides presented an obvious possibility, but this fell down due to how the match panned out. A roller coaster, for example, might be a useful analogy for a match in which fortunes fluctuated, where a team struggled through tough periods akin to climbing a steep incline, only to then hit the peak and race away with a burst of exhilarating, hair-raising speed, before again encountering a tight angle or another slow climb. But such a description has no relation to what transpired in this match. Basically the Hawks hit the first ascent quickly and then the carriage simply took off in a thrilling, adrenaline-charged rush of sustained speed and regular goals that lasted until the end of the match. No such roller coaster exists in which there is only one short climb at the beginning, followed by a long, uninterrupted flight to the finish.

Without surfing and theme parks to work with, the only other cultural event synonymous with the Gold Coast on which I might draw is schoolies week, and although Hawthorn wore tight, white shorts, glistened in the heat and played with liberal ease, free from any sort of restraint, I think that’s where any sort of analogy might end. For a start I can’t explain the love-bites or vomiting, and even footballers on end-of-season trips don’t behave with the wanton and outlandish destructiveness of schoolies with fizzing hormones and electrified libidos – well except for Campbell Brown perhaps, and the Suns had ended his career after just such an exhibition in LA over summer.

So free from any form of artificial scaffolding then, we can just get on with the looking at the match.

Sun block

The Suns started brightly and O’Meara kicked a good goal after winning the ball from Matt Spangher, but then the Hawks piled them on: Gunston, Roughead, and Sam Mitchell. From one centre bounce Mitchell won the ball, handballed to Rough who banged it long where Cyril took a great mark and goaled. It was a perfect illustration of how simple footy can be once you stop banging on about game plans, pressure acts, structures and set plays. Of course it helped that Mitchell, Roughead and Cyril were involved.

The first quarter was relatively even, although watching it you felt the Hawks always had the edge and seemed to be pacing themselves. Even so, at 6.4 to 4.4, the commentary team of BT, Darce, Richo and Lingy were not entirely out of place talking up the Suns’ chances.  

The second quarter was bookended by Gunston’s miraculous volley goal from an improbable, if not impossible, angle at the start of the quarter, and just before half-time, a trademark Matt Suckling left-foot kick that tracked low and fast like tracer fire to land right on the goal line. Perfect. Two kicks that might have scored nothing from lesser feet had helped give the Hawks a decisive break.

At half-time the commentary team were still peddling the official line that the match was anyone’s to win, but with the score at 11.7 to 6.4, their optimism seemed to have less of a solid foundation.
Darce piped in at one point to say that the Suns would be right back in this match if they were to string together four or five goals in a row. Which was true to a point, but given they’d barely strung together four to five passes in a row during the second quarter, it seemed more of a hopeful comment than one based on any sort of empirical data. It was a bit like observing that if mankind stopped using fossil fuels we might be able to reverse the effects of global warming. Yes, we might, but we won’t.

Then within the first minute of the third quarter, when Breust gave off an impossibly slick handball to Gunston in the goal square, any thought of a Suns revival was looking a bit delusional. The Hawks at this point seemed to grow weary of trying to score, and given the Suns couldn’t, the match entered a period of stasis. There was a long 15 minutes or so when neither side scored a goal until Brad Hill and Breust banged on two in quick succession.

Premature speculation

Such was the inaction that towards the end of the third quarter, Darce dared to wonder aloud if Hawthorn might go through the entire season undefeated. He even set up a viewer’s poll. Um, Darce, it’s Round 4 – there were still 18 games to go – including Geelong the following week. Now I know I can get ahead of myself sometimes with my Hawthorn fantasies – I’ve already suggested that we may as well leave the temporary flag pole standing at the MCG because we’ll be needing to unfurl another premiership pennant this time next season – but even I haven’t run ahead to that absurd degree. As far as fantasies go, there’s nearly as much chance of Hawthorn enjoying an undefeated season as there is of me participating in a three-way with The Block Twins, or with and Taylor Duryea. Did I say Duryea? Sorry, I meant Swift. Of the two options I’m not certain which has the more erotic appeal.

Roughead (twice), Jonathan Simpkin, Liam Shiels and Gunston - for his fifth - all goaled in a short space of time in the final quarter to keep themselves, and us, interested. The only matters of intrigue remaining were the final margin and which Hawthorn players had been best. In the end it was 99 points and I plumped for Mitchell, Lewis, Gunston, Burgoyne and Hill. It was another strong team performance and our undersized makeshift backline with Kyle Cheney and Taylor Duryea again played strongly.

Sometimes you don’t need to draw on analogy to illustrate an event or give it meaning; sometimes the raw spectacle is enough. And on this occasion watching Hawthorn in full flight was every bit as exciting and spine-tingling as riding a wave or a theme park ride. Nearly as good as schoolies week.


Final scores: Hawthorn 23. 10. 148  d  Gold Coast 7. 7. 49


What we learned: Brian Taylor, the man who gave us “BIG BASTARD GOAL!” when Isaac Smith steered through his 75 metre bomb in last year’s Grand Final came through with the goods again – this time coining the phrase “a dearth of depth” to describe Hawthorn’s seemingly ongoing talent pool. Intoned with the right amount of menace it sounds like an instrument of torture or a hardcore metal band.

Not to rest there, during the discussion on whether Hawthorn could go through the season undefeated, he said of our match against Geelong next week, “If we assume they get over that…” Now I know we defeated them last time we played, but given it was by only 5 points, and that we hadn’t beaten them on the 11 preceding occasions, it’s a bit like assuming that the Ukraine will hold off Russia’s evil empire.

What we already knew: Much was made before the game of the match up between Gary Ablett Jnr and Wil Langford, mirroring the famous match-ups between their respective fathers, Gary Snr and Chris in the 1980s and 1990s. Unsurprisingly perhaps, this contemporary head to head battle between Ablett, the best player in the AFL and Langford, playing in just his fourth game, was in no way reminiscent of the battles of their famous forbears, except perhaps that what the Langford genes may lack in natural football talent by comparison to the Ablett genes, they make up for it in the hair stakes.

Elsewhere: Carlton’s loss to lowly Melbourne, leaving them 0-4, and in a trough of self-reflection and recrimination has united the rest of the footy public in good cheer and bonhomie, in the same way that the United Nations must snigger as one when the USA creeps home in abject defeat from a foreign theatre of war.

Round 3 - Hawthorn v Fremantle

Hawthorn's Covenant

Round 3
Hawthorn v Fremantle
MCG, Friday 4 April 2014

The Great Freo Flood

Fremantle's defence takes position

In the trailer for the blockbuster movie epic, Noah, Russell Crowe intones in his deep sonorous voice that, “A great flood is coming”.  He might have been referring to Ross Lyon and Fremantle’s game plan as much as some form of divine retribution for earthly sins. For Fremantle’s much vaunted defence had been to the fore in its opening two games against Collingwood and Gold Coast, conceding only five goals in each.

But if Fremantle brought the flood, then Hawthorn brought their boards and simply surfed through the swell with its goofy footers hanging ten, gnarling, or whatever terms are current in surfie culture for easy command of the water. Freo meanwhile, was reduced to waxing our boards and procuring Chiko rolls for the Hawthorn skegs, such was our superiority. They were simply our skeg molls.

Mad Calf 

The scourge of Hawthorn

This is the second year in succession the Hawks have played a Grand Final rematch, and whereas last year against Sydney we had something to prove, this year, all of that angst and pressure was on Fremantle.

In the lead up to the match, some of the inevitable comparisons to the Grand Final dissipated due the large number of team changes on both sides. Hawthorn was missing seven players from the Grand Final side – essentially a third of the team – either through retirement, defection, suspension or injury. For this match Luke Hodge, Brad Sewell, Ben Stratton and Brian Lake were still out plus there was news before the bounce that Ben McEvoy was a late withdrawal with a calf complaint.

Calf soreness was said to also be hampering Brian Lake, and it had also kept Mitchell out of the previous game against Essendon. I was beginning to wonder why this plague had struck. Is there some sort of degenerative and contagious calf complaint sweeping through the club? Mad Calf disease perhaps?

Fremantle was also missing important players, Michael Barlow through injury, and Zac Dawson and Nat Fyfe through suspension. Fyfe’s suspension for a head clash with Gold Coast player Michael Rischetelli became the talking point and something of a controversy. Fyfe had bumped instead of tackled and had accidentally clashed heads with Rischetelli. As we know if you bump and make contact with the head, it’s an automatic suspension. It’s not a new rule – it’s no different to North’s Jack Ziebell last year or Buddy’s bump on Ben Cousins a few years ago. The only difference this time is that a number of media commentators clearly had money on Fyfe for the Brownlow and were miffed that they’d blown it.

It was no surprise that Dennis Cometti’s opening salvo on Channel 7’s telecast was a tirade against this rule and Fyfe’s suspension. I don’t recall him lambasting the AFL in this way over any other incident or rule, but dare remove one of the best players from a WA team and you’ll be subjected to the wrath of Dennis.

Personally, I agreed, but I also wasn’t too disappointed that Fyfe wasn’t playing.

Not only were there a number of personnel changes on the ground, but there were also some unexpected people lining up in the stands. Unusually, I was joined by my whole family. My eldest son Oscar was with me as normal, but making a surprise guest appearance was youngest son Declan, and even more bizarrely, my wife Angela. I think this was her first game since the 2008 Preliminary Final. We arrived just before the bounce, so I hadn’t heard the team news to this point, but her presence at the ground was still a bigger surprise than Jonathan Ceglar, who was in to replace McEvoy.

Like Noah before the flood, I was keeping my family together.

The Pantheon of Perfection

- Les Demoiselles d’Avignon by Picasso
- The Boatman’s Call by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
- The Beckett Trilogy
- Scarlett Johanssen’s face
- Rodin’s The Kiss
- The 2008 Grand Final
- Withnail and I
- Usain Bolt over 100 metres
- Leonard Cohen in concert
- Antony Sher’s Richard III

As beautiful as Hawthorn

This is a list of things I consider to be impeccable - my personal pantheon of perfection if you like. And you can now add to this list Hawthorn’s first half display against Fremantle on Friday night.

It was as flawless a display as you’re likely to get in a game involving 36 combatants, one of which is Kyle Cheney, a vast playing surface and a ball with an unpredictable bounce – and even that was going our way.

Hawthorn players gathered the ball cleanly in the open or in congested contests, backed-up their team mates, ran to space to present as options for the ball-carrier, and excelled in spoling, shepherding, precision passing, tap-ons and polished finishing. If you’d asked them to bring harmony to the Ukraine or reverse the effects of climate change they might just have been able to do it. It was a complete team performance; no better exemplified than our sixth goal just 16 minutes into the match and before the Dockers had even scored.

The Dockers took the ball forward where Hayden Ballantyne kicked to Ryan Crowley in the pocket. Crowley kicked inboard to Stephen Hill only for Spangher to spoil, Shiels gathered, handballed back to a running Spangher who kicked towards the wing where Rioli tapped it to Puopolo, who tapped back to a sprinting Rioli, now metres in the clear, who passed it to Breust, who executed a neat sidestep of Michael Johnson and popped it through. Sixteen minutes in and the score was 37-0.

The quarter had opened with Cyril taking the ball cleanly off a pack and scooting away to kick accurately. Then Roughead passed to Hale who marked and goaled, adding a nice touch to his 200th game. Next Roughead burrowed into a pack, collecting the ball on his way through, and kicked around the corner, with the ball turning so sharply on the bounce that it tumbled through for a goal. The Poo slammed through another goal after taking the ball from a stoppage, and then Birchall got one of his long, high, left footers to curl through.

Hawthorn’s ball movement was so deft and fluid it could have been choreographed by Graeme Murphy. Even the act of describing it in words is to reduce it, even sully it.

Fremantle did eventually score a goal in the first quarter – but only after an act of sympathy from the umpire who paid Matthew Pavlich a mark in the goal square that at least three other players had touched, some of them twice.

So far, so fabulous. I received a text from my friend Jason watching from Birmingham in the UK, commenting on the positive start and asking if it is “Hale-ing” at the G. Indeed it was, although I replied that it is Matt Spangher setting the crowd alight.

Six goals in the first quarter is more than either Collingwood or Gold Coast managed in their respective matches against the Dockers.

And then it all started again. Isaac Smith kicked two goals in the first two minutes of the second quarter, the first after taking a fantastic low slips catch in front of goal – the degree of difficulty heightened significantly by having a Fremantle defender literally grappling him.

The highlight of the second quarter came when Will Langford gathered the ball in the pocket and screwed his kick around his body and it bounced through for his first goal for the Hawks. The occasional Langford goal was always guaranteed to bring Hawks fans to their feet in the 80s, and here we were continuing the tradition with his son. Some things never become boring. At 10 goals to 2, it was officially a rout.

By half-time it was 12.5 to 2.8 and as I sipped my anxiety free Crown lager in the Hugh Trumble Bar at half-time I was mildly surprised we were only 57 points in front.

Fremantle’s two goals had both come from Pavlich, who was playing well, but even he must have been surprised, if not a little insulted, that Kyle Cheney was lining up on him. Significantly shorter in stature and natural talent, Cheney was still playing well, combining with Gibson, Duryea, Birchall and Spangher in defence to repel the occasional Dockers attack. Mitchell, Hill, Smith, Rioli, Lewis, Puopolo, Hale, Gunston, Breust; in fact every Hawthorn player was working hard and playing fast, thrilling football.

In the third quarter, Cyril flew high at the front of a pack to pull down a screamer, landed on the run and dashed around the pack to kick a brilliant goal. This happened right in front of where we were sitting, lending it even greater piquancy. There were more goals, including a two touch soccer goal to Breust, a couple to Gunston and at one point the lead reached 70 points, before the Hawks inevitably began to tire.

The Hawks rested on their laurels in the final quarter; as well they might, and still ran out easy winners by 58 points. We had twelve different goal kickers in the end, and such was the roll call I wouldn’t have been at all surprised had Damian Monkhurst heaved himself off the bench to pop one through.

Angela had been reasonably impressed with the Hawks, if a little bored with the game, but she had thrilled to see Cyril in action. You don’t have to be a football fanatic to recognise the beauty of Cyril in full flight. She seemed mildly surprised, however, when I was watching a recording of the game to hear the commentary team flinging about superlatives.

“Was I witness to something momentous?” she asked naively.

“Yes” I intoned, “nothing less than the dawn of a new type of football.”

"Oh" she said, and went back to her reading.

Noah preserved humanity and the animal kingdom by developing an ambitious sea-faring breeding program. At Hawthorn the work is beginning; we already have Will Langford, son of Chris, on the field, and coming through over the next 20 years or so we have a little Mitchell, Rioli, Hodge, Anderson, Hale, Burgoyne, Lake et al. Perhaps next year’s end of season trip should involve a cruise liner and invite the WAGs.

In the real story of Noah, it is a hawk that plays the key avian role 

Hawthorn 21.11.137  d  Fremantle 11.13.79

Ladder position: 2nd

Attendance: 43,583

Coleman watch: Luke Breust is equal leader with Nick Riewoldt on 10

What we learned: Hawthorn unfurled the 2013 premiership flag at beginning of match (again), and perhaps it’s too early to call it this year, but if the Hawks continue to play like they did on Friday night against the Dockers, then they may as well leave the makeshift flagpole up, because we’ll be coming back to unfurl another one this time next year.

What we already knew: Spanish historians claimed during the week to have located the Holy Grail.  What on earth are they on about, you might ask, for as any Hawks fan could have told them, the Holy Grail is on display at Waverley in Hawthorn’s trophy cabinet.

Hawthorn to Canberra?: I’m not suggesting that the team relocate, but there was news during the week that the ALP is seeking to change its membership rules to increase its current membership level above 44,000. According to hawthornfc.com, Hawthorn’s membership is currently 64,358 – that’s 20,000 more than the ALP and yet they were running the country up until last September. I’m not necessarily advocating a coup, but why stop at premiership domination? Andrew Newbold could be P.M., John Kennedy Snr Governor General, and I’m certain we could find a spot on the front bench, as opposed to the interchange bench, for Dermie and Dunstall.

N.B. Noah's Ark should not be confused with Buddy Franklin's natural arc.