Round 4 - West Coast v Hawthorn

Subiaco Oval - Saturday 21 April 2012

Raining points

When casting about for metaphors and pithy puns to describe football matches played in Perth, Melbourne based sub-editors often invoke the genre of great westerns with headings such as ‘How the West Was Won’ or ‘Wild Wild West’ to describe events. In TV coverage they play Morricone’s signature soundtrack to ‘The Good the Bad and the Ugly’ to underline the drama. The western is a film genre notable for gun battles between cowboys and Indians - or rival groups of cowboys - in which participants spend 90 minutes shooting wildly and indiscriminately at each other, and only occasioanlly hitting the target (as otherwise the plot comes to a sudden halt). As viewers of last night’s match between West Coast and Hawthorn will attest, never was this journalistic trope more appropriate, as both sides spent the evening shooting indiscriminately at goal but hitting the target at a rate only slightly better than one in every four attempts.

Critics of Australian football point out that it’s a game in which even when you miss you still score – but we don’t care what critics of Australian football say (what would they know?), and besides, in our game we like to acknowledge the effort, adopting the modern party ethic of every kid gets a prize. But looking at it mathematically, there are only two slots for goals and four slots for behinds: a ratio of one to two. As such you might forgive your team for kicking say 5 goals 10. Even using this generous measure, however, you have to wonder how the Eagles managed 5.21 and Hawthorn 5.16. Sure it had rained and was slippery, sure there was a lot of pressure, but players missed from everywhere: set-shots directly in front, on the run, grubber goals, round the corner kicks, off the ground, from tight to slight angles, close in or long distance. The ball simply would not go though.

West Coast had 12 behinds before they managed a goal, and they only got that because a Hawthorn player literally handed Josh Hill the ball in the goal square.  Likewise, of Hawthorn’s five goals, three came from miracle shots from deep in the pocket on the boundary, while the other two barely scraped through from 5-10 metres out. Honestly, you’d think the goal face was a narrow aperture in the space time continuum that appeared only fleetingly like a slim and wavering tear, just long enough for Dr Who to slip through in the Tardis, before quickly closing up. It was as if Lindsay Thomas was playing as a lone forward for both sides. The shooting for goal from both teams was like men aiming into a toilet bowl after 11pm at a party.  As Matthew (19:24) sayeth, quoting Jesus, “Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for the Eagles and Hawks to slot one through the big sticks at Subi.”

Struck down by a sore throat and blocked nose, I was unable to make the trip to Perth. I took my position on the couch to let Chanel 7s chummy Saturday night crew relay the action to me. Sadly I missed their exclusive coverage of Hawthorn travelling across the continent. Speaking at the conclusion of the earlier Carlton Essendon game, Tom Harley promised that it would give viewers who don't normally get the chance to travel with a team ‘fascinating insights’. Not convinced of what sort of penetrative understanding I might gain from watching various people nod off with iPods in their ears, I watched ‘Before the Game’ instead, but tuned back into 7 for the match.

The commentary team were quick to highlight West Coast’s imposing record at Subiaco – where they haven’t lost since before the mining boom – and invoke the ‘House of Pain’ nomenclature for the stadium, making it sound like some sort of S&M dungeon. And indeed, footy fetishists would have found the analogy apt with tight, in-close action, hard bodies, lots of in-and-under, big fists, moist surfaces and behinds being kicked. The only problem was working out who the dominatrix was. (In the past it was always Dermie).

Rain started to fall as the match commenced and Brian Taylor kept insisting that it would have no impact on the game, even as payers slipped over, fumbled the wet ball, kicked on the full and missed every attempt at goal. But no; no impact apparently. No goals in the first quarter and only the Hawks registered any in the second, a round the corner kick from Osborne and the now trademark Lewis goal from 30 out tight on the left hand boundary.

Our boys were playing ok but there was too much possession, dinky little handballs and turnings back into traffic that resulted in turnovers. Without Birchall we struggled to know what to do with the ball coming out of defence. We lacked poise going forward and many of our disposals were just that, ‘disposing’ of the ball in a hurry rather than passing it to someone in a better position. Still, our supposed weak link, the back line, were playing well. The Eagles were goal less at half time, and while some of this was due to the conditions, part of it was also the pressure of the defenders. Schoenmakers even won a one-on-two contest saving a certain goal – though goals were anything but certain on the night.

Keeping the Eagles goal less for the first half brought some degree of satisfaction, but it was tinged with the dreaded certainty that there’d be a rush of goals at some point and a squall of noise from the parochial home crowd. Two came quickly, but then after Scott Selwood was given a free in front after a trademark Selwood dive (when are the umpires going to recognise this? Even Italian soccer players are subtle by comparison) the Hawks closed it up again. We even began to dominate – Buddy had a few shots, and even got one from the goal square, and then Shiels missed, Suckling missed and Buddy missed again.

With the free kick count at 21 to 12 in the Eagles favour, the home crowd continued to moan at the occasional morsel the umpires threw Hawthorn’s way, overlooking that Kennedy was paid a mark that Gibson had actually held – not just touched – during the contest. Then Sewell missed a set shot on the siren.

It was still Hawthorn narrowly at ¾ time when Jaimee Rogers’ from tabSportsbet teased us with her big teeth and chirpy exhortations to ‘get on’.

When Buddy missed again early in the final quarter I feared the worst. It soon came with string of Eagles goals seemingly sewing up the match. Brad Hill came on as our sub for his first match, and we’ll try not to hold it against him that his first touch was intercepted to set up the Eagles’ match winning goal. It all looked hopeless, until Cyril teased us first with a stunning dribbled goal from the boundary, and then a mark and goal from in front. Suddenly we were within a goal and Matt Suckling was storming forward with the ball...

This is where watching the match on TV is problematic. I’ll never know why he chose to put it out in front of Cyril in the pocket instead of trying to KICK THE FUCKING GOAL!  We know Cyril made as good a fist of it as was possible, just missing from the boundary, but equally, we know Suckling can easily kick the ball 50 metres, so why didn’t he try?

In the end, the Eagles kicked more behinds to get in front. So that’s our second loss of the season, both by less than a goal. And in both we had numerous chances to win. To say it’s disa–point –ing is to labour the point.  Hawthorn fans don’t need to visit adult houses of domination to enjoy a dose of discipline; we just tune in to any match against decent opposition and flagellate ourselves watching fluffed chances.

When the fixture for 2012 was released I thought a return of 2-2 after four rounds was realistic, but now that it’s occurred I’m less reconciled to it, especially as we could so easily be 4-0. And next week, for the third week running, we play an unbeaten side in Sydney. Not easy.  

Final scores: West Coast 5  21  51  d  Hawthorn 5  16  46

Buddy goal tally - 1 = 11 total

What we loved: Cyril's final quarter goals and the work of the backline: Goo, Gibbo, Schoenmakers, Suckling and Stratton.

What we want to know: What's up with Hodgey? the Poo? Birch? And what's with that jumper - it puts at risk our reputation as fashion leaders in footy.

Round 3 - Hawthorn v Adelaide

MCG Sunday 15 April 2012

And the (Brown and) Gold Logie goes to…

“Watch out!” people cried as Luke Breust ran onto a Buddy pass late in the final quarter , his arms outstretched, his eyes tracking the ball’s flight, and therefore not registering the fast approaching Brodie Martin who’d just run off Adelaide’s interchange bench to chase down the same ball. It was a good pass by Buddy – out in front of a running player who would presumably mark it and keep running goalward. Martin hadn’t been on the field when Buddy measured his kick, so he couldn’t have done any different. But everyone at the ground could foresee the impending collision once Martin appeared, everyone that is except Luke Breust. A collective gasp rose from the crowd followed by silence as Breust lay sprawled, unmoving on the ground after the sickening collision.

Despite a handsome nine goal win it was an awful ending to the match, slightly souring what had otherwise been an ideal day at the football.

A warm, sunny day, so hot in fact that I turned up daringly sans scarf. There was a respectable crowd, but not too big, so unlike the previous two matches we weren’t under pressure to arrive early to secure seats, and once ensconced we could spread out a bit. Wait time at the Blazer Bar was minimal, allowing easy quarter break beers. And the Hawks built up a nice gradual lead through each quarter. Perfect really.  Our only real concern was whether the late start would give Buddy time to get ready for the Logies later that night, where presumably he was nominated for most appearances by an individual promoting a new AFL season.

I think I’d been suffering a touch of blockbuster fatigue after Collingwood and Geelong in successive weeks. It was good to be at a relaxing game, for unlike the previous fortnight, we could go along anticipating, if not actually expecting victory. We never expect victory, not least of all against Adelaide who, like Geelong, have an unfortunate habit of beating Hawthorn, right from their famous first match in 91 when they joined the league and walloped us (though we did restore credibility by winning the flag that year), through to our last meeting in round one 2011. Then there was the 93 Elimination Final where we grabbed the lead for a time in the last quarter only to watch Nigel Smart grab it back for the Crows to win their first final; a scenario that was nearly repeated in the 2007 Elimination Final until Buddy slotted a magnificent goal right at the end to snatch victory, if I may revel in a happy past glory for a moment.

But with Mitchell and Burgoyne playing their 200^th game and Lewis his 150^th, there were plenty of past glories to revel in. No matter that Burgoyne had played nearly as many of his previous 199 games against Hawthorn as with them, we’ve appropriated his past glories as well.  The other big milestones of the weekend were the 350th anniversary of Dustin Fletcher's first game for Essendon and the 100th anniversary of the sailing of the Titanic - though I can't be sure which came first.

The difference between playing 200 games and 150 games became fairly apparent as the players milled in front of the banner: it pretty much comes down to a lifestyle choice – kids. There were so many kids out there I thought One Direction was about to perform.  Shaun Burgoyne had a couple of young number 9s in tow, while Mitchell was loaded up with his toddler in one arm and his recent twins in the other.  No wonder he barely touched the ball early, he was probably still suffering cramps in his arms from lugging kids through the banner. He should have put the toddler in a Baby Bjorn or wheeled the twins out in the big double stroller. Why not? Seeing all these kids first hand Jordan Lewis at least knows what’s ahead of him at some point during his next 50 games - kids (now is probably not the time to mention my man-crush on Jordan Lewis; it might come across as a bit creepy).

Speaking of Hawthorn babies, while delighted to hear that Luke Hodge’s wife is pregnant, I was troubled to learn that she’s due to give birth on Grand Final day. Grand Final Day! What is Hodgey thinking?  Last time Luke Hodge’s wife was due to give birth was a certain Friday night in 2008 when the Hawks were playing Geelong. With less than a goal in it and only a few minutes remaining we stormed forward and Luke Hodge recorded one of only a few kicks for the night, and one of only a few miskicks in his career, turning over the ball to Geelong who took it up the other end and scored. Now Hodgey - it’s quite conclusively documented that babies take about nine months to gestate and get born. So knowing this, and knowing that the Grand Final is at the end of September, the ninth moth of the year, don’t you think you owe it to us to just restrain yourself a little on New Year’s Eve? I mean there’s nothing wrong with consensual marital relations in mid February or early March, but not the first day of the New Year. I understand that those NYE parties at Clarko’s joint can get out of control, and I understand that your good wife might find you irresistible, but a bit of forward planning is surely not beyond our club captain.

But of course we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. We’re not in the Grand Final yet – it’s only round 3 and we’re paying the Crows. On the face of it this was a comfortable, even impressive nine goal win against a highly rated opponent. So why was I ever so slightly ill at ease for the best part of the match? It wasn’t just that we’d blown a lead the week previous, but the Crows looked pretty good, they were winning in the middle, getting clean clearances, at times slicing through the Hawks backline, freeing up runners and slotting some good goals or isolating Tippett one-out on Schoenmakers.  They kept Mitchell quiet, Buddy couldn’t quite get into the match and Cyril was only playing a cameo role. Really, our four goal half time lead looked pretty flimsy.

Kurt Tippett  was marking well, but missed a couple of shots late in the second and early in the third that would have brought the Crows close. Gradually Gibson started to control the back line and when Schoenmaker outbustled Tippet to take a mark the pro-Hawks crowd roared to signal their support for our beleaguered backman. They weren’t ironic cheers, but cheers of support and encouragement. We love Schoenmakers – we just wish his name was more conducive to a funky moniker. What can you do with a name like ‘Schoenmaker’? 'The Shoe'? (we've already got 'Goo' and 'The Poo'). As for the player, every week he has to line up against an opposing giant where he gives away height, experience and most of the time, free kicks. If Clarko has a sense of humour he’ll start Schoenmakers on Dean Cox or Natanui next week.

The second half was better value, the Hawks began running clear and spreading nicely, moving the ball quickly, if not always cleanly. Buddy did some good work in the middle and kicked a trademark long bomb from the left hand flank, Rioli was one-out at full forward which worked well, and Breust, Whitecross, Lewis and Suckling were all playing well. As was Roughead, who played an excellent game.

In the final quarter a smart procession of goals - including one from milestone man Sammy Mitchell - stretched the lead out to a more relaxing margin and we could enjoy the remainder of the match doubt-free, until Breust’s collision that is. A pleasant low key day ended as it should – with a rendition of the song followed by a quick drink at Riverland on the way home. There we heard the happy news that North had beaten Geelong, though it might depend on how you interpret it: such a result could also mean that a) Geelong isn’t very good yet they still beat us, or b) we softened them up and then North got to reap the rewards.

Final scors: Hawthorn  21 14 140 d Adelaide 12 12 84

Buddy goal count - 3, total = 10


What we're asking - Where's The Poo?


What we loved - Sam Mitchell getting on the end of a nice pass in the goal square at the end of the match, but instead of running in to the open goal, going back to take a set shot so that we had a chance to offer a prolonged ovation. 

Round 2 - Geelong v Hawthorn

MCG Monday 9 April 2012

Groundhog Day

When I was a teenager, the Valhalla Cinema in Richmond showed cult movie The Blues Brothers every Friday night at 11.30pm. If you happened to be in Church Street around that time you’d see the moviegoers milling out the front of the cinema wearing their Blues Brothers uniform of black suit, white shirt, skinny tie and felt trilby. This wasn’t a momentary fad for a month or two; it lasted for years. It was only that the cinema shut down that it stopped at all. And it wasn’t that the audience for this movie was so vast or varied that it required repeated screenings to deal with surging demand, or that the cinematic concepts were so complex and multi-dimensional that repeat screenings were required to uncover new layers of subtext and meaning. It was the same people turning up every week to watch the plot unfold in exactly the same way, to witness the same characters say and do exactly the same things at the same juncture, to sing the same songs and feel the same emotion they felt at every previous viewing.

Likewise in the 1993 movie, Groundhog Day, Bill Murray plays a TV weather presenter who finds himself reliving the same day over and over again. So it is with Hawthorn and Geelong fans who turn up to the MCG twice a year (in their considerable tens of thousands it should be noted) to relive the same match, to witness the same teams follow more or less the same script with only slight variation each time. It’s tight, fortunes ebb and flow, Hawthorn holds a slight edge late in the third and early in the last quarter, only to miss a few opportunities, and be overrun by a persistent Geelong outfit with Jimmy Bartel making a significant contribution, and ultimately losing by 1-6 points.  When the final siren rang yesterday (incidentally with Michael Osborne snapping a goal all too late) I felt exactly like Bill Murray’s character felt every morning when the digital clock flipped over from 5.59 to 6.00 to mark the dawn of yet another Groundhog Day.

When basketball began to grow in popularity I was not alone in noting that you may as well start each game with both teams level on 80 points and five minutes remaining, because pretty much every game came down to that. You could do the same sort of thing with Hawthorn and Geelong; start Hawthorn on 85 and Geelong on 65 and say, “right, there’s five minutes left.” You’d still end up with the same result – Geelong by 2 points.  If they know their job, you have to assume the marketing department at Geelong is considering putting together a box set of these final quarters.

The objective viewer (which I hasten to point out is not a thinly veiled autobiographical guise I'm adopting) might point out that it was a great game with both teams going in hard and showing a mix of aggression and sublime skill in difficult conditions. This objective viewer might highlight Stevie Johnson’s round the corner goals in the first quarter, Roughy’s goal with his first kick back, Sam Mitchell’s midfield supremacy and ball getting, Tom Hawkins’ big marks, Jordan Lewis’ hard work and finishing, Joel Selwood’s courage, Cyril Rioli’s brilliance, Jimmy Bartels’ ball use, Buddy’s athleticism, and conclude that it was yet another Hawks/Cats classic worthy of a better timeslot (more on this later).

Of course they’d be right, this objective viewer, but I ask, is there anyone more irritating than an objective observer of the game highlighting that your calls for “Ball!” are misguided, that Buddy’s frees are a bit fortunate, that “Gee, that Bartel’s good isn’t he?” and worse, “Yep, the Hawkers blew that one…they really should have won it”? I almost prefer the crazy old Cat fan who as he headed for the exit turned to no one in particular, and the Members pavilion in general, to bellow in angry tones more suited to a domestic dispute, “Go you Catters!”

As we trudged back on the path from the G to Flinders Street alongside the Yarra, my son looked up towards the Eureka Tower and asked me how they build skyscrapers so that they sway in the wind. Now I’m not an engineer and know absolutely nothing about the sort of engineering principles involved in this or any other type of construction, including Lego, or even if there are engineering principles involved, so there was no way I was going to be able to provide a convincing answer. Even if I had the faintest grasp though, I’d have been unable to respond; my mind was wrestling with bigger questions, stranger conundrums. I was seeking answers to entirely different, and may I say, altogether more pressing questions: why did Buddy kick it along the ground when shooting for goal? Twice! Why did Roughy do the same? And why didn’t Michael Osborne kick it off the ground from the goal square instead of trying to pick it up?  

Of course I’m touched that my son thinks I might have known the answer, and pleased that he was able to demonstrate a questing interest in the world around us at a time when I was lost in dark imaginings about a football match. It does him credit.

Our inability to beat Geelong has commentators calling it the ‘Hawthorn hoodoo’ or ‘Kennett’s curse’ (see previous post), but I feel it’s moved beyond that and is now actually a pathological condition.  After the 2008 Grand Final Paul Chapman is reputed to have vowed that they’d never let Hawthorn beat them again, and certainly he’s been as good as his word, but I’m not sure it’s up to him any longer…it’s the Hawks that won’t let themselves beat Geelong.

Despite the obvious disappointment all Hawks fans feel, it really was a great game, as have been all games between Hawthorn and Geelong in recent years. Perhaps it behoves the AFL to realise this and schedule it properly – unless they think Easter Monday at 3.10 is a prime fixture – quite possibly they do. The AFL still operates under some delusion that only Collingwood, Carlton, Essendon and Richmond draw big crowds and these four teams feature on all the big days. Have they compared Hawthorn’s membership figures with those of other clubs? Of the Victorian teams, only Collingwood has more, and we’ve even edged them out a few times. Have they realised Geelong is the best team over the past five years and people like to watch them play? I note that the Hawthorn v Geelong match drew a bigger crowd than Collingwood v Richmond on the Saturday night. Just as the 2008 Grand Final is the only match to draw over 100,000 in many years.

Meanwhile, Richmond and Carlton kick off every season in someone’s idea of a blockbuster – Richmond, who has appeared in the finals fewer times in the last 30 years than Fitzroy – a team that hasn’t been in the competition since 1996! Collingwood and Melbourne has the Queen’s birthday holiday – gee, doesn’t the football public salivate at that prospect every year. And ANZAC Day is apparently reserved for Collingwood and Essendon, who at least draw a crowd, though given Essendon’s recent form; the matches don’t exactly evoke the heroic battles the day supposedly commemorates.  

The next Hawthorn v Geelong game is at least on a Friday night, and while Hawk fans might well be excused for not wanting to turn up again to watch the same hackneyed plot play out, I’ll be there. We’ll beat them one day…surely, and I want to make sure I’m there when it happens.

Final scores: Geelong 14 8 92 d Hawthorn 13 12 90

Buddy goal count: 2 - total 7

Two rants - Round 2 in preview

Same team marriage - the moral solution?

Regular readers of this blog are no doubt disappointed at the lack of virtual controversy so far stirred in these virtual pages. I’ve not been directed to take down any inflammatory content, asked for my resignation, summoned to a meeting with Andrew Demetriou, been offered mediation or counselling of any sort, or ever even had a conversation with Jason Mifsud. But that doesn’t mean I baulk at the uncomfortable truth or that I won’t tackle the thorny topics - there's no point writing a blog if you're not going to make absurd, unsubstantiated statements, so here goes...

The marriage act and how it affects footy fans is a subject that warrants close scrutiny. Amid the calls for legalising same-sex marriage, one topic is still being swept under the designer, cowhide rug: mixed-team marriage.  

This insidious practice is driving families apart. I urge all Hawthorn fans to avoid it. Such marriages simply can’t last. It only takes one controversial umpiring decision that decides a match and the seeds of doubt and mistrust are sewn. And in a hothouse domestic environment, the seeds soon sprout causing longlasting division. Think of the children. Ask yourself, are you friends, I mean really friends, with any Carlton or Essendon supporters? No. Would you want your daughter to go out with a Collingwood fan? I thought not. The dangers are real. It’s an issue that threatens what columnists with a moral agenda and a lazy grasp of metaphor call the ‘fabric of society’, as if our community is something run up on the Husqvarna. 

Sure there are some harmless combinations for a happy Hawthorn betrothal – North Melbourne, Melbourne – their fans don’t care, or at least don’t go to the footy. And some interstate teams are fine; West Australians are generally quite good looking and their teams are hardly ever here, plus it gives you an excuse to travel (Port Adelaide being the obvious exception). But it’s usually safer to stick to your own kind, someone who can share the good times, understands your need to be quiet and alone after a bad loss, someone who says, “fuck Q&A, let’s watch the third quarter of the 08 Grand Final again”, and someone who isn’t embarrassed when you ask them to dress up in long hooped hosiery and a brown ‘n gold 23 guernsey for a little bedroom footy frolic.

Opponents of same team marriage point to Collingwood as an example of the dangers of keeping things in house. And this is a good point. Collingwood fans do tend to marry other Collingwood fans, and then do what married couples often do – which in the case of Collingwood is binge drink and brawl, but also breed. The threat is obvious: two Collingwood fans have 2.75 children each and these then grow up to marry other Collingwood fans who also have 2.75 children, and over time the compound effect of all these little Collingwood fans making more little Collingwood fans and people living longer is potentially catastrophic. Add in a global warming climate where the balmy climes make everyone just a little bit friskier, and you’re sitting on a time-bomb. Still, it’s better than you having to marry one. So if you can’t marry into Hawthorn, and not everyone can be so blessed, then it’s best to marry outside football entirely. Many of the happiest marriages I know consist of one person who loves the Hawks, and the other who doesn't care, but who at least lets you get on with it undisturbed.

I realise that by advocating such a stance I risk painting myself as a football bigot, a sort of Ben Polis of nuptials, but as he said, "I’m not a racist…my cleaning woman is Asian."

Swine flu, redheads and the global financial crisis - looking ahead to Round 2: Geelong v Hawthorn.

On the eve of the 2009 AFL season, then Hawthorn president Jeff Kennett commented that Geelong didn’t have the mental toughness to beat Hawthorn. Smug and still slightly surprised after our victory over them in the 08 Grand final, most Hawks fans agreed. Of course in seven encounters since that pronouncement, we haven’t won once. Worse, in most of them, we could have or should have won. 

I recall one match in particular in 2009 where with scores level, after we’d led all day, Josh Kennedy found himself running into an open goal with only seconds to go, but instead of kicking to register any score and put us in front, he inexplicably handballed to Buddy who was duly mown down, the ball taken to the other end of the ground where Bartel kicked a point after the siren to win it for the Cats. I began to feel quite ill and listless on the way home from that match, and indeed, was sick for some weeks afterwards. Turned out it was Swine flu, but I can’t help feeling that Geelong and Jimmy Bartel were somehow responsible for my illness.  I want to make it clear though that I don’t blame Josh Kennedy for that loss, a) because Buddy probably demanded the ball and Josh was too scared not to give it to him, b) he’s a Kennedy, and c) even though he went to Sydney, anyone who’s ever played for the Hawks is above reproach.  

Hawthorn fans, I feel, are divided into two types: those who watch the 08 Grand Final ahead of matches against Geelong, as a sort of mood setter or preventative pill, and those who watch it after we’ve suffered yet another narrow loss to them as a purgative or panacea. I tend to the latter, so have already got the DVD handy in case I need it Monday evening. I’m just glad Geelong doesn’t have the mental toughness to match it with us as Jeff said – imagine how much they’d win by if they did.

Evidently sick of these narrow losses, team selection for this week suggests that Clarkson has resorted to mind games.  Not only is Roughy back (hands up those who like a bit of Rough!), but so is Kyle Cheney – two redheads selected just to mess with their minds at Geelong – the spiritual home of redheads. Hawthorn and Geelong has often been seen as a battle of blondes versus redheads (don’t ask me where strawberry blondes fit in), so this is a great tactical move by Clarko, but I’d have gone even further and brought Xavier Ellis, the X man, back into the side. Having said that, one of my correspondents, J-Hoe, questions where the X man is at, pointing out that he was selected ahead of Pendlebury in the draft, and while the X man was great in 08, Pendlebury is now an elite player whereas the X man is a Box Hill player.  I tend to agree that Pendlebury is probably a better Brownlow bet at the moment, but one thing you can say about the X man, and I hate to bring it back to hair again, but unlike Pendlebury, at least he never tried dread-locks.  Bad look Pendles.

The other new selection is Bradley Hill, our second round selection in last year’s draft. The Hawthorn website insists that, “he needs to bulk up before he sees senior footy” so he’s obviously been indulging in a diet of hot chips and Hawthorn Pilsner (more on this tasty brew in a future post) if he’s suddenly ready to take on Geelong in only Round 2. Still, he’s the brother of Fremantle Docker Stephen Hill, a good sign, and Freo beat Geelong last week so perhaps we’re hoping a bit of Freo magic runs in his blood. Plus he’s number 32, which is 23 in reverse, so another good sign perhaps. Or not.

While on signs and portents, I’m heartened to read of the impending financial crisis set to sweep the world. High unemployment, banks falling, companies collapsing, foreclosures, mass homelessness, life-savings lost, riots in the street – all healthy signs of a return of the GFC that afflicted the western world in 08, and therefore another positive portent for a Hawthorn premiership in 2012. And surely it’s not lost on anyone that GFC stands for Geelong Football Club – our opponents on that day, and possibly again this year. Spooky.

Now I don’t want to wish this sort of disaster on anyone, other than certain high profile mining magnates and media moguls perhaps, but if that’s what it takes…

It does raise the question of exactly what sort of personal or global disaster would you be prepared to accept on the proviso that Hawthorn wins the flag. I ask this in the spirit of philosophical inquiry, not as a way of inviting curses on particular institutions or individuals, but hey, if you think it will work, go ahead…and Go Hawks!