Round 18 - Hawthorn v Sydney Swans

Saturday 26 July 2014, MCG

To boo or not to boo - that is the question

As the Hawks prepared to take on the Sydney Swans on Saturday night, much of the pre-game banter centred on the type of reception Buddy Franklin might receive from Hawthorn fans after his defection to the Swans at the end of the 2013 season.

Hawthorn fans had a moral dilemma on their hands. Do we warmly welcome back a man who provided so many highlights for us over nine seasons, or do we demonstrate our displeasure over his defection?

But Hawks fans weren’t the only ones struggling with this issue. The question of how to greet Buddy is one that even Shakespeare grappled with, using Hamlet’s famous soliloquy to give voice to his existential enquiry:

To boo, or not to boo, that is the question –

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, (a clear reference to the size of Buddy’s contract)

Or take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them?

So do we boo him, or just try to beat him, Hamlet asks.

For my part I rummaged through my Hawthorn badge bag until I found a Buddy badge and pinned it proudly to my breast. While I wasn’t going to cheer him on, nor was I planning to boo him, although depending on what transpired, a derisive snort wasn’t entirely out of the question.

I arrived at the MCG on Saturday at around 6.30pm, just over an hour before the match, but it seemed that the people had already spoken. As I wandered into the MCC Members toilets I stepped up to the urinal and there, lying face-up in the metal piss tray was a Hawthorn Buddy badge. The message, I thought, was unambiguous, unless of course it was a comment on kinky public toilet habits someone suspected Buddy might have picked up since moving to Sydney. Either way, with a big crowd expected, the face on the badge had a long night of golden showers ahead of him.

In the way that football can throw up simultaneous sub-plots and crossovers, Josh Gibson, Buddy’s best mate was returning from injury for his first match since we last played Sydney, while Jarryd Roughead, recruited three places ahead of Franklin in the same draft, and Buddy’s forward foil throughout their careers, was playing his 200^th match.

Roughead and Franklin are a study of opposites: where Buddy is shy and awkward in interviews, Rough is natural and insouciant, where Buddy is all glitz and glamour, Rough is down to earth, where Buddy’s coiffure and grooming betrays the plotting and planning of a team of style consultants, Roughy is an unkempt ranger, where Buddy’s play is flashy and spectacular, Rough is a model of workmanlike simplicity, where Buddy glides out on his natural arc for a set shot, Rough takes one or two lazy steps before dropping the ball on his boot. It was a shame, if a little typical, that on Rough’s big night he would again be overshadowed by Buddy, but on the other hand, the milestone might help deflect some of the residual anger some Hawks fans might be feeling.

It was hard to know exactly how Hawks fans would really react. People turn up to the football for any number of reasons (and more than 72,000 turned up on this night); to cheer on their team, to witness two of the best teams battle it out, and yes, in some cases, to simply express their indignation at the opposition, rival fans, umpires, James Hird, life itself, or on this night, Buddy.

Damn the Franklin    

Fittingly, the match began with Luke Hodge getting the ball forward to Roughead who marked. Buddy was on hand to sledge Rough as he lined up, so when the ball went sailing through post high, Rough, Lewis and 50,000 Hawks fans all took the opportunity remind Buddy which side he was on and that he could keep his thoughts to himself.

Sydney’s first three forward thrusts and scores all came via Franklin who was moving well and marking strongly. I personally didn’t boo, but I supported the rights of other Hawks fans to do so, and they did, but more in good humour and fulfilling the role expected of them rather than displaying any real animosity. From his first kick Buddy missed from one pocket after a great one-handed mark against Litherland, then two kicks later he took another mark in the opposite pocket…and missed again. From his third mark, however, his kick sailed through the big sticks. His next involvement was to beat Gibson on the wing and send a beautiful kick to Kurt Tippett who marked and goaled. There was no escaping from the awkward reality that Buddy was killing us. Perhaps warm applause would work better than booing?

The second quarter began with an exchange of points, including one more to Buddy, until some inspired play by the Poo got the ball to Breust who goaled. From there though, Sydney slowly took control. By the time Franklin kicked his second goal half way through the second quarter, Sydney was 3.6 and Franklin was directly responsible for 2.5, and had the ‘assist’ for their other goal. It was all looking rather ominous, with neither Gibson, Schoenmakers or Litherland able to stop him. 

There is no rhyme – nor reason – for orange

Sydney was well on top throughout the second quarter with goals to Ben McGlynn and Tippett, after Schoenmakers had dropped a sitter, and led by 13 points as we approached half-time. At this point Jordan Lewis grabbed an errant ball on half back and sent a 60 metre torp over the heads of Puopolo and Laidler. Despite starting the race from behind, the Poo pumped his little legs, got to the ball first, brushed off Laidler’s tackle and kicked a stunning goal right on the siren.

Being multi-cultural round, it was fitting that the Poo embarked on one of his ambitious solo efforts. As far as celebrating the Italian contribution to Australian society, this goal was right up there with pasta, good coffee and Dipierdomenico’s Brownlow. Puopolo’s stature means that he’s not so much an Italian stallion as he is an Italian Shetland, but we love him.

Seven points behind at half time seemed a reasonable position when we repaired to the Hugh Trumble bar; not necessarily a cause for optimism, but neither were we moping.

Of course any lingering shred of optimism dissipated entirely within minutes of the restart. We were still quaffing our Crownies and vodkas when Sydney’s Adam Goodes, hitherto quiet, kicked two goals within 30 seconds of each other. Then he took another mark. Fortunately he missed his third shot, but by the time Josh Kennedy followed up with another behind, the Swans led by 23 points and had recorded 14 of the past 15 scoring shots. 

So dire did the situation appear we took to wondering why the goal umpires were waving orange flags to signal scores. The bloke sitting in front suggested it might have something to do with the Beyond Blue cup the teams were playing for? But surely then they’d have nice sky blue flags. Or was it for Roughy’s 200^th – orange flags to match his orange hair? I posited that perhaps it was to acknowledge multi-cultural round, although any connection wasn’t immediately obvious to me. Perhaps it was just a fashion statement – orange as the new white.

The main problem is that none of this orange semaphore activity was in response to Hawthorn’s play.

Rough stuff

More than half the third quarter had elapsed and although Hawthorn had stemmed Sydney’s scoring flow, we had scrounged just three behinds and were sitting on an unprepossessing 4.10 with just 40 minutes or so left to play in the match. Then just as we were contemplating heading back to the Trumble Bar, Luke Breust snapped a left foot goal. This was followed by a goal to Gunston after a pass from Liam Shiels. Then playing on from full back, Matt Suckling went straight up the middle to Grant Birchall, who kicked long and high to a vacant forward 50, where Breust ran back like a receiver in gridiron and turned at just the right moment to edge out his Swans opponent and take a brilliant mark as the ball fell from the lights. He capped off with a good goal. When moments later Isaac Smith marked and goaled from 50, we were suddenly, almost unthinkably, in front.

Cue Buddy…a brilliant push off against Gibson and he nailed a trademark goal on the run.

Then a curious goal – the sort of goal only Sydney is awarded. A series of passes ended with Ben McGlynn who kicked over Gibson to goal. Except that Gibson claimed to have touched it – the replays indicated that he touched it, and even McGlynn looked forlorn and made a ‘no goal’ gesture. So what was the decision – well of course they awarded the goal.  We booed that decision more than we were ever going to boo Buddy.

Isaac Smith replied with a brilliant running snap. In the next passage the ball was kicked long and high to Hawthorn’s forward line and as we looked expectantly to see Gunston fly for the ball, instead we saw him doubled over on the ground clutching his stomach.  Either it was a sudden gastric attack, or something to do with Sydney defender Laidler. Was there a free kick? No. A report of any sort? No. Even a subsequent investigation by the match review panel? Of course not. I presume this suspension exemption is all part of Sydney’s ‘playing outside the rules’ allowance, to go with their enhanced salary cap and Adam Goodes’ free kick grant.

It was matter of considerable satisfaction when Roughead ended the quarter with two more goals: one from a big pack mark in front of goal, and another from close range after Brad Hill handballed it to him as he was tripped.

Hawks up by 9 points and looking good at three quarter time.

When Roughead marked and goaled within a minute of the final quarter commencing, he’d kicked three goals in as many minutes of play – making it four the match.  Moments later a typically ferocious Puopolo tackle on Dean Rampey won him a free kick and goal, and suddenly we were in a commanding position.

Birchall, Shiels, Lewis, Hodge, Smith and Puopolo were playing strong games. Gibson and Schoenmakers were getting on top of Buddy and Tippet. And just as we began to feel comfortable with our lead, the Swans kicked a couple of quick goals, including a third to Adam Goodes, who now loomed as Sydney’s most dangerous forward.

A brilliant interception by Shaun Burgoyne got one back for us, but Goodes continued to run amok. He kicked his fourth and could have added a fifth had the umpires paid a mark that many in the crowd, myself included, thought was his. At that point Hawks fans stopped whingeing about umpiring decisions, as that was about as lucky as we were ever likely to get.

Hodge sealed the game with a good goal. This was a handsome win over the premiership favourites and we sang the song with some fervour – some of us even felt generous enough to applaud Buddy.

Rough was chaired from the ground by Sam Mitchell and Jordan Lewis, so we can expect those two to be out with shoulder injuries next week. I noticed, however, that no one offered to chair off ‘Big’ Ben McEvoy, who had played his 100^th game.

Final scores: Hawthorn 15 14 104 d Sydney Swans 13 16 94

Attendance: 72,760

Ladder position: 2^nd

What we learned: In the week after the match, Buddy’s girlfriend, Jessinta Campbell, said that Buddy had been upset by the booing during the game. As the Herald-Sun put it, he can wipe away the tears with $100 notes. Or even cry on his model girlfriend’s perfectly sculptured shoulder.  It’s hard to know what to make of this. At the end of 2013, Buddy made what was presumably a rational decision to defect from Hawthorn and move to Sydney for money. How did he think Hawks fans would react?

His decision no doubt made perfect sense to him. He would be paid a lot more to do the same job. Plus a move to Sydney might add to the appeal – the weather, the relative obscurity of AFL players, his girlfriend.  Is his vast salary also being used to support his community? All strong, rational reasons. But what he must also realise is that football fans aren’t rational. By their very nature they are completely irrational. Why else would you leave home when it is less than 10 degrees and sit in the rain to watch your team play a Sunday twilight game against the Western Bulldogs when the result doesn’t matter?  Why else would mature aged men dress up in brown and gold stripes with the number of a virtual teenager on their back? What other explanation could there be for investing all your emotional well-being in the fortunes of a team of footballers when Gaza is burning and the Ukraine is set to explode? It doesn’t make sense; we’re completely irrational, so what may seem logical to Buddy from a personal perspective, is anything but logical to people like us.

The AFL hasn’t reached the same stage as soccer or American sports, where player mercenaries are more acceptable, certainly more common.  Leaving one club for more money is still seen here as a somehow shameful and dirty, despite the fact that there are numerous examples of it over the past 40 years. By joining their legion, Buddy is making it more acceptable for others like him in the future. Except of course that there are no others like him; that’s why we’re so angry about his defection and the AFL rules that made it possible.

What we already knew: Essendon can’t account for up to six of their premiership flags – neither can we. Melbourne’s 1948 premiership pennant turned up on eBay last week with an asking price of $80,000, prompting all the clubs to rummage through their old storage cupboards. Turns out quite a few clubs are missing their premiership pennants, including Essendon, who cannot account for up to six of their flags – I wonder if this includes the ones that were ‘won’ in the years no Grand Final was played, or 1993 when the salary cap became unscrewed. As for Melbourne’s 1948 pennant, perhaps Essendon should buy it – after all they should have won it had they not kicked 9.22 to Melbourne’s 12.6.

What we should be wary of: In the week leading up to the match Carlton appointed Steven Trigg as their new CEO. This is the same Steven Trigg who when at Adelaide orchestrated the conspiracy to pay Kurt Tippett money outside the salary cap. This is the same Carlton that was found guilty in the early par of this century for systematic rorting of the salary cap. Trigg going to Carlton is a bit like appointing Rolf Harris as principal of MLC.