Going into the big game on Saturday, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something special was going down at Hawthorn. Ten thousand people went just to see the boys train! And seeing the boys link arms for each national anthem of the finals, seeing us trounce the Dogs and Saints with that smooth ball movement, seeing the cheer squad decked out in costume – it was as if we knew something that the rest of the football world didn’t. I had actually convinced myself we would win.
I’d come down from Perth for the big game – the inflated prices to Melbourne that week could do nothing to keep me from the MCG. My brother is a Cats fan, so for years this has been the big grudge match but it had never counted for this much. Knowing full well that the Cats were raging favourites, I joked to him “may the better team lose.”
On the way to the game, we encountered a train packed as I’d only ever seen early in the morning on a weekday. Anyone not going to the game would have been kicking themselves for their poor timing. The mood was one of complete excitement – everyone knew that the action would be tense, hard-fought and entirely memorable.
When the game did finally begin, it was an odd contest. In the first quarter, the Hawks made the plays. They were creative and looked dangerous going forward, and were keeping their heads under pressure. Yet the Cats went into the first break ahead. My joke came back to bite me – the better team was losing.
Then the second quarter belonged to Geelong. They sent the ball forward with worrying regularity. Their tackling and manning up was sensational. We kept having to concede behinds because they refused to allow us an option, short or long. Yet a few late goals to the Hawks, and a few shocking misses by the Cats and we were up at the big break. The better team was losing again!
Half time, and a chance to breathe again. It had been a scorching opening – it had lived up to all the expectation. On the back of some good recent performances against Geelong, my brother had identified Young as the danger man and he was right. He was potent when running through the wings and kicked a ripper from the centre square. Had he played the game out he’d have had a real push for the Norm Smith. Bateman’s run was faultless and Sewell was winning the few clearances we got. And when better for Ellis to play the game of his life.
In the third quarter we took the chances we created – I think that was the biggest difference between the teams on the day. Dew was sensational, kicking two telling goals and playing his part in two more. Hodge and Bateman were a dangerous duo and Lewis was prolific. It was a treat and a joy to watch us put six past the competition’s best unanswered.
And then there is the play that will simply live on as ‘the Rioli incident.’ I giggled like a six year old as he beat two Cats to the ball, while on the floor, and then won it back with a condemning tackle. I’d like to see Rhys Palmer do that!
The comfort was temporary, though, as late in the term we tried to slow the game down and the Cats took advantage. I will never understand why we decided short chipping was a good game plan when it was swift, skillful movement and penetrating kicks that got us five goals in the first place. In the blink of an eye, we were only three goals up heading into the season’s last half hour.
Goal Franklin. Goal Mitchell – from 48 metres on his left, if you don’t mind. A tear in the eye. Tension and stress is replaced by overwhelming disbelief. My brother simply shakes my hand in that philosophical and level-headed way of his. The game rattles on until the backmen start racking up the stats. I still don’t believe what I’m seeing, and until the brown and gold confetti is blasted into the air it refuses to sink in.
Hodgey was rewarded for his strong and commanding game, but any of Bateman, Sewell, or Dew had a serious case of their own. And how about Campbell Brown – needed in both 50s at various points, he took strong marks and pressured his opponents’ disposal to force countless turnovers. With a broken foot, it turns out. A heroic effort.
Indeed, words genuinely fail me as I try to describe the efforts of our entire defence – so long considered our weakest link. If you’d told me before the game that they’d have over 60 inside 50s and we’d lose Croad in the second term, I’d put all my money on the Cats.
Next year will not be a walk in the park. The weight of the wait is gone, but we don’t want to stop here. With the list we accumulated over the tough times, we’ll be feeling the pressure to be successful for a number of years. But it’s not next year yet. Let’s just enjoy this moment while we have it.
Simon Morawetz - From the Outer
Share your Grand Final day highlights, Hawks Blog: Premiers!
The views in this article are those of the author and not necessarily the views of the Hawthorn Football Club.
