I started supporting Hawthorn in 1958, as a 10 year old. My mother told me our neighbor - Ron Cabble - had played in the 1957 finals for Hawthorn. So that launched, luckily for me, an association with the Hawks right across their most successful period.
 
For three of the Grand Final wins I have been in distant places - Byron Bay in 1988, Vanuatu in 1989, and Port Moresby (about to tackle the Kokoda track) in 2008. I feel my absence may be a good omen.
 
Some of my very vivid memories are:
 

• Watching bustling John Peck muscle his goals

• Des Meaghers’ conversion from an elegant long drop-kicking forward into a scrubbing mis-kicking wingman

• Wondering if high stepping Normie Bussell would ever get a Brownlow vote

• The foolishness of my group of friends for trying to drink a can of beer for each goal Huddo kicked. Not only was it stupid, but we couldn’t keep up anyway.

• Stating to a friend authoritatively that this new guy, Michael Tuck, will never make a footballer

• Trying to make sense of how such an extreme fashion plate - Don Scott in a white suit with flares - could be one of the games tough men

• John Kennedy chastising Gary Buckenara in front of hundreds of supporters at a club dinner, when Gary dared to smile when Kanga was revving everyone up for the 1983 finals.

• The passion of the meeting at Camberwell Town Hall when fighting the proposed merger with Melbourne.

 
There are many more memories, but got to stop somewhere
 
Go Hawks