Round 19 – Hawthorn v Geelong

Friday 3 August, MCG

Groundhog Day…again

Is that a tautology, to say Groundhog Day again? Whatever the figure of speech, it was a cruel, heartbreaking loss for the Hawks. At quarter time victory was unthinkable; at three quarter time, just possible; with two minutes remaining, verging on inevitable; but by the final siren the loss was unbearable.

The pattern in most of the previous eight meetings between Hawthorn and Geelong is that we build up a nice lead, not unassailable (clearly), but useful, and then they haul us in, we fluff several attempts to seal the game and they overtake us with one or two minutes remaining. Well this time was different: they had an unassailable lead at quarter time which over the next three quarters we slowly, heroically eroded, overtaking them with a few minutes remaining. At last we had them! At last, a taste of their own medicine! Take that Chappy! How do you like that one Jimmy!

Of course we all know what happened next and I’m certainly not going to rake over it again. Witnessing it was horrific enough without having to offer a forensic breakdown of events.  For my views on Geelong see post 4 of this blog. 

I do have two questions though:

1. What did The Poo think he was doing? With the ball bouncing out in our forward pocket Puopolo suddenly imagined he was Steve Johnson attempting a sort of scissor kick from mid-air on the boundary line for the miracle goal. Fine when you’re 15 goals up on GWS, but not so strategically astute when you’re clinging to a narrow lead. Really, the best he could have hoped for was a behind, which would have been to Geelong’s advantage anyway. What we needed at that moment was possession, not points. Why wouldn’t you just let it bounce out of bounds? Or just take possession if you must and get bundled over the line? But kick it across goal to Geelong so they can run it upfield…

2. Why wasn’t Cyril awarded a free kick for incorrect disposal just prior to this? A Geelong player takes possession and attempts to dash out of defence with the ball, is tackled by Cyril and brought to the ground as the ball spills free. In what parallel version of the game is this not a free kick to the tackler? Had there been a sudden rule change at three quarter time that I was unaware of?  An umpiring oversight the next night that gave Collingwood victory over St.Kilda made it two matches in succession decided by blatant  umpiring error. Unforgivable.

The kick

As for Tom Hawkins’ winning kick, like every Hawks fan, I’ve been to enough of these Hawthorn Geelong matches to know that from the moment he took the mark he’d kick the goal. Never mind that he’d miss the same kick 9 times out of 10 against any other opponent at any other venue on any other day – against Hawthorn with one second left on the clock he was always going to slot it.

The day after the match was my son’s birthday and we went to Luna Park to celebrate. Riding the Scenic Railway I couldn’t help but reflect on the match. The slow climb up the first hill to the top resembled Hawthorn’s gradual, painstaking comeback; then the plateau where the balance was even. That moment, however, when we plummeted down the first steep dip and I felt the lurch in my stomach…that is exactly how I felt when the ball left Hawkins’ boot.

Coming second

But like most Australians, I’ve recently become accustomed to watching the subject of my support fail to live up to expectations, to trip at the last hurdle and come in second. Adam Scott at the British Open: four strokes up with four holes to play and he bogeys the lot to lose.  The Australian cricket team: number one in the world in one-day cricket – 4-nil losers to England with our best result being a washout. Samantha Stosur: cruising through Wimbledon only to lose to some no-name. Cadel Evans: running second and poised to strike in the Tour de France, only to fall back to the pack. Casey Stoner, Mark Webber – the ability to win is deserting Australians. And then the Olympics: the mens  4×100 relay team, James Magnussen – the fastest man in water, well, second fastest it would seem, Melanie Schlanger, Bronte Barratt, Emily Seebohm, Liesel Jones, Anna Meares, Mitchell Watt, the various rowing skulls…the list goes on. I already feel for Sally Pearson in the hurdles; as current world champion and an Australian she has virtually no chance. With this backdrop of sporting miscarriage, I was somewhat mentally equipped to cope with yet another narrow defeat to Geelong.

Laying blame

Of course I blame myself.  Thinking I was important; imagining I was part of some special coterie, I accepted an invitation to attend the match as part of a corporate function. This required me wearing a suit and tie, which meant I couldn’t wear my lucky ensemble – a brown/blue checked Jag shirt over a stylish v-neck tee depicting the history of Hawks logos – that I’ve donned for every match of our eight game winning streak.  This hubris of mine in believing I was some high-end wheeler and dealer may have cost us the match. Had I just sat in the usual spot in the MCC members with my normal Hawks believers in my normal footy gear, I feel it’s very likely we would have won. So don’t blame The Poo. Don’t blame The Cobbler. Blame me.

Having said that, the function was very nice with lively and engaging company, beautiful food (pan-fried salmon followed by a sort of rhubarb crumble), a liberal drinks menu, great elevated seats on the wing and a pre-match speech by Johnny Platten. The problem is of course that while I can masquerade as a debonair man of refined manners and wit for the duration of dinner, once the game starts I’m revealed for the Hawthorn hoodlum I truly am with shouts of “Ball!”, “Boo!” , “Deck him!” and probably worse. It was a 9 goal to 2 first quarter after all, so I suspect my carefully manufactured facade of urbane corporate sophistication was well and truly shredded by quarter time.

But it was no better in the Members. When I caught up with my friends post-match I learned that during the cut and thrust of inter-supporter banter during the game, one of my cohorts had been called the C-bomb. By a girl! To balance it out she’d also received a marriage proposal and a racially based tweet. Just another night in the MCC Members it seems.

And for us, in the end, just another narrow loss to the Cats. Possibly the cruellest one yet in our recent run. You get the sense Geelong planned it this way: Gain an unsurpassable lead, let them surpass it, let them believe, and then snatch it from them.

Perhaps the Kennett curse is real. We may just have to hold some public sacrificial flaying or burning of him before we can hope to beat Geelong again. On the other hand, if this is the price we’re paying for beating them in the 2008 Grand Final, then fine. It’s worth it. They can have all the home & away wins they like for all I care, so long as we can win the ones that really matter. And I suspect Geelong fans might feel the same way. The longer this goes on, the more fretful they’ll be on Grand Final day should we ever meet there again. Because this hoodoo has to end one day, and I’m sure Geelong would rather it be on some nondescript Friday night than on the last Saturday in September.

Final scores:  Geelong 18. 10. 118 d Hawthorn  17.  14.  116


Buddy goal tally – 0 = total, 51


Buddy behinds tally – 0 = total, 49


What we’d like: Buddy!


What we don’t like: that we’re doomed to have to watch that goal endlessly