Round 3 – Hawthorn v Geelong: From the Shane Warne Stand

Darlow just got back from Hong Kong and Shaun is swimming the Sydney beach pools so I headed to the footy on my own. To my dismay I missed a train from Waurn Ponds and there was a 50 minute wait until the next one. I decided to drive despite the threat of monsoonal rain and the hordes returning to Melbourne post-Easter. By the time I got into the ‘G’ the Cats had kicked three goals on their way to a seven goal first quarter. I had missed the first of Tommy’s four goals in the joyous occasion of his 350th game. 350 is a monumental achievement for any player (only 24 have achieved it in 130 odd years) but for a bloke the size of Tom Hawkins it is truly extraordinary. The shrieking Hawthorn fan behind me was nearly quiet by the first siren but I relocated anyway down to Level 2 in the AFL Members.

Hawthorn struck back in the second in a big way, their ball movement and speed in transition seemed to unsettle the Cats. Chol was impressive but so too was second-gamer Toby Conway who bears more than a passing resemblance to Damien Bourke. If he can continue this form we may finally have a successor to Otto. Tanner Bruhn was racking up possessions in the guts and Mitch Duncan was bringing his usual calm efficiency and precision. Brandon Parfitt has hovered on the edge of the first team for several seasons, never quite able to establish himself but he showed all the signs of finally making it, tackling ferociously all day. By half-time the margin was 11 and Hawthorn had the momentum.

The third quarter started with Chol narrowing the margin to four points before the Cats kicked back into gear and re-established their superiority in the middle and around the ground. Conway kicked his first AFL goal, Stengle kicked his second, Ollie Henry and Hawk added their third respectively, Duncan scythed one through from long range and Max Holmes added the sixth for the quarter to repeat the quarter-time margin of 36 points.

Nothing could stop the Cats now…

Except…

Lightning. Somewhere in the vicinity of the MCG. The umps took the teams off for a minimum 20 minute weather delay. Ten minutes into the break, bored, or drunk, or both, a bloke jumped the fence and took off running through the middle of the empty MCG. The security guards had been caught napping but dutifully set off in lukewarm pursuit and nailed him in the forward pocket at the Punt Rd end. The scoreboard and ground announcer reminded the restless crowd the escapade incurred up to an $11,000 fine. Ten minutes later a second bloke who missed the memo, bounded onto the hallowed turf, pranced around briefly and was then swamped and escorted unceremoniously away to add his 11K to the coffers.

Meanwhile I had a dilemma. I had a ticket to a performance of “37” by the Melbourne Theatre Company at 6.30 and a wet bike ride to get there. With the weather delay stretching to 41 minutes I knew I was going to have to bale on the Cats and head for the theatre in Southbank. The play, centred around racism in a country footy team, was challenging and well-acted, earning the cast a standing ovation and multiple curtain calls. It was worth missing the last quarter for.

I had to watch the replay when I got home to see all the bits I’d missed at the beginning and end of the game. The Cats saluted by the familiar margin of 36 points and honoured our champion full-forward against our biggest rivals. Perfect.

 

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