After year of adversity, 2014 premiership may be Hawthorn’s greatest
THE 1961 flag was Hawthorn’s first, 1983 was emphatic and 1989 was brutal. But the Hawks’ 2014 premiership is something else writes Mark Robinson.
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ARGUABLY, this was Hawthorn’s greatest premiership.
Their first in ’61 was historic under Graham Arthur and 1983 was emphatic.
The 1971 flag was memorable for the carnage and so too in ’89, for the carnage and Gary Ablett Sr.
And 2008 was special for its unpredictability. There was a bunch of kids, a legend named Shane Crawford, and Stewie Dew had so much footy in the third quarter, it looked like he ate it.
But 2014 is something else.
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It was won on what we know and admire about Hawthorn. It was victory for self-belief and resilience, that ineffable quality that allows people to be knocked down and get up for more.
That was Hawthorn in 2014.
Every week they would get slapped down with an injury or illness — no worse than to coach Alastair Clarkson — and every week they would roust yet another effort.
You know, one soldier down, another soldier comes in.
They overcame hurdles piled tenfold throughout the season and, on football’s greatest day, they pounded Sydney into the MCG.
The final margin was 63 points.
The final quarter was torture for the Swans.
The Hawks fans cheered every little cameo, and the Swans fans sat in disbelief, if they hadn’t already departed the ground.
From halfway through the first quarter, the Bondi Billionaires were made to look like Broadford battlers.
In a stunning result, the Swans were completely dismantled. It was a belting. Brutal and unforgiving.
They crumbled in the heat of the contest and that’s what they have to live with forever more.
Lance Franklin was supposed to be the man for the moment, yet his teammates didn’t allow him enough ball to be the game-changer.
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The stats were startling.
Inside-50s were 64-44. Disposals were 442-298. Marks were 105-67. The numbers don’t lie.
Franklin was booed by Hawthorn fans, but the one-time Hawk now with a fat Sydney contract kicked four goals and didn’t disappoint.
Most of his teammates did though.
Thirteen Swans had 11 or fewer possessions. The Hawks had four in the same category.
The Hawks barely had a poor player.
Skipper Luke Hodge won the Norm Smith Medal with a typically resplendent Hodge game. He had 35 disposals and kicked two goals in three minutes in the second quarter, which might’ve separated him from teammates Jordan Lewis and Sam Mitchell as the winner.
At the siren, Hodge lifted his arms to the skies, exhausted and exuberant.
What a player and leader he is. It’s his second Norm Smith Medal and underlined his status as a big-time player.
When he led the team on to the MCG, the banner ahead of him declared: Our Captain. Our General. Our Warrior.
The was no mistaking who it was about.
And he’s a big-time kisser, too, planting the lips on Franklin’s face during the third quarter.
But it was Lewis who first sought out Franklin after the game. The two best mates spoke briefly and hugged and went their separate ways, and the next time they see each other most likely will be at Lewis’s wedding in October.
Clarkson is a now a three-time premiership coach and clearly the coach of this generation.
He approaches the greats like Parkin and Sheedy and Barassi. He’s won three flags in 10 years. Mick Malthouse has won three flags in 29 years. That’s not a dig at Malthouse, it’s an understanding of Clarkson’s achievement.
The Hawks destroyed Sydney in the first 60 minutes.
They kicked five, six, five and five goals across the four quarters.
It was fierce early. The Hawks went after Franklin and Franklin went after his former teammates.
One time, he crashed into a pack and sent opponents and teammates sprawling, and then in the same quarter, Brian Lake’s forearm rode Franklin’s head into the turf in a marking contest. Old-timers would say he made Franklin earn it.
That’s what the Hawks did, they intimidated Sydney with their pressure, work ethic and tackling.
It’s why Heath Grundy dangled one arm in the air to spoil, but failed miserably. He flinched and ball ended up being a Hawthorn goal.
There was plenty of ruggedness about the Hawks in the first quarter. Jarryd Roughead nailed Dan Hannebery, Brad Hill ran down Nick Malceski, Hodge and Liam Shiels were frenetic, and what can you say about Will Langford? He is the find of the season for the Hawks and he didn’t let himself down on the biggest stage.
The Hawks kicked nine goals of 10 either side of quarter-time.
At the half, they led by 42 points. At the end it was a touch more than 10 goals.
When the stats sheet has Hawthorn’s possession winners in order as Lewis, Hodge, Mitchell, Gibson, Birchall and Burgoyne, it is fair indication Hawthorn has dominated.
There are countless terrific stories.
There’s Lake who must now love this footy caper. He left the Bulldogs and has played in back-to-back premierships at Hawthorn.
There’s Cyril Rioli and his hamstring and whether he should have played or not. He did. He intercepted and smothered and tackled and directly gave Roughead two of his five goals.
There’s Matt Spangher, a three-time emergency in Grand Finals. There’s Ben McEvoy in his first season as a Hawk. And there’s Brendon Bolton, the fill-in coach with the bubbly attitude who might’ve even helped soften Clarko.
Because of the blowout, it was a slow burn to the euphoria.
Still, the Hawks fans didn’t go quietly.
The hung around for the lap of the players — the lap of the Gods, it is called — and most of them, were arm-in-arm when they departed the MCG.
Some of them were delirious, some of them drunk, but all of them mighty proud, as that famous football club song rang in their ears.
We’re a happy team at Hawthorn, we’re the ...
Originally published as After year of adversity, 2014 premiership may be Hawthorn’s greatest
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