There is no greater place to be than the MCG on grand final day when the game promises to be a classic. Hawthorn expected to win. Sydney, as underdogs, would need to do something great.
It was a match filled with unbelievable courage. Each second was pressurised. The bounce of the ball was crucial. Men got injured or cut or battered and played through pain and exhaustion. A vicious wind affected the game.
The scoreboard is immune to emotion and it never lies. It records the score and doesn’t care who wins or loses. It can’t explain bodies hammered senseless, torn muscles or ligaments. It cares nothing for exhaustion and heartache.
The 2012 grand final deserves to be ranked among the greats of the modern era, and that’s a list starting to become clogged. Hawthorn dominated the first term, Sydney dominated the second. The margin at three quarter time was a solitary point. With eight minutes left in the last quarter scores were level.
For two hours the pace was relentless, 194 tackles were laid and somewhere amidst the chaos, another unemotional key point indicator, the clock, finally ticked out its life. When the siren went and the combatants sucked hot and cold air, shed tears of hate or pleasure it was the Swans who were celebrating.
After a climactic contest the vanquished are often overlooked. Amidst the chaos of the immediate aftermath the victors receive the spoils, begrudgingly or otherwise. There is ample sympathy to bestow on the losers, but it isn’t always extended. At the weekend, as millions of people cheered the red and the white and couldn’t care for the beaten, millions more were wracked with grief for Hawthorn.
The Hawks are the most successful club of the modern era. Since 1970 they’ve won nine premierships, the most of any club. Back in the seventies and eighties the Hawks, courtesy of a bevy of stable, rich benefactors, ruled the competition.
They were rivalled only by Carlton for the mantle of the best performed club, and while Carlton was often brutalised for their cash and arrogance, the Hawks were only trivialised for their arrogance and gutless brutality on the field.
During that magnificent era, Hawthorn also lost four grand finals, so the club understands how it feels to lose and what that does to dignity and respect. Hawks coach Alistair Clarkson would address those emotions after the game.
Clarkson also had other issues to address. With less than a minute to play the grand final remained in the balance. It was a furious game. As happens in all grand finals, frailties were exposed.
Hawthorn dominated the clearances and had five more scoring shots but kicked themselves out of it. Their last five scoring shots were behinds, and that turned the match in Sydney’s favour.
The final margin, 10 points, seems extravagant. There were only six lead changes, including two in the last quarter. For a game that generated such excitement, the number of lead changes seems small.
There were mood swings, though, massive shifts in momentum that led to unanswered goals. Hawthorn kicked three in the first term, Sydney kicked six in the second and extended that run to eight in the third. The Hawks bounced back with five unanswered goals in the third to reclaim the lead.
Sydney closed out the game with four consecutive goals.
Aside from bruises and niggles, Sydney’s Ted Richards brought a damage ankle to the game and Shane Mumford carried a hamstring strain. Both men lied to their teammates and the media during the build up. Both had quiet grand finals though Richards was important on occasion.
The gamble paid off, but it was close. There were more problems for Sydney when Adam Goodes tore his posterior cruciate ligament in the second term. Goodes had the knee strapped up and ran back on. He was proppy, restricted to the forward line but no less important than if he’d been fully fit.
For the Hawks, Brad Sewell presented at each contest, driving himself at the ball and through the packs. Had two last quarter snaps been goals, Sewell would’ve won the grand final for his club and picked up the Norm Smith medal.
By far Hawthorn’s best with 33 possessions, Sewell lacked support. Franklin and Mitchell got 24 possessions and the Hawks next best was Shaun Burgoyne with 21.
Those numbers are low for a game plan that is built on possession. The Hawks only took 56 marks, and though the wind was tricky, that statistic is indicative of the pressure Sydney applied.
Despite being the best attacking team in the competition, Hawthorn managed their fourth lowest score for the year. A season that promised a premiership needed more than flair to fulfil the flaky guarantee.
Significantly, their second lowest score for 2012, 10:9:69 also came against Sydney back in round five. The meagre grand final score highlighted a distinct lack of consistency in Hawthorn’s finals campaign. They belted Collingwood by 38-points in the qualifying final but almost ground to a halt against Adelaide.
The luxury of a week off in September seemed taxing rather than invigorating.
After dominating clubs all year with clinical precision, the struggle to kick goals against a defensive opponent in the preliminary final was telling. They couldn’t handle the pressure a lack of space provides. Kicking a big score and winning against Sydney was predicted to be a struggle and it was.
After the game Clarkson must’ve been seething but when he fronted the media he was admirably calm. The press conference lasted ten agonising minutes, an eternity for a losing coach. Clarkson showed just two hints of emotion throughout, and one was contained in his opening statement.
‘It’s just a little bit raw at the moment,’ he said deep in the bowels of the MCG while the muffled cheers of the remaining crowd could be heard through the concrete. ‘We played a very good football side today. When you front up for grand finals its always going to be an epic battle.’
The battle was epic, a see-saw, back and forth. ‘We played against a football side that’s very, very talented and we knew it as a footy club.’
Knowing is one thing. Countering that talent is another and winning was the only other thing that mattered. Hawthorn couldn’t. Clarkson was disappointed the Hawks couldn’t capitalise on that swinging momentum that made the game so exciting. He was characteristically blunt about grand final defeat.
‘You’re not going to win them all the time,’ he said. ‘We just need to keep turning up and along the way there’s going to be some heartache.’
He refused to lay blame for defeat on the boots of his forwards. The replay would show dozens of incidents that could’ve been done better, from a coaching and playing perspective. Clarkson drew a breath, though, when analysing forward entries.
‘They just had a little bit more polish when they went forward. Our inside fifty entries weren’t polished enough to give us a chance.’
Going into the game Clarkson was confident his men could generate enough inside fifties to give them a chance at winning. The Hawks did that, going inside 61 times for 26 scoring shots. That tally doesn’t include those three shots at goal that sailed on the full. They held Sydney to 43 entries inside fifty.
‘Just didn’t convert the chances that we needed to at the crucial times,’ Clarkson said.
Those missed chances will provide nightmares and moments of torrid reflection for years. In the coming months Clarkson will imagine ways of beating Sydney’s defensive structure, which is built on congestion, and hoping to play them in next year’s grand final.
‘That’s the way Sydney play,’ Clarkson said of the pressure and blockage. ‘They like to play that slingshot footy and get it out the back. It’s very difficult to defend against.’
During the second quarter, aided by the breeze, the Swans played slingshot footy, kicking six unanswered goals and holding Hawthorn to one solitary point. The Hawks became the first club since Geelong back in 1930 to score just one point in a quarter in a grand final.
Clarkson seemed bemused as to why.
‘Only that it was a pretty swirly wind,’ he said.
The breeze clearly affected the game. By half time, ten of eleven goals had been kicked to the City end. The second half wasn’t as definitive, nine goals to the City end and five to the aptly named Punt Road.
‘It was a pretty significant breeze and it dropped in the second half,’ Clarkson said. ‘And they started to win the midfield battle (during the second term).’
Sydney led by sixteen points at half time, hardly an unsurmountable lead but one that made obvious the wind’s ferocity. Coaches are naturally optimistic, especially at half time in a grand final. There was nothing to suggest the game was beyond Hawthorn’s reach.
With the breeze at their backs, the Hawks kicked five unanswered goals to take the lead. It was a great effort considering the margin during the third quarter could’ve blown out to 33-points had Josh Kennedy not hit the post.
‘We won some of the stats in there that we were searching for, clearances and contested ball,’ Clarkson said of the second half. ‘Usually with the way that we play our footy that usually converts into a victory for us.’
Big games, he said, are hard to win. He likened the grand final to heavyweights having a crack at each other, an apt description.
‘We’re shattered,’ Clarkson said.
Hawthorn has been a great club for decades. They are premiership specialists, having won four of their last five grand finals. For millions of people, the result seemed surreal, it still does, particularly because of their incessant motion into the forward line and those blown chances.
Clarkson, embittered as he was, delivered a grand moment in football press conferences, linking sport and life. It was a standout moment from a dejected coach.
‘It still is the theatre of sport and you’ve got to deal with those emotions,’ Clarkson said. ‘It’s not anywhere near the loss of something that happens to Jill Meagher last week, a brother in law that I lost this year to cancer, a brain tumour or what happened to Jarrad McVeigh’s little daughter last year.
‘You’ve got to keep these things in perspective. We go hard and we compete hard and one of my best mates is coaching the opposition side. It doesn’t mean that you don’t go hard. That’s the theatre of sport and just as importantly, keep life in perspective.’
Clarkson is right. Grand final losses should never be described as tragic, not when compared to the theatre of life. Hawthorn will need perspective in the coming weeks, in pure football terms, because in pure football terms, they blew the grand final and no matter what happens in life, thousands of Hawk fans are ruing what they believe is a tragedy.
Simply, the game was a contrast in forward lines. Hawthorn’s was generally congested and Sydney found enough space with fewer entries. Less bodies, more of a chance. Clarkson thought the Hawks would create enough chances to combat Sydney’s defence and they did.
They just didn’t capitalise, and that is what will haunt the Hawks forever.
Looking ahead, the Hawks don’t need to harden up or get more skilful around the ground. Despite banter about their lack of a quality defender, their defence held up well. What they need is poise when the pressure is on and to get rid of the flair.
Most importantly, they need to improve their finesse in front of goal. Lance Franklin must be cautioned. It is no longer good enough for Franklin to have eight shots on goal and kick three. Franklin’s third quarter goal from 65 metres was dramatic, but he has got to improve his set shot kicking.
That famed arc and hook are not reliable. He kicked 69:64 this year, and that tally doesn’t include those shots that missed everything. Throughout his career, Franklin has kicked 520 goals and 385 behinds. His accuracy is just 57 percent.
That isn’t good enough for a key forward. If Franklin can improve his goal kicking and the Hawks find poise they will win the premiership next year.
When Sydney coach John Longmire fronted the media he summed up victory with one word – sensational.
‘I was lucky enough to play in one (a premiership) in my last game,’ he said. ‘Now as a coach to see the twenty two players experience it, some for the second time, but many for the first time is one of the great experiences I’ve had.’
After the game Longmire advised his men to savour the victory because they’re usually rare. He was thrilled with victory and thankful for the obscurity. As Clarkson put it, the Swans flew under the radar all year. People might’ve figured they were a good side, but few figured they’d win the grand final.
At quarter time, trailing by nineteen points, Longmire thought the match could still be won. He instructed his men to hold strong in defence and use the breeze well.
‘We made a couple of adjustments at quarter time according to the conditions,’ he said. ‘Took our chances when we had to.’
Those chances seemed spent when Goodes landed awkwardly after a marking contest and hobbled off flanked by trainers. A phone call from the bench was bad news, a torn posterior cruciate ligament. Longmire was heartened by a quick chat he had with goods, yeah I’m fine don’t worry about me and the crowd roared when Goodes trotted back on, his knee heavily strapped.
‘He was enormous,’ Longmire said.
He quashed rumours that Jude Bolton took a wrecked knee that needed a reconstruction into the game. Longmire, who had two knee reconstructions, knows enough about the pain of a destabilised joint.
‘If he needed a knee reconstruction it’s pretty hard to play in a grand final.’
He confirmed Shane Mumford barely trained all week before tweaking his hamstring. ‘Mummy hardly trains anyway,’ he said, before admitting that Ted Richard’s ankle wasn’t one hundred percent.
‘There’s always those things,’ he said of the injuries. Longmire suggested that similar injuries are common during the season, but they’re not well publicised. ‘You often hear about these things after a grand final because there’s no next week.’
Still, it was a gamble taking injured players into the grand final. A lot of coaches have been critiqued for carrying injured players in the past. Longmire got lucky.
Sydney finished seventh in 2011. Over the summer, they young players improved. The older players improved too. All worked on their weaknesses and they all trained to the slingshot game plan. It mightn’t be pretty to watch but it netted nineteen wins from 25 games. And they’re a lot better to watch that the Sydney side coached by Paul Roos.
When asked about Mike Pyke, Longmire paid tribute to the big man’s ability to listen, accept feedback and work harder. In four years, Pyke has transformed himself from a novelty Canadian unable to get a game to a premiership ruckman. It is a remarkable effort.
‘He was really strong today whether it was forward or in the ruck,’ Longmire said. ‘He rucked unchanged for a lot of that last quarter and did a great job. He’s been able to shoulder that load when Mummy was out and stay in the team when Mummy came back.’
Staying in the team was crucial. Sydney’s blood culture is mentioned so often in the media it’s almost cliché, but it remains a genuine faith that must be embraced by all the players if they want to remain at the club.
For the past seventeen years the players have driven the bloods culture, and the players who embrace it set high standards. It was the players who told Mitch Morton he wasn’t to be trusted and wouldn’t be selected until he could. It was the leadership group who told Longmire they wanted Morton in the team before the finals started.
Accepting the culture means acceptance. It provides confidence and belief. Sydney believed if they kept dragging aching bodies forward to the next contest, even when there were no fit players left on the bench, the game could be won.
Towards the end of the interview, which at nineteen minutes must rank among the longest in grand final history, Longmire paid tribute to the Hawks. ‘We’ve had some magnificent contests this year. They’ve got some champion players.’
The Hawks, as cliché suggests, are a team of champions but they’re not a champion team. Puopolo, Rioli and Gunston contributed 14 kicks, 14 handpasses and eight marks, ordinary numbers though Gunston did kick two goals. What was required, however, was a dominating performance by Rioli, twenty possessions and two or three goals, as he’s done all year.
Chasing Jetta around the boundary line in the first quarter left Rioli spent and gasping for breath. Afterwards he could not get into the game and seemed overawed on occasion.
Since round ten Hawthorn found the will to lift, to run when they couldn’t, to score heavily with momentum. On Saturday, when they needed it most, the Hawks couldn’t find that will.
Sydney’s Dan Hannebery gathered 29 possessions, four marks and kicked a goal, a performance that could’ve earned him the Norm Smith Medal. That trinket went to Ryan O’Keefe. Hanneberry came equal second in the voting with Brad Sewell.
Forty minutes after the game, O’Keefe was lauded in front of the media and paid tribute to his teammates.
‘The only reason I got the other one (the Norm Smith medal) was because of my teammates,’ O’Keefe said. ‘The group of guys have been sensational all year.’
O’Keefe, who wanted out of Sydney three years ago, said he didn’t think about the botched trade to Carlton. Needing to reinvent himself as a midfielder, O’Keefe worked hard and couldn’t be happier.
‘The coaches have given me the confidence to back myself,’ he said.
Amazing what change in attitude can do. O’Keefe was happy as a forward flanker, averaging a goal a game. Trouble was, his former coach Paul Roos wasn’t happy. When the bid to shift clubs failed, Roos still wouldn’t have been happy.
Three years later O’Keefe repaid his former and current coach in the best way imaginable.
Longmire hasn’t exactly worked miracles. He took over a club with plenty of finals experience and coaching Sydney isn’t like coaching Melbourne. Though the list was solid, there was change. In the past three years, thirty-three players have gone. That’s a high turnover of footballers for any club.
Those that remained extracted every ounce of improvement from their bodies and minds. Lewis Jetta, emergency for last year’s finals, led the club’s goal kicking with 45 for the season. The additions, including those discarded by other clubs, added another dimension to the club.
The big difference was the game plan, described by Clarkson as a slingshot. Under Roos, the Swans kicked little league scores. Under Longmire, they are much more attacking while retaining the same defensive pressure.
It is a brilliant mix.
The second year coach (Longmire was an apprentice for nine years) had bested one of his best mates. There’ll be no satisfaction in that.
Longmire was appointed coach at the right time. He could’ve been lost to North a few years back, hence the succession plan Roos was keen to adopt.
Amazing how Sydney’s succession plan worked so well and Collingwood’s is said to have cost the club a premiership.
At Sydney, footballers play for their teammates and win contests for their teammates and win premierships for the club. Individuals are insular in desire. Improvement for the club, for those they play with, for those about to watch is paramount, and that means everyone on the list.
The 2012 premiership was the flag Hawthorn should’ve won. They had to do it this year, because there is never a guarantee that there’ll be any more chances. Still, the bookies have nominated the Hawks as favourite for the 2012 premiership, absurd as that may seem.
Clarkson can cry or sigh as he wonders the injustice of football. A game that should’ve been won was lost. Everything seemed so right but it wasn’t.
The agony will fester and bleed. Coaches by nature are rarely satisfied. Coming to terms with their legacy often happens too late, no matter how successful. Clarkson could’ve had two premierships to his name. He might have to be content with one but when he looks back on 2012 as an old man, this year will really burn his soul.
Prologue
Leading into the grand final I picked Sydney to win. On grand final day my resolve didn’t waver. I also wanted Sydney to win. I don’t hate Hawthorn as I do other clubs but I didn’t want them to win.
Football fans have long memories, just like coaches and players. The second grand final I ever watched, back in 1978, was gutting. Hawthorn defeated North by three goals and without going into the machinations of injury (commonly known as finding excuses), it seemed a grand final North could’ve won had our best side been available.
For the next fifteen years I watched Hawthorn dominate football, including seven consecutive grand finals in the eighties. I got sick of Hawthorn, hating how great they were, which is what success does to non-believers.
Besides, they also beat North in the 1976 grand final by five goals. That remains a game I have never, and will never watch. Time does not heal all football wounds and though I wasn’t old enough to remember the game, it doesn’t matter.
The real football fan cannot watch a replay of a lost home and away game. Loss is shattering. It can be disturbing and sickening.
At one time in my life I hated Hawthorn. Not only were they a great side, they were a mean, spiteful side. If intimidation didn’t work, certain players routinely belted their opponents. It was might against right and it was dreadfully wrong.
I hated Hawthorn for their violence. Their success at times almost seemed a secondary hate.
Toughness wasn’t punching, elbowing or offering the forearm to men who weren’t watching. The lack of retribution metered out to Leigh Matthews, Dermott Brereton or Robert Dipierdomenico was offensive. Back in the eighties I longed for someone to take those guys out, as they’d done to dozens before, and I longed for them to lose.
In the sanitised age, I have forgiven Hawthorn somewhat. I no longer hate them for what they did to North, though those premiership defeats still rankle. I still make mention of those bash-em days, but crucially, I felt no vindictive sentiments after the game.
Instead I felt sympathy for the vanquished, for the men that let Clarkson down, men who for years have played for him, bled for him, broke bones for him and tore their ligaments, all for him and the team.
I still feel that sympathy, mostly because the Hawks should’ve won, and had that happened I would not have cared. That’s how good the 2012 grand final was.
In a sense I have moved on from the seventies and eighties. But it’s more than that. One of my mates, The Pole, follows Hawthorn. He, like Clarkson, was shattered on Saturday. I felt sorry for him because you want your mates to experience joy and happiness. Had they won, I would’ve felt happy for him.
When I watch the game again, it won’t be with relish that Hawthorn lost, it’s just because it was a great game.
