HAWTHORN 4.3 10.5 12.6 17.10 (112)
ADELAIDE 7.1 10.3 14.6 17.7 (109)
GOALS Hawthorn: P Puopolo 5, C Rioli 4, J Sicily 2, B McEvoy, I Smith, J Ceglar, J Gunston, L Breust, T O'Brien. Adelaide: E Betts 3, J Jenkins 2, J Lyons 2, M McGovern 2, T Lynch 2, T Walker 2, C Cameron, L Brown, P Seedsman, R Sloane.
BEST Hawthorn: Puopolo, Rioli, Mitchell, Hodge, Langford, Smith, Burgoyne. Adelaide: Sloane, Thompson, Jacobs, Smith, Betts, Lynch, Douglas, McGovern.
Crowd: 45,781 at the MCG.
If there was any doubt that Adelaide would be in the hunt in this two-to-one-the-field season, this match would have dispelled it. But if there was any suggestion that Hawthorn were out of it, it also was scotched. Individual plays and players might go past the Hawks, the game does not. But nothing will come as easily as it has.
This was their third one-kick win in a row. To achieve it, they had to kick the last three goals of the night, Paul Puopolo's nerveless sealer arrowing through with just 18 playing seconds left. Even coach Alastair Clarkson accepted that they surely have used all their get-out-of-jail-free cards. Next time, like Channel 9, they will have to pay.
That's the what. Just as important was the how. If there was any doubt that AFL footy has changed for good this season, this match settled it. First almost to last, it was played at lightning pace, full of quick, slick handling, giving tall forwards a chance at the front of packs and smalls at the back. Small forwards, formerly resting rovers, kicked goals. So did resting ruckmen, formerly bench-dwellers. And the spectacle was better for it. Clarkson, once his heart rate had returned to normal, could take a step back and admire it.
The key, new-old, was to win the ball at clearances. Dry, cool, windless night, big ground, deluxe midfields, premium skills, first hands on ball – good luck defenders. In the first quarter, it was Adelaide — who forged four goals ahead — in the second the Hawks, who made a two-goal break of their own. After that, it was pretty much goal-for-goal.
The goals told the story. Eddie Betts kicked three in the first quarter, all roaming out the back. Once, out the back was where the kids were after school. Now it's the big boys. Cyril Rioli kicked three for the Hawks, two lashed off the ground. Jack Gunston kicked one by tracking the ball from beside a point post. He went one side, the ball went the other, he kept it in play, goal.
Rioli and Puopolo floated over packs for two more goals. Puopolo would kick five. McEvoy and Ceglar plodded forward for one each. Ceglar — a ruckman, remember — bent his, if not like Beckham, at least like Stevie J. For variation, Taylor Walker, propped, hopped and copped like a small forward, a very big small forward. This is the flair that has come back into the game. Any other year, any one of these goals would have been in line for the weekly prize. Twenty goals between them by half-time, but this was no shoot-out, implying marginal defence. It was footy gone to another level.
If there was a doubt that this back-to-the-future game is sustainable for two hours on the vastness of the MCG, the third quarter might have validated it. But it might also have been that both teams tightened up, battened down and took out backline insurance. At any rate, the play became scrappier, the goals scarcer. But it was all a matter of degrees.
Seemingly, this tempo better suited the Crows, and they took the ascendancy. Still, it only takes one goal. This was one by Isaac Smith, almost falling over himself as he ran onto the ball on the wing, then stabbed it from 70 metres. Ahead, there was no-one or nothing to stop it tumbling through.
Again in the last quarter, the Crows set the style, packing up at half-back and rebounding to the wide open spaces. At time-on, they were 15 points to the good and Hawthorn was aching for Jarryd Roughead. They hadn't kicked 100 points for the season, and now needed 110, and then with a Puopolo toe-poke here, a Rioli snap there, a Mitchell ball-banged-on-boot and Puopolo free-kick, suddenly they had them. The Crows did nothing wrong, but the Hawks did something special. Again. But Clarkson felt for the Crows, and was not in the least patronising when he said: "They were pretty stiff to lose tonight."
The standard barely slipped. In moments, as inspiration came, it rose. Look at the kicking at goal. Look at the scoreboard fine print: three rushed behinds for the night, not a single free-kick for deliberate out of bounds. Look at the stats: high-kicking efficiency, minimal turnovers. Clarkson had only one caveat, that it was unusual for the scoring to be both high and close. Most days, fans will have to choose, but this night they could have their cake and eat it, too.
So, will we tire of this brand? Maybe, but not until we have gorged on it.
