Hawks supporter Matt White reviews the match between the Hawks and the Crows in the 2007 First Elimination Final.


“Darl, what do you think of the name Lance?”

Now that I recovered to some resemblance of consciousness and sanity, let me take you through my new favourite footy memory:

“Just kick it Buddy. Please kick it….”. This was the simple thought running through my head with 7 seconds to go in the match on Saturday. How there was any space left in there with all the blood I was sending to it, I don’t know. It was really starting to pound. Thanks to the lovely people at Ticketmaster who rewarded my wife’s determination last Monday, we were allocated seats in Row W on the city side wing. There is every chance the headaches were actually a mild case of altitude sickness. Two more rows back and we would have fallen out onto the 2.35pm service to Seymour.

“Just kick it Buddy. Please kick it….” Although we were not right behind him, we’d know straight away whether or not it would go through. I would know pretty much straight away whether or not Buddy would send himself into superstardom, the Hawks into the 2nd week of finals and me into a state of delirium induced shock. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I would do if he kicked it. If he kicked. ‘If’. I’ve gotten used to using the word ‘if’ over the past 5 years. Unfortunately the ‘if’ was usually accompanied by the word ‘only’.  But now, Buddy had a chance to stop me berating everyone with ‘if only Buddy kicked it…’

“Just kick it Buddy. Please kick it…” I was sitting next to my 8 month pregnant wife Bethan, or B for short. B’s been a Hawks member longer than she’s been living in Australia since moving out from Wales 2 years ago. I was watching her carefully. I didn’t want her doing her best Pauline Williams impersonation and have our first child there in Row W.

So then he starts running in, does his trade mark run to the left (as if the angle wasn’t tough enough) and loads up. From our angle the ball started just outside the right post, and then swung back in between the big sticks. I actually didn’t see the ball cross the line. I was already leaning back, pumping my fists in the air, and screaming at the top of my lungs.

Pandemonium rained. Chaos ensued. The noise. The roar. I swear I could hear out of my permanently deaf ear.

I turned around and bear hugged the blokes in the (only) row behind us. It was a gratuitous display of man-love. We jumped up and down, swayed and I had to do my best to stop us toppling down the tier.

We regained our composure for the centre bounce. I told the boys in front to sit down, as it gave them the opportunity to jump back up. The siren went the second their bum hit the seat. Another monstrous cheer, more hugging of random people. Just between you and I, I think a small tear may have escaped my right eye.

What a game. Simply what a game. And now, what a memory. I will take that moment to the grave.

Such was the intensity, the group I was with looked like they had just completed a tour of duty. My eldest brother Dave had nearly lost his false front tooth as it came out during one roar. Mark (another brother) had dislocated his shoulder letting ‘Little Ray’ what he thought about one of his decisions. His partner Rox was sounding considerably hoarse, whilst her dad Len, the coolest cat of them all, even stood up at one stage. The game was that big. B managed not to give birth, although I think there were times it got a little hairy. Me? I needed a good sit down for a few minutes. For those of you who saw me sitting on the ground against the wall outside Aisle 36, up on Level 3, it’s OK. I’m alright now. I also lost my sunnies as they went flying off my head into the sea of Hawks supporters. But it was all worth it.

So what about the rest of the game? Do I need to recall the slow start, where we appeared in awe of the finals atmosphere and the experienced Crows made us look second rate? No. Do I need to come across as a whinging one-eyed supporter when I complain about the standard of the umpiring? Perhaps, but I can’t do anything about it now. Should I applaud the Crows on their tenacity, determination and competitive spirit? Absolutely. Torney’s goal that nearly single-handily sent me to my grave, was a pearler.

When it’s all said and done, in the days, weeks and years to come people won’t talk about things like Hodge’s over the head handball to Young for the ‘nana on the run. They won’t talk about Crawf’s critical goal at the start of the last quarter. They won’t talk about Taylor’s 45m punch out of defence to Young in the clear on the wing. They won’t talk about Brown risking any future of fatherhood attempting to spoil the aforementioned Torney goal by giving the goal post a high speed cuddle.

No. They will talk about one kick. One goal. Buddy’s goal.

I gave a random young kid walking with his Dad a high five as we went along Spencer St after the game. He turned around and he yelled back at me “My favourite player is Buddy” and proudly showed me the 23 on his jumper. He was walking tall, as if he the number one ticket holder in Club Franklin. I gave him a thumbs-up and kept walking.

I turned and looked at B’s bump, being stretched under her Hawks jumper. Smiling, I said “Darl, what do you think of the name Lance?”


Matt White

**********

Check out another supporter review of the EF1 -  Steve Polak

Opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and not necessarily those of the Hawthorn Football Club. hawthornfc.com.au would like to acknowledge the contribution of supporters to the Official Club website. If you would like to sign up to write for hawthornfc.com.au click here for more details.

    * The Hawks raised $1,500 for HSBCkids after kicking 22 goals against Adelaide.