3 clubs, 23 rounds, A slab of passion….

Hird to be Humble

Dons V Hawks. Lines in the sand, Grannies through the 80s, Brereton’s kiss on Duckworth, Lloydy’s final desperate act to lift his side against a ball chasing Brad Sewell.

My hip has been slowly going and after not being able to walk for a time, this is my first game back for 3 weeks as I crutch into the hawks members I reflect on how I am to carry the drinks back to the seat.

When Watson does his hammy, the Doc tells Hird down the phone, “Is Don, Is Gone” as the young Hawks put on a clinic. We lose Sewlly and Cyril but everyone stands up. By game end, we’re back in the finals race despite losing Roughy, Gilham, Renouf, Stratton all walk up starts to that one day in September er October.

The Goal Umpire texts his chiropractor for a date post game as the Hawks push 9 over his neck in the second quarter. Hawks pour it on, kids stand up, No Buddy, No Roughy and 11 goal kickers.

On the tram home, strangely cast as counsellor to young bomber fans distraught at upcoming carnage against the Cats next round.

Hawthorn 23 8 146 d Essendon 12 9 81

Llyods last act as captain.

Line in the sand. Dons win game. Hawks lose players for weeks.

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Hit me on the chest with your centimetre perfect pass