And then Hawkins... does it again
Reflections on a personal favourite
Thanks to the generosity of a family friend who has season seats at Kardinia Park, dad and I were perched in the perfect spot on centre wing in Round 18, 2018.
Geelong’s season in the balance, the Cats found themselves down by five goals early in the final quarter, the Demons spoiling the party on Tom Hawkins’ 30th birthday.
Happily, Tomahawk managed three in the final term (for a then career high of seven for the match), as well as a crucial mark in the final passage of play that set up a remarkable win after the siren.
At that point, my usually softly spoken and conflict-averse father addressed the smattering of Melbourne supporters in the now delirious crowd, using some choice words to direct them back up the highway.
After reminding dad that we would soon be following them, we sung the song a few more times, hugged strangers and set the car radio to K-Rock until the signal got too weak as we drove past Werribee.
That night six years ago remains one of my favourite football memories.
But this week, after he announced that he would retire at the end of the season, I paused to reflect on the fact that in most of them – my happy football memories at home or far away – Tom Hawkins features heavily.
Perhaps it is suitable for a man of his physical presence, but ‘Tim-Tam Tommy’ has had an indelible impact on my time as a Geelong supporter, standing with Joel Selwood above the rest in an era of bountiful success.
There was the first time I saw him live at the ‘G in 2007, asking dad on a sunny Sunday afternoon, if he would be “our own Buddy Franklin.” Then, fifteen years later I almost burst a blood vessel screaming for his first two goals of the 2022 Grand Final.
Between those two days came the Premiership in 2011.
A well-documented turning point in Tom’s career, I had missed out on tickets to the game, and would spend the day with my perennially anxious football-watching grandfather. Too nervous to watch this day, he suggested we play golf instead. After racing around to ensure we would be home for the second half, Grandpa instead took the longest possible route home, meaning we walked through the door to Anthony Hudson’s call of “Hawkins... does it again!”
The following year, in 2012, the cat was still on the back, as Hawk’s long bomb after the siren sunk Hawthorn at the MCG to keep the Kennett curse alive. How many times I've watched the replay of the final passage I couldn’t say, but I’ll never forget jumping around the living room with dad – heck Hawkins could get the old man not only out of his chair, but more importantly out of his skin...
Amongst it all, the Premierships, the match-winners and left-to-right sliders, Tommy has carried a grace and infectious positivity. In his recent piece, Gideon Haigh described the way Hawkins derived a “visible communal pleasure” from the game. How he would delight in sharing success and watching his teammates thrive.
It’s true.
The high-fives, bum taps and hair ruffles he gave would always be accompanied by an earnest “good boy.” You never needed to be an expert lip-reader to know what Tom was saying or feeling, his support and love for his teammates underpinned all that he did through Geelong’s two greatest decades.
It’s that warmth and generosity – quantifiable to some degree by his 296 goal assists if your brain is that way inclined – that leads all who know him to speak of the quality of person. In the lead up to his 350th match, Hawkins’ former captain Cameron Ling described his “truly beautiful nature.”
From the other side of the fence, it has been easier to get a sense of how Geelong assistant coach, Nigel Lappin described the forward.
“He is like an uncle to every one of our players, and a big brother depending on age. He really invests in others.”
And after having had the privilege to watch him in the hoops for eighteen seasons, I am convinced we all need a friend, brother or uncle like Tom Hawkins.
Thanks for the memories, and apologies to any Melbourne supporters who were on the receiving end of dad’s last spray at the football that night down the highway...