Dew on the ground puts skids under the Cats

The really memorable grand finals, and this was one of them, all have their defining moments that end up in either triumph or heartbreak. Ray Gabelich’s 50-metre mad, bouncing run for the goal that nearly gave Collingwood a flag against Melbourne in 1964, only to have it snatched away at the death.

Barry Breen’s skew-whiff kick for the winning point when St Kilda pipped the Pies two years later.

The Paul Kelly pass that fell agonisingly short of Tony Lockett’s desperate lunge for it, 30 metres from goal and dead in front, with the Swans leading North Melbourne by nearly four goals midway through the second quarter in 1996.

The game’s whole momentum changed after the Shinboners swept that ball away and scored five goals to one in the rest of the term to take a confidence-boosting two-point lead into half-time and won going away.

There have been plenty more such cameos, lasting only a couple of minutes or a few seconds, that are talked about for years.

Saturday’s will probably be remembered as Dewy’s Deuce, and it took less than two and a half minutes near the end of the third quarter to join the list.

The 29-year-old Stuart Dew, officially listed at 102 kilograms, or just over 16 stone in the old measure but perhaps nearer Gabelich’s 17, galloped like a gazelle to score a goal with four and a half minutes left in the term, set up another for Mark Williams with a tick over three minutes to go, then scored his own second at the 2:06 mark to give Hawthorn a 30-point lead, the biggest of the match so far.

Geelong, after spending nearly two full quarters of football scoring two goals and 15 behinds (six of which were rushed by the Hawks’ defence) since Paul Chapman’s goal a minute into the second term, then rattled on an unlikely two goals in less than a minute, the second of which was the result of a massive umpiring blunder.

Darren Milburn scored with 38 seconds left until three-quarter-time. No argument about that one.

But then, from the centre bounce, Gary Ablett was crunched after handballing to Cameron Ling, standing almost alongside him near the middle of the ground, and Ling hoisted a long kick into the forward line.

“Downfield” was the call from an umpire – which should have meant a free kick to the player nearest where the ball went when Ablett disposed of it.

That was Ling. Instead, the free was paid where Ling’s kick landed, giving Steve Johnson a shot at goal from well inside 50 metres, and cutting the margin to only 17 points at the break.

But it didn’t matter. The Cats attacked strongly early in the last quarter, but came up with only four behinds, three rushed and one to Ablett, before goals by Buddy Franklin, Sam Mitchell and Rick Ladson pushed the lead out to 33 points. Game, set, match.

The downfield free clanger wasn’t the only one that prevented a bigger Hawthorn win, either. Ablett scored his first goal in the opening term when, after he marked and tried to play on with one of his trademark lightning-fast handballs, Chance Bateman laid a legitimate tackle and was harshly penalised 50 metres by an umpire whose eyes weren’t as quick as Ablett’s hands. Another 50 for dissent led to a sitter of a goal for Ablett.

Let’s not take anything away from Ablett, though. His brave, never-say-die performance was the work of a real champion, and stood out in a team that played well below expectations, with coach Mark Thompson going so far as to hint at a bit of selfishness by some players who deviated from the game plan.

Some pundits suggested Ablett should have won the Norm Smith Medal, which wasn’t an outrageous idea, by any stretch of the imagination. Others mentioned in dispatches, apart from the deserving winner, Luke Hodge, included the hard-working Brad Sewell.

Personally I would have given the award to Dew, described by some as the fattest man in football, a jibe that doesn’t matter when you’ve won a flag, just like fellow man-mountains Gabelich (1958) and North Melbourne’s Mick “The Galloping Gasometer” Nolan (1975). It was game-breaking stuff at a crucial time.

Dew, recruited by coach Alastair Clarkson against the wishes of some in the Hawks’ youth-at-all costs hierarchy, went one better than Gabelich and Nolan by winning his second premiership medal in his only two grand final appearances, the first of which was with Port Adelaide in 2004.

“I think my best footy’s ahead of me,” he said ominously on Saturday night, although admitting that might be for only two more years.

And what of Shane Crawford, who joined the Hawks the year after they won their previous flag in 1991 and had to wait 17 long years to taste what he spruiked on the victory dais as his “that’s what I’m talkin’ abaht” success. He played like a man whose time had come and he wasn’t going to let it get away from him.

David Parkin, who knows about these things, reckons now is the right time for Crawford to bow to the inevitability of time and go out on the biggest high of all. He’s right.

But perhaps the day’s most prescient observation came in a typically witty throwaway line from Channel Seven commentator Denis Cometti: “It’s desperate out there – Dew on the ground,” he quipped after a player interchange on the bone-dry oval, not in hindsight in the third quarter, but during the furious-paced first.

Yes, Dew was on the ground all right – and the Cats will never forget how he sent them skidding to defeat.