A Melbourne player picked up the ball and threw it onto his boot, gaining good distance but without any precision.
Andrew Collins - small, blond, and wearing Crimmo's number five jumper - used his body to shepherd his opponent from the drop of the ball, allowing his teammate Nick Holland to drift into the space and take an uncontested mark. Lois leapt to her feet like a suddenly loosed spring. "Yay, Dutchy!" she yelled.
Eighteen seconds.
Lois perched on the end of her seat. "Take your time, Dutch," she muttered. "Take your time."
Holland walked, ran, stepped backwards ... and managed to eat up ten seconds of time.
Then, falteringly, he inched forward. The umpire told him to play on.
Four seconds.
Holland kicked the ball as long as he could, and while it was still in the air, the siren sounded.
Hawthorn had won.
By one point.
Part 44
As the siren sounded, Lois leapt into the air, arms aloft and fists clenched as all the tightly wound tension exploded into electrifying excitement. She turned to Clark and threw her arms around him, still jigging on feet that couldn’t stay still.
"They did it," he said. "Well done. Great game."
"It was a magnificent game," Lois enthused. "It had everything." Her hand caressed his cheek. "Even you."
"I'm so glad I was here."
"Me, too."
"Finals next week?"
"If Richmond get beaten by North tomorrow, yes," Lois said.
Clark put his arm across Lois's shoulder, and she slipped her arm around his waist. Together they watched the Hawthorn players celebrate with each other and then move to their opponents to shake hands. The strains of the Hawthorn theme song echoed around the stadium.
We're a happy team at Hawthorn,
We're the Mighty Fighting Hawks.
We love our club and we play to win,
Riding the bumps with a grin at Hawthorn.
Come what may ...
The words of the much-loved song caught in Lois's suddenly constricted throat.
What if this was the last time?
She looked to her right - across the ground - in a desperate, futile attempt to pick out Seb and Barb so they might share this moment. It simply wasn't possible to pick out two individuals from the mass of people.
Clark's arm tightened around her. "Come on," he encouraged with a smile. "I'll sing if you will."
But Lois knew that if she attempted to sing, she would have no defence against the bulging clump of emotion wedged in her throat. She put her head on Clark's shoulder and rested it there.
A sudden premonition gripped her heart. This was good-bye. This was the end.
Hawthorn would merge with Melbourne - and she would leave her home and move to Metropolis.
Clark's hand rubbed up and down her arm - perhaps he understood.
Below them, the Hawthorn players congregated into a group and headed towards the race. The leading players had already disappeared when, towards the back of the group, Chris Langford pulled off his Hawthorn jumper and raised it to the crowd.
It was a simple gesture - yet it screamed defiance. The board had instructed the players that they were not to speak publicly about the merger. Langers didn't speak, but his loyalty, his passion, his unshakeable allegiance resounded powerfully as he held aloft the jumper he loved.
Lois's eyes filled with tears.
For one moment, she'd given up. She'd given up on Hawthorn.
But Langers hadn't.
And wasn't that the essence of *team*? When one stumbled, another rose to take up the challenge?
"Are you going down to the Cheer Squad?" Clark asked. Maybe he hadn't seen ... Maybe he had seen but hadn't comprehended the significance of Langford's gesture.
"In a minute," Lois said, wiping her eyes. "I just want to soak up this first."
Clark held her, and she drew comfort from his strength and his love.
"This could be the last time we play on the 'G," Lois said mournfully.
"What about next week?"
"Sydney won today. They're top of the ladder. If Richmond lose tomorrow, we'll finish eighth. That means we play the top team - Sydney."
Clark winced. "Ouch."
"It's gets worse," Lois said grimly. "Because they're above us on the ladder, they get the home final."
"So next week's game could be in Sydney?"
She nodded.
"When will the game be?
"The schedule for the first week of the finals will be announced tomorrow afternoon. I'm hoping the game will be Saturday afternoon ... but it could be Saturday night."
"Saturday night?" Clark squeaked. "What time would it finish?"
"Before eleven," Lois said, knowing he was thinking about their wedding. She smiled reassuringly. "But don't worry, big guy. Once we know for sure, we'll work out how we're going to be where we need to be."
"Who was the Hawthorn player who took off his jumper?"
So Clark *had* noticed. "That was Chris Langford, our full back. He's a proud hawk. The players have been officially gagged, but that ..." Lois signalled towards the arena. "... that was so typical of the man - to quietly make a stand for what he believes in."
"Do you think that will have an effect on the vote?"
"I don't know," Lois said. "But there are over sixty-three thousand people at this game - he sure chose the right place to do it."
Clark pulled her into his chest and surrounded her with his arms. He didn't say anything, but on a level so deep that words were redundant, she knew he understood the bewildering range of chaotic emotions that were churning through her. It was even possible that, with the advantage of some distance, he understood them better than she did.
||_||
Lois was in Clark's arms again an hour later as they stood next to the Jeep outside Gazza's home. They both knew it was late. They both knew that either Gazza or Narelle would be waiting up to let Clark into the house.
They both knew that the coming separation cloaked their hearts with desolation.
"Clark," Lois said. "This has been so amazing - being with you without having to hide away in my unit. I have loved every minute of it, and every time I think about what you did to get here, my heart just about melts with love for you."
Clark rested his hand on her neck just near where her hair fell. "I'm so glad I came," he said. "I'm so glad we will share these memories."
Lois chuckled suddenly. "There's something I should warn you about."
"Uh huh?"
"Gazza might try to give you some advice."
"About what?"
"Us."
"You and me? Doesn't he approve?"
"On the contrary," Lois said. "He tried to convince me that we should be together."
"He's a smart man," Clark said.
"Yeah." Lois giggled. "But he hides it well." She sighed and leant her head on his chest.
Clark held her against him, trying to cling to the slippery moments as they sped away.
She said nothing, but he sensed the poignancy of her mood.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
Lois slowly lifted her head from his chest. "I'm in a quandary."
"About what?"
"I want so much to *really* express my gratitude to you for coming, but ..."
His breath stalled as his mind grappled with the meaning behind her words. "Does *really* expressing your gratitude involve kissing?"
"Kissing ... tongues ... fervour."
Clark's heart somersaulted across his ribcage. "I'm going into Gazza's in three minutes," he said. "Until then, I'm all yours."
In the dim glow of the streetlight, he saw the gleam in her eyes. "You mean that?"
He nodded.
Lois slid her hands up his shoulders and around his neck. Her mouth slowly ... provocatively ... closed in on his. The first touch was light - yet it powered a surge of feeling through his body. She kept moving forward - closer, tighter. Then her mouth opened, and Clark's followed. Her tongue slipped forward and met his, then continued further into his depths.
The world slipped away, and Clark centred his entire consciousness on the amazing woman in his arms. He had never thought anyone could make him feel like this - had never thought anyone would ... could ... be this close to him ... this much a part of him.
Suddenly, he realised that his feet were no longer anchored to the ground. He wrenched a smattering of concentration from the fog of his mind and drifted downwards six inches until he connected with solid ground. Lois didn't seem to have noticed, so Clark returned his full attention to the pleasure of their kiss. When she eased away, they were both breathing heavily.
Lois smiled. "Did we gain a little altitude?" she asked.
Clark smiled sheepishly. "Just a little," he said.
"Good thing it's dark, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Did you mean to?" she said. "Or did I literally sweep you off your feet?"
"I didn't mean to," he said. "The ground dropped away of its own volition."
"Perhaps kissing in public is not such a good idea."
"Kissing in public *like that* is definitely not a good idea," Clark said. With a heavy mass of regret, he looked up at Gazza's house. "I should go."
"I know."
"Lois," Clark said. "I wish we could be together openly ... all the time ... every day ... every night."
"Yeah," she said with a smile as she slid her hand through his hair. "But that's what you get for falling in love with an Aussie."
He smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
"I'll be here. We'll have breakfast."
"A whole day together."
"I love you, Clark."
"I love you, L -"
"Hey, Rubber," Gazza called. "Haven't you finished saying 'goodnight' yet? Struth, mate, you're taking even longer than Narelle and I used to."
The figure silhouetted in the doorway waved impertinently.
Clark chuckled, gave Lois a final kiss, and picked up his bag. "G'night, gorgeous," he said.
"G'night, my love," she replied.
||_||
"So, Rubber." Gazza had settled into the armchair and wasn't looking in any hurry to go to bed. "You couldn't stay away."
"No."
Gazza grinned. "It's me, isn't it, mate?" he said. "You had to come back to see me?"
Clark chuckled. "Not you, Gazza. Not Melbourne. Not Browny. Not football. Not Hawthorn."
"That only leaves Flinders."
"Yup."
"Are you going to lure her back to America?"
"I don't think so."
Gazza whistled. "I hope you like flying."
"I do."
"I thought I had problems because Narelle barracked for Richmond," Gazza said. "Trying to keep a missus happy across continents isn't going to be easy."
"No."
Gazza stood from his chair. "You're always welcome to stay here, mate," he said. Then he winked at Clark. "But maybe next time you come, you'll be able to find other digs."
Clark stood and picked up his bag. "How would you feel if I stayed with Lois?"
"That's your business, mate. And hers. All I'm telling you is that I never thought the man existed who could make her so happy. More power to you, Rubber."
Clark extended his hand, and Gazza shook it.
"Thanks, mate," Clark said.
||_||
"Don't you just love the first day of spring?" Lois said.
"The first day of spring?" Clark questioned. "Isn't that in mid September?"
"Not here," Lois said. "Spring is September, October, and November - so today is the first day of spring ... and that means footy finals, and the intoxicating smell of mown lawns, and the sun finally having a bit of warmth in it."
Clark had to admit that, weatherwise, it was a great day. In fact, in *every* way, it was a day of absolute perfection.
The day had started early with breakfast on a ferry as it had gently glided down the Yarra River to Williamstown. Lois and Clark had wandered around the historic bay side suburb before riding the ferry back to the centre of Melbourne. From there, it had been a train to the outer eastern suburb of Belgrave, and onto the historic steam train to enjoy its old world charm as it chugged through the majestic Dandenong Ranges.
They had alighted at Lakeside station and eaten lunch in the al fresco area of the cafe that overlooked the leisurely swimming ducks and wading birdlife.
Now, Clark was lying on his back in the afternoon sun, using Lois's bag as a pillow. She was also lying on her back on the springy grass - using his stomach as a pillow.
Every moment of the day had been idyllic. Being with Lois ... exalting in the freedom to go wherever they wanted ... to drink coffee and be just like everyone else ... Clark truly felt he had everything.
And it was all because of the beautiful woman who, in less than a week, would be his wife.
"How's the footy going?" Clark asked lazily. Lois had been periodically checking the scores in the North Melbourne-Richmond game.
"It's still half-time," she replied. "North are seven points ahead of Richmond."
"If Richmond win, they stay in the Eight and Hawthorn don't play finals?"
He felt Lois nod. "I'll check the scores again later, but I don't want to think about it right now. I just want to enjoy being with you." She pulled the earphone from her ear and laid it near the radio. "Did you know Puffing Billy is a steam train?" she asked. "Before today?"
Clark chuckled and swept back her hair. "Not a clue," he said. "But as soon as you said we would be together, I knew I would enjoy it."
"And did you?"
"It was great. I was a bit concerned at first about sitting with our legs out of the train windows, but once I realised it was safe, it was fantastic."
"Yeah," Lois said with a little giggle. "It wouldn't do for you to go home with a broken leg."
"I was worried about *you*."
"I know," she said. "And I love you for it - but in this instance, I wasn't in any danger at all."
Clark continued stroking Lois's soft hair. "I have something to tell you," he said.
"Something good?"
"Not good ... but I'm hoping you won't be too upset."
"Uh oh."
Clark paused. He really didn't want to spoil the tranquillity of the moment - lying in the sunshine with Lois was like a little piece of heaven. But he couldn't *not* tell her. "When I went back to my apartment to pack, Mayson was there."
"Did you tell her to leave?"
"No."
He felt the jolt as Lois lifted her head from his stomach in instinctive response, but then she lowered it again. "Why?" she asked calmly.
Clark returned his hand to her hair. "Because she was in my bed - so I didn't even go into my apartment."
"You just left her there?"
"Uh huh."
Lois giggled. "How long do you think she stayed there before finally realising you weren't coming?"
For the first time, Clark could see a speck of humour in Mayson being in his bed. "However long she waited, it would be pretty demoralising when she had to get up and leave."
Lois's laughter rang around the park. "Perhaps she's *still* there."
"I hope not," Clark said fervently. "I have to go home eventually." He lifted his hand and watched as Lois's hair slid through his fingers. "You don't seem terribly upset," he ventured hopefully.
"I'm as mad as a cut snake that another woman was in your bed," Lois said. "Particularly as I've never been there." Her smile lightened her tone. "But you weren't in there with her, so ... meh. We have other things to think about."
"Thank you," Clark said. "Thank you for not getting upset."
"*You* didn't do anything wrong," Lois said. She lifted her head from his stomach and looked at him. "Is *that* why you've been wearing those old, comfy jeans?"
Clark glanced down with regret. "Yeah," he said. "Sorry."
Lois shook her head, grinning widely. "Don't be sorry," she said. "I love them."
"You do? Why?"
"The older the jeans, the softer the denim ... and the longer they've had to mould around your very nice butt," she said.
Clark couldn't contain his grin. "You are incorrigible," he said with great affection.
She rested her chin on his ribcage and gazed at him. "Are you trying to tell me, Mr Boy Scout, that you've never, ever checked out my butt?"
That was a loaded question if he'd ever heard one. He decided the truth was his best option. "I have," he admitted. "And I liked what I saw."
Lois grinned, clearly pleased with his response.
Clark decided to change the subject before she could ask if he had checked out anywhere else. "Can I ask you a question?" he asked.
"You already did," she said with teasing in her tone. "And I already said 'yes'."
He chuckled. "Not *that* question."
He felt her laughter resonate through her. "OK," Lois said. "What question?"
"You're probably not going to like it," he warned.
She lurched from her position again and sat up. "Spill," she said. "Because I can't imagine any question you could ask that I wouldn't like."
Clark was sure he'd probably found one. "You're only working two days a week," he said. "Can I help out financially?"
Her mouth dropped open. "Well, I wasn't expecting that," she said slowly.
"It makes sense," he said. "And it's none of my business, but it occurred to me that you might have donated money as well as time to Operation Payback ... and you must know I'd hate it if you were short ... So, can I help?"
She smiled and leant forward onto his chest and kissed him tenderly. "There's no need," she said.
"Why?"
"I had no knowledge of this, but every time Browny sent me out on my day off, he kept a record, and because of that, I had about two months of days-off-in-lieu stored up."
"So you've been getting full pay?"
"Yeah."
"Can I ask how long until you'll have to take time without pay?"
"It'll run out in a couple of weeks."
"What happens then?"
"If the merger goes ahead, all the donated money will be returned to the fans," Lois said. "The AFL will give the merged team six million dollars, so they won't need our money."
"But if the merger doesn't go ahead, there is going to be a huge job of rebuilding."
"And, until Hawthorn get back on their feet financially, much of it is going to be done by volunteers."
"Will you go back to the Herald Sun full time?"
"I've thought about what happens after the vote on September 16th, but I haven't been able to make any decisions about the future yet." Lois half smiled. "Is that OK?"
Clark reached up to smooth her hair where it had become mussed from lying on him. "It's perfectly OK," he said. "But I want you to promise me one thing."
"What?"
"Before you come anywhere near having to worry about finances ... about paying your rent or bills or whatever ... I want you to promise that you will tell me and let me help you."
"Aw, Clark," she said. "It was my decision to stop work and volunteer so much time to Operation Payback."
"And it's my decision to support you in that - both emotionally and any other way you need."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"Promise me?"
She nodded. "I promise."
"Everything I have is yours," he said. "Never forget that."
"Thank you," she said. "And my heart is yours. Don't you forget that."
||_||
At three-quarter time, the radio reported that North Melbourne were only two points ahead of Richmond, and Lois felt her anxiety rise again. What if all of Hawthorn's determination to secure the win last night wasn't going to get them a place in the finals?
However, in the last quarter, North pulled away, kicking nine goals to four. Lois turned off the radio with a happy sigh. "We're in," she said. "Finals next week."
But the game would be against Sydney, in Sydney, and that was going to be a tough assignment for a team that had only just scraped into the top Eight.
"What are your chances?" Clark asked.
"My head says slim," Lois admitted. "But my heart reminds me that I've seen Hawthorn prevail against great odds on many occasions. There's always hope."
"What happens if you lose?"
"That's the end of our season. No second chances."
"And if you win?"
"We move onto the second week of the finals. If we win that, we play in the Preliminary Final in Week Three. Win that, and we're into the Grand Final."
"That's a long road," Clark said.
Lois nodded. "And it's all uphill when you start at eighth."
Half an hour later, as Lois and Clark strolled back to the Lakeside station to board Puffing Billy for the return trip to Belgrave, the AFL announced the schedule for next week's finals. Lois disconnected her earphone from the radio and listened with Clark.
"Sydney versus Hawthorn, at the SCG, Saturday the 7th of September, 7:10 pm."
Lois looked at Clark. Clark - aghast - looked at Lois.
"It will be OK," Lois said. Ahead, the station platform was teeming with people. She took Clark's hand and guided him to a secluded spot under a tree. She leant back against the broad trunk of the ghost gum, hooked her arms around his waist, and smiled up to him. "The game will be finished by ten-thirty," she said quietly. "The wedding is at midnight, Melbourne time."
"Will that be enough time?"
She nodded. "You can take me to the farm, just as we planned. We can both get into the suits and go to Metropolis."
"But if Hawthorn lose, you -"
"We lose," Lois cut across him. "Whatever the result, I will put it behind me and get on with the most important part of the day."
"Are you sure?" Clark said. "It's not too late to postpone it."
"Spoken like a man who has no real idea of the detail that goes into something like this," Lois said, hoping humour would assuage Clark's anxiety.
"So, it's OK?" he asked uncertainly. "We go ahead?"
"Absolutely."
He exhaled deeply - with evident relief. "Will you go to Sydney for the game?"
Lois's mind was already buzzing with organisational details. "I'll ask Browny if I can have the North-Geelong game in Melbourne on Sunday. If he agrees, I'll go to Sydney on Saturday, and fly home early Sunday morning."
"Lois," Clark said. "You're going to be exhausted."
"But I think it will work well," she said. "Sydney's a big city. It's easy to get lost there. And if Esmeralda happens to be spying on me, it'll be easy to explain why I'm not at home on Saturday night."
"Lois," Clark said. "If Hawthorn lose, you're going to be devastated."
"It will be the end of our season," Lois said. "But the beginning of my life with you."
"Is that enough for you?"
"More than enough."
Clark placed his hands on the smooth bark of the tree, trapping Lois in his arms. He leant forward. "Thank you for agreeing to marry me," he whispered.
Lois tilted her head back against the solidity of the broad trunk, enjoying the sensation of being enclosed by his strong arms and pinned by his chest. "If you were to decide to kiss me," she murmured. "I would have no way of escape."
He kissed her - soft and warm. "Do you *want* to escape?" he asked quietly.
"Never," she whispered. "I want you."
||_||
Clark's cell phone beeped within seconds of him turning it on after landing at Metropolis International airport. He smiled in anticipation. As he'd expected, there was a message from Lois ... and also one from his best source, Bobby Bigmouth. He opened Lois's first.
'You'll never know how much it means to me that you came this weekend. I love you, big guy. I always will.'
Clark's smile broadened. He opened the other message.
'Info on the Boss. Cent Park noon. Bring food.'
The Boss? The mystical person who supposedly wielded such power he could demand exorbitant amounts of protection money? The person who had such a reputation for merciless revenge that no one had ever been willing to divulge even the tiniest detail about his identity?
The Boss was so elusive, and there was so little hard evidence for even his existence, Clark and Perry had aired the possibility that he was nothing more than the figment of someone's imagination.
Except the protection money had to go somewhere.
Clark pocketed his phone, rueing that he couldn't go to Lois. His flight had been delayed - again - and it was now after midnight in Melbourne.
And he had less than an hour to get to Centennial Park.
||_||
Mayson stared at her computer screen, but her mind was vacillating between two threads of thought - neither of which had anything to do with the story Perry had given her.
It was early Monday afternoon, and Clark was due back in the newsroom. He should be here already.
And she needed to work out the details of her strategy.
Deciding to take the green rock to the wedding had been the easy bit.
What she'd mulled over incessantly was exactly *how* to use it.
She didn't want anyone knowing *she* had it - that would be tantamount to hanging a notice outside her apartment building - 'MEANS TO STOP SUPERMAN - INQUIRE WITHIN.' The obvious way to distance herself from the green rock would be to plant it somewhere in the wedding venue, but the very thought of the precious green rock being out of her hands - even for a short time - sent her mind spiralling into a panic.
The green rock had to remain with her - but in such a way that no one suspected she was linked to Superman's affliction.
An idea had formed - but it would involve the sacrifice of her 'relationship' with Luthor. Did she still need him?
So far, going out with Luthor - even their photographs appearing in the social pages of the Planet - had had no noticeable effect on Clark. It certainly hadn't kept him from scurrying off to Australia. Her efforts weren't a total waste, of course - they had secured an invitation to Superman's wedding.
But perhaps she no longer needed Luthor. Perhaps ending that association could be turned to her own advantage were she to tell Clark that her dalliance with Luthor was the failed attempt of a broken heart to find new love.
Mayson smiled as the pieces of her plan fell into place.
She would take the green rock to the wedding. She would give Superman just enough exposure to prove beyond doubt that it rendered him weak and powerless.
Then, she, Mayson, would leave, taking the little green rock with her. She would engineer her removal from the wedding in such a way that it wouldn't seem as if she had any part in Superman's embarrassing little collapse.
Perfect.
And, as a bonus, she wouldn't have to put up with Luthor any longer - for all his oily charm and excessive money, he really was a nauseatingly unimpressive little man.
Mayson checked the clock on the wall. It was almost one o'clock - well past the time Perry had expected Clark back from his weekend rendezvous with the football reporter.
What if Kent decided to stay there?
Mayson pushed aside that terrible thought. Kent could be dumb - but he wasn't dumb enough to give up the position of assistant editor at the Daily Planet to chase a bit of Australian skirt.
Almost four days had passed since Mayson had waited ... and waited ... and waited for him to return to his apartment - and the sting of it was beginning to recede. He hadn't come - though his empty suitcase remained in his bedroom. Finally, she had concluded that he must have gotten out one suitcase only to decide to use another.
When she had slipped into his bed, she had been confident that this would be the move that finally broke through Kent's resistance. Hours later, she had slipped out - angry and frustrated.
It had been her boldest move ... and her biggest failure.
Mayson Drake did not enjoy failure.
But one failure did not mean the battle was lost.
The elevator doors opened, and Mayson glanced up, hoping Kent would emerge from it.
He didn't.
She again opened the web page of Lois Lane's profile and stared at the woman. What did she have that Mayson didn't? What was it about this very ordinary woman that had Kent flitting back to Australia like a bee drawn to honey?
What had Lois Lane offered him that Mayson Drake hadn't?
The elevator opened again, and this time, Kent walked forward. Mayson shot from her seat and headed to the water cooler, ensuring she arrived at the top of the stairs at exactly the same moment as Clark.
"Clark!" she said with surprise. "Welcome home. How was your trip?"
"Good, thanks." He sidestepped past her and continued down the stairs.
"Where was it you went?" Mayson asked as she followed him.
He dropped into his seat and turned on his computer. "Melbourne."
"Oh, of course." Mayson twirled a strand of her blonde hair in her fingers. Before cutting her ties with Luthor, she needed to know for sure that her ploy wasn't working. "I had a great weekend," she said.
"That's good."
"I had a date on Saturday night."
Clark logged on - he seemed preoccupied. Was it a story? Or the football reporter? Mayson waited in the hope that Kent would ask about her date.
He gave no indication that he considered this conversation needed to continue.
"Lex Luthor took me to the Metropolis Grand Ball," Mayson said. She swooned a little. "I have *never* had such a wonderful time."
Clark's eyes actually left his computer screen, and he seemed to digest what she had said.
Mayson waited - this was it. Clark was going to show some sign of resentment at her having been with Luthor.
"I'm really happy for you, Mayson," he said with Clark-Kent-patented sincerity. "I hope it works out for you and Mr Luthor."
With a tight smile, Mayson returned to her desk.
Yup, the thing with Luthor had to go. She would use him as her ticket to get to Superman's wedding, but, after that, she would no longer answer any calls from that self-important Mrs Cox.
Mayson smiled triumphantly. Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.
She'd finally have absolute proof of the power of the green rock over Superman, she'd cause disruption to his wedding, she'd inflict major humiliation on Linda King, and, in the process, she'd disentangle herself from Luthor.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
||_||
Notes
From Wikipedia ...
63,196 fans went to the Melbourne Cricket Ground to see Dunstall kick 10 goals and the Hawthorn Hawks win by one point. In a now-famous moment of defiance to both the league and his team's board, Chris Langford (Hawthorn's full back) took off his Hawthorn jumper and proudly held it above his head while leaving the field.
SCG - Sydney Cricket Ground
Vids
The Hawthorn theme song - logo plus audio (you might recognise the tune!)
