On the Richter scale of embarrassing losses, Chris Scott was staring down his own Krakatoa at half-time on Monday. The 2014 thrashing at the hands of a crack Sydney side was bad. The Miracle on Grass was infuriating. And last week was an abomination. But this loomed as next level. This was Hawthorn. This was a bunch of kids. This was their most bitter rival, supposedly at its lowest ebb.
The bookmakers, fresh from their mauling from Peta Murphy at the Senate inquiry, had earlier installed the Cats as $1.20 favourites. Anyone who had watched Geelong closely in the last fortnight would have balked at those odds. The Hawks, after all, were one of the few teams to work Geelong’s locks last year. And in a season where they’d copped every dud time slot imaginable, this was one of their few marquee fixtures. For Hawthorn people, the prospect of leaving their bitter rival 0-4 and stone motherless last was as tantalising as winning a final.
