Saturday twilight at the ‘G and Hawthorn played the host who tidied up before guests arrived and then locked the doors anyway. Melbourne came in post-shakeup, full of bark, but the Hawks took one look, shrugged, and let Jack Gunston go full vintage, slotting seven of the most smugly professional goals you’ll see, on the way to a 13.14 (92) to 8.8 (56) win.
By quarter-time it felt less like a contest and more like a shirts v skins scratch match between a league side and the magoos invited to training. With finals an impossibility even with the best creative accountants the MCC has to offer, this was always going to be about pride and potential for the Dees, and they came up short in both.
Hawthorn, however, has hit a patch of form where no team can be looking forward to lining up against them as the countdown to the flag begins.
Ins and Outs
Hawthorn resisted the urge to tinker with a winning formula and went in unchanged. The 23rd man, Luke Breust, was kept under glass until the third term, then smashed his way in with a pure storybook snap and a standing ovation that had even Sam Mitchell applauding on the bench.
Melbourne brought back Steven May and recalled Harry Sharp, with Josh Adams omitted and Caleb Windsor sidelined (hamstring). Sensible moves on paper; less enjoyable when Gunston started telling the camera crews in attendance which side they should be on to take snapshots of him as he stepladdered the fullback with regularity.
The Start
Any game with people like Ginnivan, Oliver, May and Sicily featuring was always going to have a controversial moment, so it’s a little unexpected that the first such event would be laid at the feet of Dylan Moore.
His snap shot from a dribbler out of the ruck contest was an opportunistic effort that looked good, but he immediately tapped his wrist to show his teammates to get into formation. The umpire missed that bit, signalling a goal after the man in the field gave the all clear. Even after the two flags were waved, Hawthorn still stayed in a defensive posture as the score review was conducted, and as per usual, the resolution of the Nokia 3310 camera they had gaffa taped to the poles around the ground couldn’t show any higher definition than your average video of the Loch Ness monster, so even though Moore was willing to call it touched, the ump made the call and the bloke in the ARC couldn’t convincingly over rule based on the footage.
You can’t lay blame at Moore here. Beyond doing a soccer-style goal concession, he did all he could. They really need to sort out the score review footage though.
From there Jack Gunston got a quick couple before Meloburne managed to trouble the scorer, with a nice major from Petty in his hundredth game. It was a steady squeeze from Hawthorn from that point on though, finishing the quarter with goals to Watson and Dear as they led 5.3 to one straight.
The second quarter settled down into a bit of a lacklustre affair that can happen at this time of year. Hawthorn players knew the game was in hand, so they wanted to avoid injuries that would put them out of the team coming into finals, while Melbourne wanted to just get 2025 over.
Moore got his second early in the second term, and Newcombe was getting plenty of the ball to shift from congestion into space — a key part of how Hawthorn were able to be so effective when breaking away from a contest. Gunston was getting loads of the ball and taking his chances with it, even if he missed a few that should have been majors.
Stephen May was trying to curb Gunston’s influence, but didn’t quite have the engine to stay with him, though he seems to have plenty of breath to throw advice at his teammates and the ump if he felt they were lacking in their responsibilities.
Oliver pulled one back, but for the most part, this was a game that had entered into a fatalistic tone. Melbourne knew they were cooked, Hawthorn knew they held all the trump cards, it was just a matter of playing out the hand.
The second half
Breust’s entry as sub was pure theatre. He drifted onto a chain, wound up from 50, and curled one home as the MCG gave him the kind of ovation that any player pullign on a pair of boots would be happy to receive.
Meanwhile Hawthorn kept the screws on: structure behind the ball neat as a nun’s underwear drawer, and ball use that was clean, direct and almost arrogant in the casual nature of it.
Melbourne had their moments, but every time they shaped a run, Hawthorn’s defensive web caught the thread and tugged. The Hawks’ structure held; Melbourne’s frayed, the scoreboard ticked over with a sense of inevitability.
The finish
A lot of criticism in this game will be levelled at Melbourne, with Goody gone, Gawn likely to get an AA jacket and a midfield that should be able to make the most of his ability to feed them the sherrin, but to their credit they did finish off the game well. Sure, Hawthorn might have spent the last quarter as a cool down and injury-prevention exercise, but it’s a credit to their secondary players that Langford, van Rooyen and Pickett gave the team that had been scalded badly all game some late-afternoon aloe vera. It didn’t change the tone of this game, but it might mean a few less chairs being hurled across the room on Monday’s review session.
Hawthorn had banked it early, managed the load late, and walked off looking like a team that knows exactly who they are a fortnight from September. The Dees? Plenty of effort once the pressure relaxed, but the invoice for the first half landed with interest.
Controversial moment
Moore’s first goal is going to live rent-free in talkback land for a few days. He said it was touched. Players gestured it was touched. The review didn’t overturn it. Score stood. Depending on your worldview, that’s either proof the system worked (insufficient evidence) or a reminder that an honesty policy in elite sport is about as effective as a reminder to tap on aboard a Melbourne tram. The half-time melee—Sicily and Petty the chief conversationalists—Might have added spice, but it seemed almost a formality? It was the butter chicken of spiciness, still enjoyable, but really just there because no one was sure what they wanted. Sicily was keeping his true assholery in reserve for finals.
Midfield matchup
Clayton Oliver and Tom Sparrow carried the shovel for Melbourne. They were busy, fierce and occasionally surgical, and when Christian Petracca joined in, the Dees looked briefly, tantalisingly dangerous. The problem? Territory. Hawthorn’s engine room (Moore the connective tissue, with Jai Newcombe setting tempo and Jarman Impey springing the launch pad) turned the same ball into better field position and cleaner looks. It’s as if both midfields ordered the same raw ingredients; Hawthorn’s chef just plated it like a degustation while Melbourne produced a homely stew (but forgot to add a crusty loaf of bread to dip with. Yeah, it’s dinner time, as I’m sure you can tell).
Ruck Battle
Max Gawn versus Lloyd Meek was a match up I’ve been looking forward to. Meek has shown he can go toe-to-toe with the big boys of the game, and Gawn generally avoids using his size when his technique will do the job.
Gawn spent long stretches playing firefighter in defence and still found ways to influence at stoppage; Meek held his ground and gave Hawthorn enough of a platform to keep their shapes. Meek did his job well, but Gawn had a few more taps, more tackles and had 12 intercepts to zip, so it’s hard to not give him the chocolates, even if I really like the way Meek went about his game.
The Stats that Sting
- The game was essentially set up by quarter-time: five goals to one in Q1 will do that. Not a fancy stat, just a very loud one.
- Dylan Moore’s game-high 32 touches and two goals. When your connector also finishes, systems purr.
- Gunston’s first half alone featured a career-high six marks inside forward 50. Six. In a half. And how many of those were contested? One. Which shows just how little pressure was put on the Hawthorn forward delivery.
- Melbourne supporters noted the Dees actually shaded some headline numbers—inside 50s, hitouts, clearances, contested ball—but were punished on quality, not quantity. It’s fine to switch the ball around looking for a way to transition into attack, but not at the cost of getting the ball in there quickly before the defence is set up. Far too often, Melbourne were happy to go slow and steady rather than take the game on with pace and flair. It turned their strategy into one of trying not to lose by a hundred instead of trying to claw back the margin and win.
- Centre Clearances 15-7 Melbourne’s way. Let’s be clear here, with GAwn, Oliver and Petracca in the middle, if you’re winning the centre clearances by more than double your opponent’s numbers, you should be scoring a lot more than eight goals. A very concerning stat.
- Marks. Hawthorn has 102 to Melbourne’s 68, with 20 inside 50 marks to eight. That’s a huge black mark on their ability to pressure the ball and the contest.
Notable players
Jack Gunston — Seven goals and time stood still every time he led. Equalled his career-best bag and pushed his season tally to 60. At 33. There’s a certain black comedy in a forward this smooth being allowed this much room. He’s now second on the Coleman ladder, and just needs to back up his form with a clean, easy bag of 20 goals in the final match against the reigning premiers for his chance at taking home the medal. The stats will say it’s unlikely, but weirder things have happened. I can’t think of any right now, but I’m sure there must be one or two.
Dylan Moore — The human jumper cable. Thirty-two and two, seamless link work, and a nice, inconvenient knack for finishing the chains he starts.
Jarman Impey — The metronome off half-back. Every time Melbourne blinked, he exploited the gap. Not flashy, just relentlessly productive.
Max Gawn — Stood up in an unpleasant job: ruck, defence, therapist. Without his effort at the ruck contest, this would have been an all-time smmashing.
Harrison Petty & Jacob van Rooyen — Two apiece and the late resistance that turned a mauling into a lesson. Not nothing.
Final thoughts
Hawthorn looked like a finals side because they played like one: ruthless start, tidy structure, and a complete refusal to make life easy for an opponent still figuring out who does what without a coach to hide behind. Melbourne had spirit—especially late—but not the cohesion to turn possession into pressure, or pressure into points. If you’re a Hawks fan, you’re shopping for September outfits. If you’re a Dees fan, you’re rewriting the to-do list and underlining “entries” three times in red pen.
Next up
Hawthorn pack their carry-on for Brisbane and a measuring-stick game at the Gabba to close the home-and-away season. With both sides looking to simultaneously make a statement and also escape a late-season injury, it’ll be an interesting match up. Whoever wants to take the game on early will win, sing the song and forget all about it at they look to finals for a real victory.
If I had to pick, I’m going for Hawthorn. They have a bit more to prove, and will want to throw their weight around a bit. Hawks by 13.
Melbourne finish out 2025 with pride to salvage and a Collingwood squad that has lost four of their last five, with the sole win coming against Richmond. They desperately need to be competitive here, or else they’ll fund themselves out of the top four and their week one opponent will come in hungry to get their mad monday started.
I really wish I could find a way to back Melbourne here, but I think Collingwood need it too badly. Pies by 43.
