Seventy-One
Hawthorn's dominant 1971 premiership team, one of the finest in League history.
When Peter Crimmins rose around 10.00am on the morning of Saturday 25 September 1971, he glanced out the window of his Ferntree Gully home and knew he had a torrid afternoon ahead. It was VFL Grand Final day, and the overcast, chilly conditions told him the football was going to spend a lot of time on the MCG turf. Predictions were for a high temperature of just 18 degrees by the first bounce some four-and-a-half hours later, so players of Crimmins’ ilk knew they would be required to ride the bumps and dodge elbows—and anything else that came their way—at the bottom of congested packs, trying to win the ball and send it forward for their team. The rovers, ruck-rovers and centremen who did that best for either Hawthorn or St Kilda would go a long way to securing their club’s second premiership.
Hawthorn and St Kilda met four times in 1971. In round 4, the Hawks kicked 10 goals to three in the second half to win by 58 points; in round 15, the Hawks again prevailed, by 23 points. Both games were willing contests, but the second semi-final was something altogether different. A number of participants later said it was the most brutal match they played in, with the Hawks holding on to win by two points after leading by 33 at the last change. Hawthorn hard man, Kevin Heath, expected nothing less than a bruising, frenetic game. “Every time we played St Kilda that year it was hard, and that goes back to Jeansy (Saints coach Allan Jeans) and John Kennedy—it was the type of coaches they were. They both expected you not to give an inch.”
Crimmins had all that on his mind as he sipped his white coffee, one sugar, and chewed into a piece of Vegemite-covered toast opposite pregnant wife, Gwen, at their kitchen table that morning. Little was said between them over breakfast, but he knew, as did she, that nowhere on the most-watched patch of land in Australia that afternoon would it be more ferocious than the places Crimmins was expected to put himself.
Peter had struggled to doze off on Grand Final eve, sitting up into the early hours watching Channel Seven’s Football Marathon. Struggling to sleep was a normal Friday night for Crimmins: all part of the internal build-up. His mind raced during the lead-up to games, contemplating potential outcomes, but he knew he would be fine come the first bounce. On this particular morning, he was more than ready for the biggest contest of his life, to that point at least. He told one reporter during the week, “This is the one I have been waiting for since I was a kid. I began playing football when I was nine … But somehow I have missed out on a Grand Final until now.” He had never been more ready.
Hawthorn forward Bob Keddie described the atmosphere when the players ran onto the MCG as like being sucked into a vortex. Bruce Stevenson felt “like an ant in the Colosseum.” Robert Day was so worked up he felt “rooted” before the team even hit the ground. “I didn’t think I’d make it to the centre circle, because I had used up so much nervous energy leading into the game—it was just incredible,” he recalled.
Crimmins stood close to the centre circle for the opening bounce, scanning the match-ups to ensure everyone was where he was supposed to be. With captain David Parkin stationed deep in defence, Crimmins, as vice-captain, saw to it that everyone up field was following team plans. Ironically, he was the only Hawthorn player not alongside his opponent for the start of the game. Crimmins then stepped behind Don Scott, as the ruckman charged in and won the first hit-out. The Sporting Globe’s Ian McDonald described the scene as being “like Flinders Street Station at peak hour,” such was the movement in the region Crimmins was operating in from the outset.
St Kilda attacked early. Ruckman Carl Ditterich gave the first indication that the game was going to be a no-holds-barred contest when he round-armed Les Hawken. Commentator Michael Williamson described it as “certainly a vigorous tackle.” It was an understatement from the man affectionately known within the industry as ‘Golden Tonsils’. Vigour and valour were on show from start to finish, and Williamson would utter some of the most memorable lines of what was fast becoming a storied broadcasting career.
Geoff Angus was busiest of the rovers early, helping set up full-forward Peter Hudson to mark in front of Bob Murray. Hudson’s fine goal from 45 metres, with a swirly breeze on an acute angle, opened the scoring. It also edged him within two goals of equalling the 37-year record for goals in a season (150), held by South Melbourne’s Bob Pratt. The Hawks appeared to have more system to their play, although the contest was scrappy, rushed and particularly physical. Crimmins, on top of Ross Smith, was leading the way around the packs.
Peter Crimmins and St Kilda’s Wayne Judson battle for the ball during the 1971 Grand Final.
But in a blow to Hawthorn, who were being forced to defend repeat attacking drives by the Saints, Hawken—who entered the game with hamstring soreness—was limping. A scramble in the goal square at seven minutes resulted in Stephen Theodore snapping St Kilda’s first goal. Then Leigh Matthews, with eyes only for the ball, cannoned into Smith. Kevin Heath was looking ominous in the air, Des Meagher was providing run and drive, Scott was everywhere, Parkin, Day and Kelvin Moore were thwarting the Saint forwards, and Hawthorn led by two points as 10 minutes ticked over.
Then, it happened.
Murray dropped a chest mark in front of Hudson, the ball spilled toward the boundary and as Hudson recovered quickest and pursued the ball, from his right came a charging Kevin Neale. Neale’s right round-arm fist collected Hudson’s ear and jaw; the full-forward, also cannoned into by Wayne Judson from the left, hit the deck and immediately grabbed his head. Umpire Peter Sheales ran in to pay a free kick against Judson—not Neale—as Williamson cried, “Hudson’s hurt! Hudson’s hurt!”
Crimmins retrieved the ball and was soon standing over his full-forward, helping trainers lift the groggy Hudson to his feet. The cheekiness of Crimmins was on display, as he buzzed around his wonky and dazed mate and asked him to handball off. Hudson didn’t give it a thought. His set shot, taken from a similar position to where he scored his first goal, never looked like scoring. It was the first of a number of signs that showed Hudson had been concussed in the violent incident.
The game was occurring at a frenetic pace, each contest as willing as the last. Despite scrappy skills, it was edge-of-your-seat viewing. Hudson missed a number of gettable chances throughout the opening quarter, but a brilliant late snap brought up his second goal and helped Hawthorn edge in front by a point at quarter-time.
Ninety seconds into the second quarter, at a ball-up 20 metres from Hawthorn’s attacking goal, Crimmins produced what remains one of the two most memorable on-field moments of his career; the other would come in the final term. He started the play some eight metres behind ruckman Alan Martello, and was two steps behind Smith as Sheales bounced the ball. Both rovers were on the move, intent on timing their run to be at the foot of the contest when the ruckmen competed. As if by tactical plan, at the last second Mick Porter stepped in front of the moving Smith, impeding his run, which enabled Crimmins to gain separation and read the ball off hands. Crucially, despite Sheales’ bounce favouring Brian Mynott, the St Kilda ruckman palmed the ball straight down on to Crimmins’ chest; he took three quick steps and, despite his momentum pushing him towards the behind post, managed to snap the ball back through the goals.
After an arm wrestle, it was the Saints who shifted the momentum their way. Hudson’s third goal, deep into the quarter, equalled Pratt’s record. Police ringed the oval to deter any ground invaders. The show of force must have also deterred the players: not one congratulated Hudson for reaching the milestone. Crimmins finished the half with 11 kicks, one mark and a goal, but St Kilda led narrowly: 4.6 (30) to 4.4 (28).
The Hawthorn dressing room was like a casualty ward at half-time. Hawken was done for the day, Hudson was concussed, as was Day who thought it was Sunday. “Between Huddo and I, it was a toss of the coin for who they were going to take off,” Day explained. “But you had to keep Hudson on if you had the choice between us.” Sure enough, Kennedy replaced Day with 20th man, Wilson. With Ken Beck having earlier replaced Hawken, there were no reserves to call upon in the second half. “We came in at half-time a bit despondent, we were getting caned,” Angus admitted. Porter and Keddie—who had entered the game with a knee injury—had recorded just one kick apiece, Alan Martello just three, yet all received a stay of execution due to the mounting injury toll. “We were barely down to 18 at half-time,” Keddie recalled. “There’s no doubt one of us would have gone had we had fit guys on the bench to replace us. I reckon I would have gone, because I was hobbled.” Instead, all three would play important roles in the second half.
Crimmins was struggling to have an influence after the main break; with just two kicks, it was easily his quietest quarter of the match. However, The Herald’s Bob Davis praised Crimmins and Scott for their willingness to get to every contest. Martello was still struggling, as was Hudson, whereas Smith and Stuart Trott were in everything for the Saints. So, too, Ditterich, who, having missed the club’s 1966 premiership due to suspension, was playing an inspired period for his team. He was attacking everyone who crossed his path, at one point removing a tooth from Heath in a blow that resulted in the big Hawk seeing stars. For Heath’s teammates, it was a significant moment. “I heard the crowd roar and I turned around to see Heathy flat out on the ground,” Leon Rice recalled. “From St Kilda’s perspective, it was a reasonable thing to do because, if Heathy was knocked out, then it only left 17 fit Hawthorn blokes. But Heathy got up. We knew what had happened, and that got us going.”
With Ditterich threatening to take control of the game, he suddenly found himself caught between Wilson and Porter. Both deliberately belted him, but it was Porter’s round-arm fist, more brazenly brutal than Neale’s earlier whack on Hudson, which had the most effect. Matthews’ flying elbow soon connected with the head of the dominant Trott in another sickening blow. Former Saint, Neil Roberts, wrote in The Sporting Globe that “the wind was dying, the rain was drying, the Saints were flying, but the Hawks weren’t dying—what a struggle.”
With just minutes left in the quarter, Rice snapped a brilliant left-foot goal; the Hawks’ only goal for the quarter, to the Saints four. Crucially, it cut the margin to under four goals. The 20-point difference at three-quarter time was a much more gettable target: 5.7 (37) to 8.9 (57). But Kennedy was uncharacteristically pessimistic during his final address to his players. “It looked pretty grim,” the coach recalled in 2014. “We were five kicks down and I remember thinking at the last break that we had all this talent, we were the best side in the League, and yet we were looking down the barrel.” Rice said, “‘Kanga’ came out to the huddle and was saying things like, ‘go down fighting’ and ‘don’t give up, do it for the guernsey.’ It was like he had given up hope that we could win, which was a bit unusual for him. But I think he was using reverse psychology.”
What happened next has gone down in Hawthorn folklore. Moore explained: “After Kennedy disappeared, Scotty got us together, which was not something he usually did. He said: ‘That’s f…ing bullshit! We can f…ing win this!’” Rice said Scott “got us believing we were still in it.” Minutes later, Crimmins stood alone at the Members’ side of the centre circle, then ambled unopposed in behind a fired-up Scott at the first bounce, giving him the perfect view of his ruckman’s opening hit-out; a thump forward that would start a fightback. Hawthorn attacked and, within 90 seconds, Matthews was free-kicked and bombed a long goal. Suddenly, the Hawks had belief. The first of Keddie’s four last-quarter goals came from a scramble in the goal square. Kennedy had moved him deep forward after his quiet first three terms, pushing Hudson out to centre half-forward in what would become an inspired call. “Scotty took over the stoppages for us, Crimmo and Geoff Angus went into the roving department, and Leigh (Matthews) went to half-forward,” Keddie explained. “They all proved great moves. And we played on at all costs.”
Crimmins gets his hurried kick away despite the close attention of Wayne Judson, while Leon Rice (partly obscured) and Ken Beck watch on.
The Saints’ lead was cut to eight points in just four minutes with Hawthorn dominating possession. The ball was bounced in the centre again, Rice belted it to Martello who kicked Hawthorn forward. Crimmins sprinted from half-forward, gathered the loose ball 30 metres out at full pace—a la the second quarter—and, after seven short, quick steps, snapped truly from 20 metres. “Through comes little Crimmins,” Williamson yelled, “Crimmins has it, he’s running into an open goal; he kicks…he’s put it through! That’s his second!” The crucial and uplifting goal remains the most iconic and memorable on-field moment of Crimmins’ 176-game career. “What I remember of the 1971 Grand Final, you could write on the back of a postage stamp,” Matthews conceded in 2019. “[But,] I can remember that crumbing goal in the forward line that Crimmo kicked; that’s one of the few standout memories I have of that game.”
Angus was in awe of Crimmins’ inspiring final quarter. “You had Peter flying through, continually urging us on. He was one of the few instigators of the win—he didn’t have to have the ball to make an impact. He would just be running and urging. If the ball came out to him, well and good. But if it didn’t, he kept running along with it anyway. There was no stopping us once everybody got their tails up.”
When Parkin streamed out of defence at 16 minutes and kicked to centre half-forward, the resultant wild snap and bounce-through goal by Scott sent the crowd’s octane levels into overdrive. It had been electric inside the MCG since the opening bounce, but after Scott’s tumbling goal it reached its zenith. Kennedy jumped uncontrollably on the sidelines, in the commentary box Bob Skilton’s voice rose to almost eardrum-splitting volume, and the Hawks were suddenly 13 points in front. It was Keddie who was jumping two minutes later, after a centred kick from Crimmins ended with the make-shift full-forward snapping a great goal, having beaten three opponents. Next, it was Hudson’s turn to celebrate, after Keddie unselfishly handballed to him on the goal line for what was his 151st goal…or was it? Hudson’s elation quickly turned to disbelief when Sheales, correctly, disallowed the goal having signalled time-off. Sheales forced Keddie to kick from behind the mark—his fourth goal of the term. Hudson would finish the day, and the season, in a tie with Pratt on 150.
Historically, the on-ground scenes at the wail of the final siren on Grand Final day have been some of the most indelible and poignant, the most emotive reactionary images to become etched in our memories. The jubilation or despair witnessed in those few seconds, from all participants, sums up the highs and the lows of sport. When, at the 32-minute mark, the final siren reverberated inside the MCG, signalling a stunning seven-point Hawthorn victory—12.10 (82) to 11.9 (75)—Crimmins’ reaction captured the essence of everything he had strived for since first kicking a football with his brothers in their Shepparton back yard. The instant the siren sounded, Crimmins leapt into the air with both fists held high above his head, then dropped to the ground, banged the turf twice with his hands in pure elation, before getting to his feet and jumping into the arms of Matthews.
Crimmins had run himself to exhaustion in the final quarter, accumulating six kicks and covering as much ground as any player. Yet, post-siren, he suddenly found a new reserve of energy—a sugar rush of enthusiasm. Those few seconds were why he played football. He would never forget that moment. And every game, every training session thereafter, was performed with the sole motivation to experience that final-siren jubilation another time. Sadly, he would never again get that opportunity. The 1971 decider was his second, and last, appearance in a final.
The jubilant Hawthorn players ran through a hastily-erected banner after winning the 1971 Grand Final. Pictured (from left) are: Des Meagher, Bruce Stevenson, Geoff Angus, Norm Bussell and Crimmins.
This is an edited extract from CRIMMO: THE PETER CRIMMINS STORY, available through daneddybooks.com, books.slatterymedia.com & hardiegrant.com/au/publishing.