FOR sport to be truly great theatre, it requires a hero, a villain, an object of their joint desire and a tight battle to see who gets to live happily ever after.
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Saturday's AFL Grand Final provided it all, except the tight battle bit.
In Luke Hodge and Lance Franklin, the occasion had its two lead characters with the premiership cup representing their quest.
Think Robin Hood, the Sheriff of Nottingham and Maid Marian, only more in the 1991 Prince of Thieves incarnation when Alan Rickman made such a good sheriff that you couldn't help warm to him, in much the same way as even the most diehard Hawk still can't really hate Buddy, despite what they might say.
As Hood had his merry men, so Hodge had his happy team, both attempting to rob from the rich, the dastardly sheriff having taken full advantage of the big city's cost of living allowance.
It was all going according to script, until Robin had Marian safely in his grasp so early that he chose to kiss the sheriff instead.
Franklin had been almost universally anointed the game's most pivotal figure, but Hodge was subsequently voted as such.
The day had been all about one-on-one confrontations, not just Hodge v Franklin but Lewis Jetta v Cyril Rioli, David Hale v Mike Pyke, Kurt Tippett v Brian Lake and, for those watching on TV, Tom Waterhouse v The Cripps Ambassador.
The Hawks seemed to win them all. By half-time they led by seven goals and as Cameron Ling pulled out the predictable "unbelievable intensity" card, Bruce McAveney understated: "They've put themselves into a match-winning position."
By full-time the margin was 10 goals and if Channel Seven's graph hadn't adjusted its parameters, the worm would have been munching its way through the impressive mahogany dresser beneath the TV I was watching.
Sydney's heaviest defeat under John Longmire was also the biggest ever grand final loss by a minor premier.
In truth, from half-time onwards the only issue in any doubt was who would win the Norm Smith Medal, Hodge catching the eye with his outstanding performance, Buddy kiss and sparkling red footwear which, like Dorothy's, forewarned a devastating tornado.
In three speeches at the last two Grand Finals, twice as winning captain, once as best on ground, Hodge has begun by voicing his team's respect for the opposition. Asked about his second Norm Smith, he pointed out that 18 Hawks had polled at last week's Brownlow count — enough to field a full team. Asked for an adjective to describe his state of mind, Hodge said he comes from Colac so might struggle there.
A truly class act, the world of sport could do with a few more Luke Hodges, even if it makes Jesinta Campbell a tad nervous.
And for all Waterhouse's efforts, the biggest gamble of the day had paid off handsomely in Alastair Clarkson's trust of Rioli's unpredictable hamstring.
Tasmania could reflect on a healthy contribution to the outcome, not just in the name emblazoned on the winners' guernseys but in the influential Grant Birchall, unsung football operations manager Chris Fagan, five out of five contribution of stand-in coach Brendon Bolton and four out of four record at his old stamping ground Aurora Stadium where no team came within seven goals and the Hawks have now won 11 straight.
The AFL Grand Final is capable of producing cliff-hanging thrillers, think Sydney-West Coast Part 1, Sydney-West Coast Part 2 and St Kilda-Collingwood Part 1.
But this was a great story more in its subplot than its execution. Given the injuries to so many key players and even coach, the Hawks had overcome huge adversities to end up smiling — truly riding the bumps with a grin.
And much like Bryan Adams' Everything I Do I Do It For You nearly a quarter of a century ago, the Hawks' club song was destined to play endlessly until all mankind could stand it no longer.