To know you’ve been let down is the most awful feeling. To have high expectations built upon years of shared joy. To have a relationship underpinned by respect, admiration and trust. To be one of the true believers. Only to realise it’s all turned to hell in a handbasket and you’ve been dropped from a great height. It’s enough to break a brown and gold heart.

My mate Angus and I have been through a lot in the name of Hawthorn. We painted our boots gold and drank Wynvale wine from a cask in the `70s. We paid the price in the `80s, just like Jeansy’s little boy at the shoe shop (and growing a Dermie mullet complete with perm and peroxide rinse is some price to pay, let me tell you). We roared the tribal roar of true disciples when Don Scott ripped the Velcro off a Melbourne jumper at the merger rally, and all that was left was a bloody Melbourne jumper.

We cried for Crawf and raised a full-bodied toast to Stuey Dew in `08. We cashed in when Bulldog Brian won the Norm in 2013, then doubled up on Hodgey and had the house on Cyril. Oh yes, we were triple-blessed.

We rode out the Geelong drought and kept our cool when opposition fans taunted us that not even winning the premiership every year could make up for having Jeff as president. We even bought a new clash jumper each season that somehow managed to be worse than the last one, which you couldn’t even hide in the dog bed without worrying you’d get a knock on the door from the RSPCA.

All the big dates in our lives are marked in brown and gold. My wife’s birthday – March 1, same as Leigh Matthews’. Angus’s wedding anniversary – May 2, 1992, the day Jason Dunstall kicked 17 against Richmond at Waverley (and no, missing the Chief’s biggest day out just to get married wasn’t a good omen). Angus’s other wedding anniversary – June 5, 2004, aka the day Richie Vandenberg drew a line in the sand (not exactly a pointer to a union of peace, love and harmony either, but we won’t go there).

Yep, we’ve been hard core Hawks. But after all these years, all the highs and lows, the devotion, disappointments and dizzying delights, something is broken and I don’t know if it can ever be fixed. Something devastating has happened.

Angus has booked a Bali holiday. In September.

There’s only one word I can think of to describe such an act of utter betrayal. It’s not traitor. It’s not doubting Thomas (you’re right, that’s two words). It’s not even your favourite four-letter word with asterisks and exclamation marks and hashtag symbols so as not to upset the kids.

It’s just plain disgraceful.

Ok, we all know things aren’t as rosy as we’re used to at Ghost Manor. There’s an uncommonly dark cloud hanging over us and an unfamiliar pong in the air. But we’re Hawks, for Cyril’s sake. We don’t turn our backs and walk away. We don’t think, “Gee, I wish I’d gone to Melbourne with Lewy (but not West Coast with Mitch, that’s just crazy talk). We don’t fake a hammy and hide in a dark room. We stand up and fight.

We were in this competition for 36 years before we tasted the ultimate success. We finished on the bottom of the ladder nine times and in the bottom three 25 times before Graham Arthur lifted the cup and Kennedy’s Commandos bounded into footy folklore. We were the doormat the entire competition wiped its feet on. And we took every bit of mud and muck they sent our way, and we gritted our teeth and got better. We didn’t give up.

Because we’re Hawks. Not quitters, Hawks. When the going gets tough, we look the going square in the eye and say, “Is that all you’ve got?” We draw another line in the sand and stand our ground. And one thing we sure as Shiels don’t do - we don’t go to Bali.

It’s okay to say you looked forward to the bye more than Tom Mitchell looks forward to a stoppage. That you needed to recharge more than some people (who will remain nameless) needed to lighten up and take a bit of heat of the moment feedback on the chin. It’s even perfectly acceptable to force a smile and say that, last weekend, we were the equal of Adelaide and GWS and even (gulp) Essendon.

But come this Thursday night at Adelaide Oval, we need to stand as one. I’ll be on board to see us win the inaugural Ricky Henderson Cup. And Angus, if you’re in this fight with all your heart and soul, I’ll see you there.

Go Hawks.

Read: The Ghost of Glenferrie Round 11