Well thank Cyril (or whichever god you worship) that’s over! Talk about an endless summer – it feels like forever since Poppy’s point got us over the line against Collingwood in round 23. (Apparently there were a couple of not-so-cheery finals played after that, but it’s so long ago who could be expected to remember?)

So here we are, 2017. And really, nothing much has happened since September. I mean, it’s not like we traded out a couple of all-time greats with 571 games and eight premierships between them, brought in a bloke from Richmond (Richmond!), and watched with a tear in the eye as the comeback of the most-loved figure in the game was guaranteed Hollywood billing when Roughy was made our new captain. Raaaaarrrrrffffff!!!! (And just quietly, I’m having a tenner on one of those Hemsworth brothers playing him in the movie).

Yep, it’s been pretty much business as usual, right down to Hodgey finding new ways to get suspended.

Here at Ghost Manor we like to focus on the positives, which is why there’s a sparkling new tank on the kitchen bench that’s home to the three newest members of the family – Jaeger, Tyrone and Tom (we’re pretty excited about Ricky Henderson coming on board too, and he’ll be welcomed with open arms and a pinch of brine flakes just as soon as the local pet shop can source another batch of brown and yellow goldfish).

My best mate Angus has pointed out that there’s hardly an insult left in the English language (or Greek, Afrikaans or Urdu for that matter) that I haven’t used on Ty Vickery during his eight years as a Tiger. Fair point. And I respond in the traditional manner: “$#@! $#% Gus, now he’s OUR Ty Vickery, and I couldn’t love him any more if he was one of my own kids. Or Burger. Or Gunners. Or Gibbo. But not Poppy. I couldn’t love anyone more than I love Poppy.”

Speaking of kids, it’s not all about the recruits. We reckon all of those pundits in the “footy world” have made their usual mistake by obsessing over anything they can spin into a headline, and have as good as written us off without giving a single thought to the rolled gold guns in the making who got a taste of it last season and are ready to explode in 2017. Sicily. O’Brien. Howe. Burton. Pittonet. Stewart. O’Rourke. O’Baby! And let’s not forget Kaiden Brand, who Angus is convinced is another dozen or so games, a perm and a silly moustache away from being the reincarnation of Chris Mew.

Read: Which players are in the mix for Round 1?

Yep, we’re looking forward, not back. As for Mrs Ghost asking why any utterance of the names “Mitchell” or “Lewis” in the vicinity of Ghost Manor since October has been punishable by a gold coin donation to the swear jar, I give you this: there’s almost enough cash in there to pay for the round three trip to the Gold Coast (flights AND accommodation), and the season hasn’t even started!

Not that we’re getting ahead of ourselves, oh no. But what better way to kick off our fifth premiership season in 10 years than a stoush with our old friends from Ess-er-don? I’m as excited as a Pointer Sister (YouTube it, young people), and if I can just get through seeing Rough (Raaaaarrrrrffffff!!!!) lead the boys through the banner without tearing up all over my retro 1970s “Gladys” Moncrieff jumper, I reckon me and Angus are in for the night of our lives.

We’ll be over on the Richie Vandenberg flank, up out of our seats and throwing ourselves into it like we’re playing on Adam McPhee. Because as every Hawks’ fan worth his or her vintage Dermie-with-a-blond-mullet badge knows, it’s not every week you get the chance to start a new campaign by beating the Bombers. Don’t miss it. Carna mighty Hawks!