The wind, a ghost of the late afternoon, swept across Mick Sherd Oval, carrying the roar of the crowd and the smell of freshly cut grass, a brittle, golden brown. In the grand-stands, a sea of maroon and white, swelled with a nervous energy, their cheers for the Harden Hawkettes mixing with the determined roars of the Crookwell She Devils supporters. This was it—the George Tooke Shield League Tag Grand Final—and the air itself felt heavy with the weight of expectation.
For the Hawkettes, this was more than just a game; it was a chance to claim a historic fourth consecutive premiership. For Georgia Smith, the pressure was twofold. Not only was it her first year coaching, but she was also on the field as a playing coach, with the hopes of her team resting on her shoulders. Her incredible season had been a testament to her skill; she had led the competition in tries, her tally surpassing the next two players combined. Yet today, her usual magic was held in check by a suffocating Crookwell defence.
The whistle shrieked, and the game began with a ferocity that caught the Hawkettes off guard. The She Devils came out like a storm. Their passes were crisp, their runs aggressive, and their defence a suffocating wall. Matilda Plumb was a blur of motion, her tag a flash of red as she weaved through Harden’s defensive line to score Crookwell’s first try.
The Hawkettes scrambled to respond, but the momentum was all wrong. They were chasing the game, a position they were unaccustomed to. Emma James, the Hawkettes’ rock and the heart of the team, felt the pressure mount with every missed tag and fumbled ball. The grand final was always intense, but today, with her celebrating her 150th game, it felt particularly significant. The milestone was heavy, and she willed her team to find their rhythm. But it was no use.
Crookwell’s Jayde Della sliced through the defence for another try, and the She Devils’ lead grew. As the teams walked off for halftime, the scoreboard was a grim reminder of their struggles. They were down, and the silence in their huddle was deafening.
Clare Smith would later admit, “I thought we were gone. There were several moments where I thought we were gone.” In the huddle, Georgia, her face streaked with sweat and her knees caked with dust from the turf, kept her voice steady. She didn’t yell or lecture; she simply reminded them of who they were.
“We trained hard this week,” she said, her eyes meeting each of theirs. “We’ve worked for this all season. Don’t drop your heads. Show them what Harden is made of.” The words were simple, but they were a life-line. The Hawkettes, despite being second best in the first half for large parts, found themselves in front 10-8 heading into the second half which was a different story entirely in terms of dominance.
Harden exploded onto the field, their movements now synchronised, their passes finding their mark. With renewed purpose, the Hawkettes pressed their advantage. Tamsyn Ritchie, known for her lightning speed, was a constant threat. Her first try was a masterpiece of evasion, a jinking, weaving run that left defenders grabbing at air. The crowd screamed her name as she planted the ball. Emma James missed the conversion, but the gap was narrowing.
The She Devils were still in the lead, but the fear in their eyes was now visible. Crookwell wasn’t finished, though. With the clock ticking down, Chloe Kemp scored a crucial try, and Jayde Della’s boot added the conversion. The score stood at 18-10, and it felt like the dream was slipping away. But the Hawkettes refused to give up.
Clare Smith’s quote echoed in the air. “Our girls dug deep.” They pushed forward, and it was Tamsyn Ritchie once more who delivered the goods. A quick tag, a clever penalty, and a tap-and-go from Emma James put the ball in her hands. Tamsyn raced for the line, the final defender a breath away, and slid over just in the nick of time. Emma James’s conversion was good this time, and the score was now 18-16.
The final moments were a blur of frenzied tags and desperation. Then, with only a few minutes left on the clock, the moment of truth arrived. A high tackle against a Harden player gave them a penalty right in front of the posts. It was Emma James’s kick, a chance to level the scores. The stadium fell silent. Every eye was on her, the pressure immense. She took a deep breath, lined up her kick, and sent the ball soaring. It sailed through the posts, the two points a thunderous statement. The scores were tied.
The final try was one for the ages. With not long left, the ball found its way into the hands of Grace Smith. She saw a gap—a small, fleeting window of opportunity—and she took it. She sprinted, her legs churning, her lungs burning, and as she lunged for the try line, the final whistle not far away. The ball touched down signifying what the Hawkettes had worked so hard for, victory.
The Hawkettes collapsed into a heap of exhausted, ecstatic bodies. Tears streamed down their faces as they embraced. It wasn’t just a win; it was an escape, a triumph forged in the crucible of adversity. As the crowd descended onto the field, a blur of green and gold, the players were mobbed by family and friends.
the lead.
Emma James stood on the field, a dazed smile on her face. “150 games is a lot,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion, “but I wouldn’t want to do it with any other side, so I’m very grateful. The whole town sort of came down to support us, and there’s nothing better than getting the win in front of your friends and family.”
Georgia Smith, still on the field with her teammates, was hugged by her parents and friends. Her face was a mix of exhaustion and pure, unadulterated joy. “Oh my God, I’m so happy,” she would later say. “They made us fight for it, and I’m so proud of our girls. We stuck here, and we were down in the first half, and we didn’t drop our heads. I couldn’t be happier as it was my first year coaching, and it doesn’t get better.”
The cheers continued long after the trophy was lifted. This wasn’t just a grand final victory; it was a story of a team that refused to quit, a community that stood by them, and a legacy that was cemented in the heart of a small town. They were the Harden Hawkettes, and they were champions. Again.
– Tully Potts
The South West Slopes Times covers an area approximately the size of Fiji in country NSW. We look after a population of more than 50,000 people with our staff servicing 7 major towns and dozens of villages with our story telling footprint.
We offer weekly print editions at $3 a copy and we also offer digital subscriptions across 3 months $30, 6 months $60 and 12 months $120.
We are one of the last truly local independent family run newspaper businesses in the state.
Contact us today to find out how we can promote your business or organisation across our huge network by emailing ads@thetimes.net.au or by calling 0413 763 216.
If you have a news tip, lead or scoop for us please make contact as we love celebrating our communities. You can contribute articles via our South West Slopes Times website.
