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Hawthorn coach Alastair Clarkson was not the only one surprised to see career full-back Brian Lake not just in the forward 50 at the start of the second half of the qualifying final against Sydney, but leading from the goal square and kicking a goal that began a rout.
Brendan Whitecross, startled by the sight of Lake running at him, looked around to make sure he was at the right end of the ground, then mouthed at Lake: "What's going on?" It is a recurring – indeed defining – question in Lake's maverick career.
His explanation is deceptively simple. The modern game demands that backmen push up. At worst, Lake would have given himself a chance to mark a high ball, at which he excels, but this time saw a clear path to the goal square. "You've got to tease your opponent a bit, see if he goes with you," he said. "The amount of space I was in, [Kurt] Tippett was forced to follow me. So I kept going."
His clinical finish gave him the moral high ground as he kicked balls back out to the forwards at goal-kicking drill the next week. "It doesn't matter how much you practise," he kept telling them. "It's about kicking them on the big stage."
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The pillars of Lake's game are anticipation and marking. He said he read the play by three references: an awareness of the space around and behind him, the identity of the kicker and the pressure on the kicker. In his football brain, all is catalogued. "I knew Luke Power would always kick it short," he said. "You remember these things.
"My theory has always been to mark everything," he said. "I was always naturally strong, so I had that in my back pocket." In 2004, playing against Adelaide, he broke his right hand. "I couldn't close my fist," he said. "I don't know if it all started from there, but I couldn't punch for a good five or six weeks. The only way to spoil was to mark. I got suspended for two weeks anyway!"
Lake has always seen a kick in his direction not as a threat to be killed off, but an opportunity to be seized. At the Bulldogs, it might have meant a swift relay to Ryan Hargrave or Lindsay Gilbee and the start of a lightning rebound. Coach Rodney Eade encouraged him. "Things have changed a bit this year," he said. "Clarko doesn't like it as much. It can backfire."
Lake flourished under Eade, winning a best-and-fairest and two All-Australian guernseys. Confounding the popular perception of a prickly relationship, he speaks affectionately of Eade. "My career took off when 'Rocket' came to the club," he said. "I owe him a great deal. He encouraged me in my strengths. In meetings, it was never, 'You can't do this, you can't do that'."
They did have spectacular blow-ups. Lake remembered one at half-time in a match against Sydney. "I copped it three times in five minutes," he said. "He kept remembering things. All you can do is make eye contact, and not smile. I can take the flak. Some of the other guys couldn't. So he probably used me to get his message across a few times."
By the end of last year, the Lake/Bulldogs era was over. "They wanted to start again with a new back line," he said. "Starting a whole new position at my age wasn't going to be easy. I see myself as a defender. I couldn't see myself playing in the Bulldogs' forward line. Time was slipping away. I needed a change." And an otherwise replete Hawthorn needed a full-back.
He trained on the day of the press conference, and at least twice a week through his statutory holiday so he could get to know his new teammates. Buddy Franklin was quieter than he had expected, and Sam Mitchell messed constantly with balls – football and soccer.
"He reminds me of Daniel Cross, always with a ball in his hands," Lake said. "That's why they're so good in close.
"All the focus is on the football," he said of the Hawks. "What you can do to improve on game day, not in the weights room or on your runs."
Hawthorn's extra money helped, he found; fewer extracurricular duties were asked of the players, and more provided.
There was one other crucial difference: Waverley and the MCG were softer underfoot than his alma mater, Etihad. "I noticed this year when we played two games at Etihad, it definitely hurt a lot more and took a lot longer to recover," he said.
For grey-flecked Lake, this is now vital. When he began, he played at 104 kilograms and rarely budged from the defensive 50. "Brisbane days, early 2000s, kick it long to Lynch and Brown: you didn't have to run much," he said. "Now you have to push up. Being able to run and recover is vital." Consequently, he now plays at 98 kilograms. "Being lighter makes it easier on your joints," he said.
At 31, Lake sees the toll of contemporaries; newly delisted Alan Didak was an under-18 teammate in Adelaide. Five years ago, as the niggles mounted, he thought his body might call time on him, or that his passion would gutter out. Now, though, he feels rejuvenated. "This year's the best I've felt since '08," he said. "Now I can't see myself ever burning out."
He dispels the notion that he plays football, but does not live it. "I say that in jest, but I still watch every footy show, and I watch every game as well," he said. Now that his children are playing age, he is even more involved. "At the moment, I can't hide away from football." He envisages a footy job when he retires.
Over the years, Lake said, he has started many courses and finished none; peak study time always coincided with football finals and holidays. This year, Hawthorn manoeuvred for him and nine teammates to complete a diploma of management by July, leaving him free for football business now. Off the field as on, he said, "I feel I'm finally getting something finished".
Lake has been through two metamorphoses, from Harris to Lake, and from the Bulldogs to Hawthorn. That, he says, is change enough. The re-baptism still trips him sometimes, when signing a guernsey wrongly, or trying to remember his former signature for an old football card.
His ultimate club identity is more complex. He still lives in the outer west. He remembers how Barry Hall, a Sydney premiership captain, wanted to be known as a Bulldog. After consideration, Lake puts it this way: "I'd like to be remembered as a Bulldogs life member – and a Hawthorn premiership player."
Hawthorn coach Alastair Clarkson was not the only one surprised to see career full-back Brian Lake not just in the forward 50 at the start of the second half of the qualifying final against Sydney, but leading from the goal square and kicking a goal that began a rout.
Brendan Whitecross, startled by the sight of Lake running at him, looked around to make sure he was at the right end of the ground, then mouthed at Lake: "What's going on?" It is a recurring – indeed defining – question in Lake's maverick career.
His explanation is deceptively simple. The modern game demands that backmen push up. At worst, Lake would have given himself a chance to mark a high ball, at which he excels, but this time saw a clear path to the goal square. "You've got to tease your opponent a bit, see if he goes with you," he said. "The amount of space I was in, [Kurt] Tippett was forced to follow me. So I kept going."
His clinical finish gave him the moral high ground as he kicked balls back out to the forwards at goal-kicking drill the next week. "It doesn't matter how much you practise," he kept telling them. "It's about kicking them on the big stage."
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The pillars of Lake's game are anticipation and marking. He said he read the play by three references: an awareness of the space around and behind him, the identity of the kicker and the pressure on the kicker. In his football brain, all is catalogued. "I knew Luke Power would always kick it short," he said. "You remember these things.
"My theory has always been to mark everything," he said. "I was always naturally strong, so I had that in my back pocket." In 2004, playing against Adelaide, he broke his right hand. "I couldn't close my fist," he said. "I don't know if it all started from there, but I couldn't punch for a good five or six weeks. The only way to spoil was to mark. I got suspended for two weeks anyway!"
Lake has always seen a kick in his direction not as a threat to be killed off, but an opportunity to be seized. At the Bulldogs, it might have meant a swift relay to Ryan Hargrave or Lindsay Gilbee and the start of a lightning rebound. Coach Rodney Eade encouraged him. "Things have changed a bit this year," he said. "Clarko doesn't like it as much. It can backfire."
Lake flourished under Eade, winning a best-and-fairest and two All-Australian guernseys. Confounding the popular perception of a prickly relationship, he speaks affectionately of Eade. "My career took off when 'Rocket' came to the club," he said. "I owe him a great deal. He encouraged me in my strengths. In meetings, it was never, 'You can't do this, you can't do that'."
They did have spectacular blow-ups. Lake remembered one at half-time in a match against Sydney. "I copped it three times in five minutes," he said. "He kept remembering things. All you can do is make eye contact, and not smile. I can take the flak. Some of the other guys couldn't. So he probably used me to get his message across a few times."
By the end of last year, the Lake/Bulldogs era was over. "They wanted to start again with a new back line," he said. "Starting a whole new position at my age wasn't going to be easy. I see myself as a defender. I couldn't see myself playing in the Bulldogs' forward line. Time was slipping away. I needed a change." And an otherwise replete Hawthorn needed a full-back.
He trained on the day of the press conference, and at least twice a week through his statutory holiday so he could get to know his new teammates. Buddy Franklin was quieter than he had expected, and Sam Mitchell messed constantly with balls – football and soccer.
"He reminds me of Daniel Cross, always with a ball in his hands," Lake said. "That's why they're so good in close.
"All the focus is on the football," he said of the Hawks. "What you can do to improve on game day, not in the weights room or on your runs."
Hawthorn's extra money helped, he found; fewer extracurricular duties were asked of the players, and more provided.
There was one other crucial difference: Waverley and the MCG were softer underfoot than his alma mater, Etihad. "I noticed this year when we played two games at Etihad, it definitely hurt a lot more and took a lot longer to recover," he said.
For grey-flecked Lake, this is now vital. When he began, he played at 104 kilograms and rarely budged from the defensive 50. "Brisbane days, early 2000s, kick it long to Lynch and Brown: you didn't have to run much," he said. "Now you have to push up. Being able to run and recover is vital." Consequently, he now plays at 98 kilograms. "Being lighter makes it easier on your joints," he said.
At 31, Lake sees the toll of contemporaries; newly delisted Alan Didak was an under-18 teammate in Adelaide. Five years ago, as the niggles mounted, he thought his body might call time on him, or that his passion would gutter out. Now, though, he feels rejuvenated. "This year's the best I've felt since '08," he said. "Now I can't see myself ever burning out."
He dispels the notion that he plays football, but does not live it. "I say that in jest, but I still watch every footy show, and I watch every game as well," he said. Now that his children are playing age, he is even more involved. "At the moment, I can't hide away from football." He envisages a footy job when he retires.
Over the years, Lake said, he has started many courses and finished none; peak study time always coincided with football finals and holidays. This year, Hawthorn manoeuvred for him and nine teammates to complete a diploma of management by July, leaving him free for football business now. Off the field as on, he said, "I feel I'm finally getting something finished".
Lake has been through two metamorphoses, from Harris to Lake, and from the Bulldogs to Hawthorn. That, he says, is change enough. The re-baptism still trips him sometimes, when signing a guernsey wrongly, or trying to remember his former signature for an old football card.
His ultimate club identity is more complex. He still lives in the outer west. He remembers how Barry Hall, a Sydney premiership captain, wanted to be known as a Bulldog. After consideration, Lake puts it this way: "I'd like to be remembered as a Bulldogs life member – and a Hawthorn premiership player."
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