ONE of the AFL's canniest administrators once observed that the success of a football club was in "inverse proportion to the number of ex-players on the club's board".

This football department sage understood how the ability to mark and kick didn't often translate into the capacity to make the right decisions that would help a club win a premiership. Ex-champions are supposed to be on the board for their football expertise, but in truth, many have been drafted on to win elections and appease the members.

Hawthorn has only one former player on its board. He was a very good mark and could kick straight, too — he booted more than 1200 goals and played in four premierships.

But if the Hawks get up on Saturday, it'll be arguable that Jason Dunstall contributed as much to its 2008 premiership as any of the four he played in.

In the event that Hawthorn claims its highly planned 10th premiership, the story of the club's resurrection from near-extinction in 1996 will centre on a diverse cast of characters.

Don Scott is said to have "saved" the club from the merger with Melbourne by rallying a hitherto dormant supporter base. Ian Dicker was the person most instrumental in forging a strong financial base.

But Dicker was more literate in finances than football, and if the club flourished as a business, it did not excel on the field.

Internally, Dunstall is viewed as the most influential figure in shaping Hawthorn's team success.

Strangely, despite his high profile in the media, Dunstall's role as football tsar — which began in 2004, when he filled in as chief executive — has received scant attention.

Dunstall, who sits quietly on the match committee, is very much a power-without-glory man. He volunteers precious little of the inner workings of his club during his media commitments. He talks about the Hawks as though they're a separate entity — "they", not "we".

''Bunghole", as his old team mates called him, was the shotcaller in the two key decisions that have shaped the team. The first, obviously, was the appointment of Alastair Clarkson.

Clarkson was a contentious appointment. The Hawks were slow to pursue Rodney Eade, who chose a bird in the hand at Whitten Oval, and were beaten to the punch by Richmond in their bid for Terry Wallace.

Dermott Brereton wanted his friend Gary Ayres, but, at Dunstall's insistence, Clarkson won the tender to rebuild the Hawthorn list. In hindsight, it's evident that the Hawks had a better base of players than it appeared to own in 2004, and Peter Schwab presided over some clever list management — principally, trading Trent Croad for Luke Hodge, then getting Croad back cheaply, a la Kerry Packer buying Channel Nine from Alan Bond.

Whereas ex-players are apt to show loyalty to their own, Dunstall's greatest asset is his near-total lack of sentiment. Others would call it the absence of empathy. He sacked the universally loved Schwab, overlooked or dawdled in pursuing teammates and opted for Clarkson.

Dunstall also pushed for Hawthorn's "year zero" list-management strategy, which is arguably the most important philosophical decision the club made. The Hawks were willing to get rid of anyone over the age of 26 who had currency and duly traded Nathan Thompson, Jonathan Hay and Peter Everitt. They bottomed out and did not judge Clarkson on the dismal win-loss ratio in 2005 and 2006.

One senses that Jeff Kennett wasn't entirely sold on Clarkson in the early days. Dunstall has been important, thus, in persuading Kennett and the board to be patient in judging the progress of both team and coach.

If the success of a club, as the sage official believed, rests upon keeping past players from messing it up, it follows that a club still needs at least one board member who knows what they now call the "core business".

Hawthorn has only one. He was enough.