“You come at the king, you best not miss.” You ring your bell and you hoist your flag, you better make sure the game’s in the bag. You run into an open goal and you have a shot from centimetres out, you better make sure you kick it. It’s tempting here to focus on Fremantle, and to ask how the hell they let that premiership slip. It’s a question that will haunt everyone associated with the club until they finally jag one. But the story of this grand final was the magnificence of the Lions – the way they didn’t panic, didn’t deviate, didn’t break. Don’t get sucked into any narrative that Fremantle pissed this premiership away. Brisbane won it on their merits.
It will be remembered as the most extraordinary of Brisbane’s six premierships. But in the immediate aftermath, the mood in the MCG was one of shellshock, even among the winning supporters. It was a similar feeling to that which enveloped the ground following the drawn grand final in 2010. How the hell had they done it? What the hell just happened?
