It was the little things that delivered Collingwood this premiership. It was little moments, lots of little victories that all added up, that all took a toll on Brisbane, and that gradually wore the Lions down. It was a lunging fist here, and a risky and well executed kick there. It was the Magpies’ almost psychotic pressure in a narrow, four-point win that secured a record-equalling 16th flag.

It was a grand final that came down to about a dozen key moments, and it was Collingwood that managed those moments better in front of 100,000 at a sun-soaked MCG. All those little things culminated in an extraordinary father/son moment, with Peter Moore, the bionic footballer who played in four losing grand finals, handing the premiership cup to his son.

What a grand final this was. What a high standard, nerve shredding contest we were treated to. The first half, in particular, must rank as one of the best of the modern era. By halfway through the third, most players were completely dead on their feet. It was no cakewalk. It was a gruelling, attritional affair played in enervating conditions.

From the moment the new regime took the reins at Collingwood, the conditioning has been first rate. They’ve been a team that runs out games better than most. But it was rare for them to confront a day as hot as this. This wasn’t one of their mad winter cavalry charges. This was weather for building sandcastles. But it was the Lions who sagged. By the end, it was the Pies who were running on top of the ground.

There were lots of little victories, but there were plenty of big moments. There was Jordan De Goey’s clutch, long range goal on the quarter-time siren. There were two nerveless, long range, second-quarter goals from Jack Crisp, one when Brisbane was threatening to run away with things, and one after the half-time siren. There was Bobby Hills’s hanger. To be fair, every time the Norm Smith medallist went near the ball today was a big moment. He was born for this stage.

Speaking of which, De Goey didn’t have his best game, but he executed when it mattered most. He went to Bali over the summer, an island where he had considerable history, and embarked on a paint peeling training regime through the backstreets and rice fields. He finally had himself looking like a pro athlete. If ever that sort of training was going to bear fruit, it was on a day like today, and so it proved in the final term. When Steele Sidebottom nailed a set shot to give Collingwood a 10-point cushion half a minute later, the MCG quaked.

It was a grand final that was won with the same method and the same attributes that have served them so well in the Craig McRae era. They were a great rolling wave that started from deep in defence. They charged forward, and didn’t give Brisbane time to reset. It was a day for risky football.

For large chunks of the preliminary final, they were too tentative, too stodgy and too boring, according to the coach. It was so different on Saturday. They played on more, kicked down the line less. And they were nerveless. This Collingwood side is alligator blooded. They don’t blink. They don’t second guess. They eyed off the corridor time and time again, they went for it and they frequently pulled it off.

They really do put their fans through the ringer in these close games. There’s no one better in them. There’s no team more practised in them. “We train for this scenario,” McRae says nearly every week. And in the most important 120 seconds of their footballing lives, it came to the fore once again. They knew exactly what to do, where to stand, how to choke the play, and how to milk the clock. Nick Daicos and Scott Pendlebury in particular were pivotal at the death. It was a masterclass in how to keep your head when all around you are losing theirs.