Lachie Neale’s Lions dance on thin ice to set up classic AFL grand final clash with Swans | Jonathan Horn

Chris Fagan’s careworn face doesn’t always scream optimism, but he sold a message of hope at half-time of the preliminary final. We’re capable of winning from any position, he told them. We mowed down GWS last week. Compared to that, a 19-point deficit is a doddle. Besides, he reminded them, the mob in the other room have had some soft kills. Their 16-day break was the longest of any team since the introduction of the pre-finals bye. They’ve played once in 29 days. They’re ripe to be run down.

The Lions hadn’t been disgraced in the opening half. This wasn’t like the previous night’s game, which was always in Sydney’s court. But there were distress signals. Cam Rayner had mooched across the half forward line for just four touches. Oscar McInerney’s shoulder had been completely wrenched from its socket, and he appeared on the verge of passing out. Geelong’s flock of smalls were roaring through the centre of the MCG – linking up and overlapping. The Cats were cold and clinical. They had the game on their terms, and at their speed.

Ever since they tossed away the Collingwood game, and with it the double chance, Fagan has urged his Lions to throw caution to the wind, to back their talent, to have a greater appetite for risk. Earlier, they’d run through a banner that read: “We’re on thin ice – time to dance.” And in modern football, sometimes being three or four goals down is the best time to put your dancing shoes on.

After all, if there’s one thing this season has taught us, it’s that no lead is safe. For most of the year, the Lions had adhered to Ben Johnson’s credo – “when the gun go off, the race be over.” Even on elimination final night, they left Carlton in the gates. But in the subsequent fortnight, they’ve adopted a completely different racing pattern, and vastly different questions have been asked of them. In areas where they have traditionally shot themselves in the foot – resilience, endurance and accuracy – they have excelled, and it’s propelled them to a grand final.

Whatever happens next week, certain images and passages from the second half will live on for decades. There were the flashy moments – the hangers, the bullet passes, the remarkably crisp and lengthy possession chains. But the Lions got their hands dirty too. Many of Geelong’s bigger-bodied stars – Patrick Dangerfield, Mark Blicavs, Tom Stewart and Rhys Stanley – all limped to the three-quarter time huddle. They’d taken some shin shuddering tackles and in Dangerfield’s case, a knee to the kidneys. Josh Dunkley’s tackle that led to Cal Ah Chee’s early goal, Zac Bailey’s spoil on Ollie Dempsey, and Dayne Zorko’s lunging tackle on Tyson Stengle were all indications of a power shift.

One man dancing on ice in the second half was Lachie Neale. He went in under an injury cloud, but he was remarkably light on his feet, bobbing from left foot to right at stoppages, like a tennis player preparing to receive. As Geelong’s young midfielders started to drag their heels, Neale was the one who got his hands on the ball, who distributed and got them moving. He’s become a much better kick this year, and he opened Geelong up a number of times with his clever angle-changers. The Cats had cordoned off the corridor in the opening half, but now it was Brisbane’s, and they attacked through it at every opportunity.

As good as their Brownlow medallists and number one draft picks were, it was some of their more unheralded players who stood up. It was Ryan Lester’s blanket job on Jeremy Cameron. It was Brandon Starcevich, such an improved defender and so competent and composed running back with the flight of the ball. Even Eric Hipwood, a perennial puzzle and an easy whipping boy, imposed himself physically when it was most called for.

The Lions have never been great in the last few minutes of close games. They’ve often messed up their positioning, their messaging and their organisation. But they got it right when it mattered on Saturday. There are hundreds of little wins and losses in a game like that which are quickly forgotten. But a few were pivotal – Joe Daniher’s smother which led to Ah Chee’s goal, Will Ashcroft picking Mitch Duncan’s pocket in the middle of the ground and Jack Payne’s run-down tackle, also on Duncan.

In the Fagan era, so many big games slipped through their fingers – often through poor game management, often through tardy goalkicking, sometimes just through rotten luck. This time they dug in, held their nerve and treated us to one of the best finals wins of the modern era. The absence of McInerney will be sorely felt. But they are race fit and more than capable of matching Sydney in what looms as a classic grand final.