THE WHARFIEWOBBLES.

You had to see it to believe it.

Pat Voss was prancing, Hells Bells was ringing out, Fremantle was home.

And then it wasn't.

The to-ing and fro-ing over Wharfie Time at the Grand Final had been going on for well over a month. It had all led to the moment Voss slammed the Dockers into what would ordinarily be an unassailable 17-point lead. Only 258 seconds remained in the Grand Final. If ever there was a time to hit the button, now was it.

The MCG hummed in anticipation. And then it happened. Ding. Ding. Ding.

It sparked a frenzy. Fremantle fans had outnumbered the Brisbane brethren right throughout the week and did so again at the MCG. Indeed, those clad in purple danced in the stands. They could almost reach out and touch the premiership cup that has evaded this football club across three agonising decades.

Wharfie Time should have been their moment. It wasn't.

It was Brisbane coaching legend Leigh Matthews who coined the theory that minutes equals goals. As long as there are as many minutes on the clock as goals that needed to be kicked, then you're still in the game.

But with four minutes to go at the MCG, not even 'Lethal' would've been thinking his Lions could do this. Not even he could've dreamed that in a few short moments, he'd be out on the ground embracing a newly minted three-time premiership coach in Chris Fagan. But there he was.

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It was Fagan who had played AC/DC's Hells Bells in Brisbane team meetings throughout the week, preparing his own players for the surge of Freo momentum that would inevitably follow the sound of Wharfie Time. His players knew there was every chance this moment would come, and they looked more ready for it.

At the very next centre bounce, even though the time was ticking away on Brisbane's season, there was Josh Dunkley smiling and waving his arms. It was he and his teammates who looked energised by Wharfie Time, not the Dockers.

"We spoke about Wharfie Time yesterday," Dunkley told AFL.com.au afterwards.

"'Fages' brought it up in the team meeting. He asked us the question, 'What are we going to do when this comes on?' Then he hit play. He played it over the speakers and we spoke about using it as our energy. Like, it's a cool song. It's a cool moment.

"If you go back and watch it, you'll see a lot of us saying, 'Here we go … let's go'. It really got us going. When it came on, if you watch the vision, I'm standing at the centre bounce and looking around and waving my arms. I was thinking, 'Let's go!' And then, sure enough, bang."

On any other day, Wharfie Time could have been played earlier. Some in the crowd screamed for it after Michael Frederick had delivered a cool finish just a few minutes earlier to put Fremantle nine points up. It could have come when Josh Treacy eased into an open goal moments later, only to be knocked off course by Ryan Lester.

Perhaps that was the moment Dockers supporters might have felt reason to panic. Treacy's barely believable miss, virtually from the goal line, caused a flutter of the heart. But then Voss scored, Wharfie Time sounded, and all was right again. Right? No. Because this wasn't any other day, and Brisbane wasn't any other side.

Bang. Charlie Cameron.

With the crowd still on its feet, the Lions won the clearance. Will Ashcroft hacked a kick to Cameron, who gathered, spun and sent through a trademark snap. Suddenly, a strange phenomenon grasped the MCG. This was the most eclectic soundtrack anyone could imagine. AC/DC into … John Denver?

Within an instant, Wharfie Time was drowned out by Country Roads. For as much commentary as the former has been given across this September, Cameron's goal song has just as much sway in Brisbane's fortunes and just as much influence in altering momentum. As it proved on Saturday.

An immediate response, a bounce-back Brisbane goal, and a singsong in the Lions cheer squad? This wasn't in the Wharfie Time script. The first sense of dread had arrived and it had followed what should have been one of the most joyous moments in Fremantle history.

Bang. Zac Bailey.

And then it all became very real. For as much as the Cameron goal dampened the Docker moment, surely it couldn't spoil the grand prize? After all, there were just a tick over three minutes left and Fremantle still held an 11-point lead. But then, another Lions clearance, another Ashcroft clearance. Uh oh.

Wharfie Time was now turning into Washie Time. Ashcroft, already a two-time Norm Smith Medal winner, was looking to go three from three. And, let's be honest, he probably should have. Brisbane had mustered only five centre clearances for the game when the bells started chiming. Ashcroft had four in four minutes afterwards.

Bailey then toughed it out. Just weeks after signing the eight-year extension that had dominated headlines all year, he crashed into Caleb Serong, somehow found the time and space to get boot to ball, and watched his miraculous shot sail over the goal umpire's hat following Ashcroft's latest midfield masterpiece.

AC/DC into John Denver into … DJ Otzi? What was going on?

As the famous lines of Hey Baby rang out, Bailey's goal song was followed by the equally as famous call-and-response from the crowd – 'ooh, ahh' – and all of a sudden the Grand Final was heaving again. Wharfie Time wasn't just interrupted. It was now turning into a full-on purple nightmare.

Bang. Logan Morris.

Alex Pearce was doing such a great job on the young Brisbane stud. He'd kept him to just four disposals, and no scores, deep into the third term when he chased a loose ball and his Achilles gave way. Suddenly, now, Morris was freed up and playing on a journeyman in Oscar McDonald.

As the ball crashed inside Brisbane's forward 50 once again, the result of another Ashcroft clearance, Morris held McDonald at arm's length and marked strongly. He went back, composure personified, and emphatically drilled the set shot. Within just three minutes of Wharfie Time, the Lions were in front.

Bang. Morris. Again.

And now it was party time. Ashcroft would, of course, go four from four in the resulting centre clearances. He would scoot to the next contest as well, zipping out of it resoundingly and taking four bounces. He would handball to Morris, who would steady and ice the game. It would be Brisbane's flag.

Perhaps the most incredible 258 seconds in Grand Final history had ended with Brisbane-coloured confetti spraying across the MCG, with its players celebrating the most remarkable of threepeats, and with Fremantle forlorn. This wasn't how the button being pressed was meant to be followed.

Instead, the bell had rung on Fremantle's season.

Wharfie Time had fallen flat. The Wharfiewobbles had taken hold.