West Coast never really looked like taking down Gold Coast and all but ending the Suns’ season. Until, that is, they did.

Having spent the majority of the match nipping at the Suns’ heels without ever taking control, with their one lead across the second and third quarters swiftly reeled in within three minutes, a nine-point lead with a little over 12 minutes left in the final term felt, confusingly, about as safe as Gold Coast had been all match.

This is the story of the 12 minutes that followed. The crazy bravery of an Eagles team with nought but pride to play for, the steady rising crescendo of a crowd that went from daring to dream, to seeing, to believing at full voice that the win they’ve yearned for for eleven long weeks was at last upon them.

This is the story of an inspirational captain who strapped his side on his back and willed them over the line, of moments of exquisite skill almost unbefitting of a team with eight wins from its last 68 AFL games, of a backline constantly trying to mop up the messes of an uncompetitive outfit further afield holding firm when it was needed most, of an undersized ruckman gallantly punching above his weight for the umpteenth time.

It’s been a long while since we’ve been able to talk about the West Coast Eagles like this.

The surge home begins with the last of that list: at a boundary throw-in deep inside the Eagles’ forward 50, it’s Bailey Williams, not Jarrod Witts’ relief ruck Mac Andrew, who notices the ball will drop significantly shorter than either had anticipated.

Having rucked for virtually all day, Williams finds enough in his legs to charge at the Sherrin as it makes its descent, but fumbles the ball as it lands in his hands and watches it spill free towards Sun Charlie Ballard, almost on the goal line.

His handball at the nearby Brayden Fiorini is too hard, slipping through his hands and ricocheting into the forward pocket. It’s here where the first – but certainly not the last – of the Suns’ long, long line of errors in those last 12 and a half minutes occurs.

From the throw-in, Sam Clohesy, a rookie who has impressed tremendously in his debut year, has responsibility for the dangerous Liam Ryan, perhaps the Eagle most likely to snap through a goal from an unlikely spot.

Yet there is scant body contact, little close checking, and Clohesy makes a fatal mistake: as he sees the handball from Ballard to Fiorini, he breaks off from Ryan, running into the pocket trying to make himself an outlet option for the next link.

Fiorini’s fumble throws all those plans away: it’s now all hands on deck. And Clohesy is far too slow to realise that the ball is now in dispute, continuing to run into the pocket even as Zane Trew arrives to gather just centimetres from the boundary line.

You can pinpoint the exact moment Clohesy knows he’s in trouble: Trew wins the ball and dishes off a handpass to Ryan past the Sun’s failed attempt to cut the ball off. The target? Ryan, somehow in a good five metres of space and in the right pocket for a right-footer to have a snap.

For a player of Ryan’s skillset, this is like shelling peas. The Suns now lead by three points.

Moment one.

Fast forward, to a little over ten minutes on the clock now. The Suns are still up by two points, a Jake Waterman behind having shaved a third off their advantage. Bodhi Uwland has the ball in the back pocket, and he does what defenders are taught to do from the day they first hold a footy: he goes long up the line, and puts his faith in his talls.

It’s not a Suns tall who marks it. It’s Williams again, reading the ball in the air from 15 metres away, sprinting away from Witts, who chooses to stay out of the contest, and marking superbly in front of no less an aerialist than Jeremy McGovern.

Williams plays outsized every week, and gets beaten on the stats sheet in most of them. But you don’t keep rocking up against the game’s biggest, meanest hombres week after week when you’re 199cm tall and weigh 95 kilograms unless you’ve got a heart the size of Optus Stadium.

Bailey Williams has got one of those. It almost doesn’t matter that his kick down the line is intercepted by Nick Holman: the Eages have a wall behind the ball, and the Suns are going to hit it again and again in the next four minutes.

Moment two.

It’s McGovern’s turn next to pluck an intercept mark, reading the ball fractionally better than Andrew and besting him in a one-on-one by remaining in front and stretching his Inspector Gadget arms skyward. This is a man who wanted to play in Adam Simpson’s farewell game with a punctured lung and ribs so damaged he couldn’t fly, so had to drive for 36 hours across the Nullarbor to see his premiership coach off (from the stands, of course).

It’s Reuben Ginbey’s turn next: the anointed saviour of the Eagles’ midfield before Harley Reid took that title from him earlier this season, the first-round draft pick from 2022 has quietly gone up a gear under Jarrad Schofield, playing partly in midfield and partly as an extra big body at half-back. It’s the latter job he does here: when Matt Rowell wins the ball at a ball-up on the wing and lofts it forward, he reads it off the boot far quicker than Andrew, and gets to the drop so easily he’s able to take the chest mark. Another Suns forward foray that might have been the killer blow defused.

Moments three and four.

There is of course a Harley Reid moment in all of this. The Eagles’ wrecking ball and designated future champion has had, by all accounts, a dirty night. Six of the seven free kicks he’d concede for the match are already given away, while only the subbed-out Harry Edwards and subbed-in Sun Malcolm Rosas would finish with fewer kicks than his three.

But the greats still find a way to impact on their off games, and that’s precisely what Reid does with seven minutes and 15 seconds left on the clock: as Sam Flanders, the Suns’ best ball-user, grabs a loose footy 40 metres out from the Eagles’ goal, takes a few steps and prepares to launch it long and out of danger, the No.1 draft pick arrives on the scene as if shot by a cannon.

It’s not a tackle he lays, but a bump: right as Flanders drops the ball down to his boot to complete his kick, Reid clatters into him, knocking him back to force the ball free. So fierce is the collision that it knocks both men to the ground: it takes a good long while for Flanders to get back up.

Sam Flanders has been on the Suns’ list since late 2019. He has entrenched himself in their best 22 under Damien Hardwick, and with 63 games under his belt, is entrenched as an AFL footballer now.

And he’s just been violently crunched by a youngster three years his junior, often criticised for his inability to run out games even this soon in what should be a long career, and come out of it significantly worse off.

As with so many Reid acts this year, it’s symbolic: the Eagles, the team which has rolled over and died more than anyone else in the last three years, aren’t going to let themselves be bullied.

Moment five.

Add to the symbolism this next moment: when at last the Suns break down the Eagle wall and win another inside 50, a little over six minutes remains. And for a moment, it looks like it’s going to provide the game’s most crucial flashpoint.

Ginbey is unable to gather a loose ball at half-back, losing his footing thanks to a timely shove from Suns sub Malcolm Rosas. It lets Mac Andrew in to pick up the ball and dispose over the top to Lloyd Johnston, running into a seemingly open goal.

Except it’s not open: standing in his way as he races to the pocket is Oscar Allen, the Eagles co-captain and, along with Waterman, their spearhead.

Oscar Allen celebrates a goal. (Photo by Will Russell/AFL Photos via Getty Images)

It’s not a coincidence that he’s here, in Johnston’s path: far from being pushed behind the ball by Schofield, he has run through the centre square and into the backline to help out from much earlier on in the play, and so when Johnston gathers in the pocket and thinks about having a crack, the first thing he sees is Allen coming right for him.

Now corralled, Johnston gives to Rosas, who skirts the line, handballs inboard to the feet of David Swallow, and the Eagles arrive in force to pressure the kick and ensure a behind.

Without Allen there, having made the effort to get back at a time when his team desperately needed it, it’s all but a walk-in goal for Johnston, and having dominated the last ten minutes for a meagre scoreboard return, that would have been a tough blow to respond to.

Moment six.

Fast forward a minute, and the Suns are again on the charge. After a fumble, Rosas gathers at half-forward, looks inboard with players dashing inside the Suns’ 50, and tries to spot up Ben Long, free inside 50.

It’s a poor kick, certainly for a player with fresh legs having been activated in the final quarter. But with the 50 open all around him, Long still had a chance to recover and feed back to make the pass look okay if not for first-gamer Clay Hall, an Eagles son of a gun who started as the Eagles’ sub, reading the kick well, dashing up into the drop zone, and taking the relieving mark as Long watches the ball go over his head.

Moment seven.

Fast forward again: three minutes and 14 seconds remain, and there’s a ball-up deep inside the Eagles’ forward 50. The Suns still lead by two – it’s very much all hands on deck at this stoppage.

Which is where the biggest error of the night, if not the weekend, if not the month, occurs: co-captain Liam Duggan, normally at half-back, has pushed on-ball for the crucial moment.

The funny thing is, his first act at the stoppage is an unselfish one: with Ryan lurking, as the ball is thrown up, he makes a beeline for Ryan’s opponent Lachie Weller and frees his star teammate up.

That’s when Weller makes his howler: as the ball comes down and Witts taps it forward, the former Docker isn’t even looking at the ball, nor Duggan, who he’s standing right next to. He has eyes only for Ryan, now matched up on the outside against Noah Anderson.

It’s one of footy’s ultimate no-nos, and Weller pays a terrible price: Witts hit goes straight to Duggan, his direct opponent. The skipper’s snap puts West Coast in front.

Moment eight.

In front with three minutes and five seconds to go, the Eagles must now find a way to preserve it. Sure enough, the next ball-up is won by that man again, Duggan: abandoning all pretense, he grabs the footy and forces it forward, ball going from hand to foot quick as a flash to avoid an incoming Rowell smother.

From the spillage as the ball comes forward appears two moments of Eagle brilliance, and another Gold Coast howler.

The first genius act comes from Ryan Maric, a mid-season pick turned quasi-key forward turned wingman. As the ball bounces, eluding Fiorini, Maric charges in, eyes only for the football, leaps, plucks the ball out of mid-air, and just as he’s falling dishes a quick handball over the top to Jamie Cripps.

Now inside 50, Maric quickly realises his handpass won’t make it to his teammate, so he follows up, still getting to the ball ahead of Uwland, and quickly dishes to Cripps again.

Cripps handballs over the top again, to the charging-out Waterman, leading Charlie Ballard to the ball as he has all night. The star Eagle can’t quite fend the Sun’s tackle, but just as he’s being wrapped up, he notices opportunity.

Cripps, after giving the handball, has remained one pass away on the outside, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. And like Weller, his opponent, Uwland, has committed the cardinal sin: inside defensive 50, with their season on the line, he is ball-watching, paying no heed to the man he should be opposed to.

From the pocket, Cripps gathers, quickly balances himself, and with the outside of the right boot, checksides a miraculous goal to spark scenes of delirium in Optus Stadium.

It’s brilliant from the Eagles, and a nightmare piece of loose checking for Uwland. The Eagles now lead by 10 points, and a match that seemed on course for another West Coast loss now has them as likely victors.

Moments nine and ten.

From there, the heroes abound: Duggan with a merciless tackle on Anderson at the next centre bounce, refusing to let him break away; Elliot Yeo, wonderful all evening, winning the next clearance and thumping the Sherrin out of harm’s way; the last-gasp push from Alex Witherden on Ben King who, running into an open goal, was set to give the Suns life; Jack Darling, all 32 years of him and after three and three-quarter terms of neverending effort, taking possession on the wing, running as far as he possible can, and banging it long; McGovern losing his balance during a marking contest but still having the wherewithal to gather at ground level and shoot a handball to a teammate.

The Suns, meanwhile, can only curse once again shooting themselves in the foot on the road: having faced one of the AFL’s easiest draws in 2024, it’s hard to not look at Damien Hardwick’s first season as a major missed opportunity. Take care of the Eagles this week and North Melbourne a few back, both as heavy favourites, and not only are finals more likely than not, but even top four would have been within reach.

The Eagles are, meanwhile, building something special: maybe not for a while yet, but we’re already seeing a core of competent stars putting their bodies on the line time and again for the special thrill that only comes with winning a match.

The Suns are sunk. The Eagles are ascendant.