THE pressure was meant to get to Geelong. But when the ice came on at the MCG last night, and 98,000 fans sucked in breath and moved to the edge of their seats, it was the Cats who were too good, too clinical, too classy.

Now they are just one victory away from an AFL premiership. A brave, spirited Collingwood is left to ponder for a few months at the end of a season in which the Magpies overachieved.

It was a memorable final at the colosseum, played in brilliant conditions and in a wonderful atmosphere. For once, the match was equal to the occasion.

Collingwood scrapped and clawed and fought doggedly all night, to the point where the Magpies threatened to pinch the game after Alan Didak's goal midway through the final quarter.

What happened next could be a metaphor for Geelong's year. There was a boundary throw-in at half-forward, under the new grandstand, and Brad Ottens palmed it down. Gary Ablett ran on to the ball, bounced around a tackler and belted through a goal from 40 metres.

Ablett was celebrating with mouth agape long before the goal umpire had arched his back to signal the six-pointer. He has been magnificent all year and ditto for his team.

It was enough, but only just. There were 10 goalless minutes after that, then Tom Harley's late hit on Anthony Rocca was adjudicated as being excessive. Rocca was too sore to take the kick, but Paul Medhurst sneaked it through so that five points separated the teams.

At 32 minutes, the siren beat Collingwood's final thrust.

The day had begun with Collingwood chipping away through the agency of coach Mick Malthouse, who used his newspaper column to suggest that his opposite number Mark Thompson had dithered over his future (Thompson is out of contract and has put off any talks until the end of the season).

Collingwood president Eddie McGuire went on radio to say, with tongue implanted in cheek, that Collingwood was "making up the numbers"; that the Magpies would enjoy paying tribute to this All-Australian-studded Geelong unit in the evening.

The football world knew precisely what Malthouse and McGuire were thinking. Geelong has stumbled in the past when it has reached the threshold. Perhaps it could happen again.

Geelong ran on to the MCG as though collectively electrified by the highly charged atmosphere. Captain Tom Harley led it out, jumping high to catch imaginary Sherrins. Cam Mooney ran around, rather than through the giant banner, as is his wont — a little football superstition.

But it was Collingwood, the working-class club with the working-class team, which showed out early through Heath Shaw's ability to find the ball. Scott Burns, the ultimate blue-collar man, stole the football from a scrimmage and snapped the first goal of the match, venturing a little fist pump, which, by the standards of the undemonstrative Burns, was like a cartwheel.

Then Geelong rallied. Safe to say that in its planning, Collingwood may not have anticipated what happened in the first quarter. Mathew Stokes, the jockey-sized Northern Territorian, a player whom nobody wanted for three years while he whiled away in the South Australian league, kicked three goals.

Poor Tyson Goldsack, his opponent, suffered the pain and indignity of having his teammate Shane Wakelin drive a knee into his head in a marking contest, and while he lay there prone, Stokes sneaked out the back to kick his first. Perhaps with his head still pounding, Goldsack conceded a second goal soon afterwards and then Joel Selwood's delightful short pass found Stokes for another goal.

Geelong was almost two goals in front at quarter-time and there was a sense that the Cats might blow the game open. The theory that Collingwood, outgunned as it appeared to be, might close the game down and look for a low-scoring slog. In fact, the Magpies went man-on-man without any hard tags. Not even Gary Ablett, the Brownlow Medal favourite, would find himself dealing with anything other than a black and white man running at his side, initially Martin Clarke, then Tarkyn Lockyer.

But Collingwood is the Sydney of 2005 and 2006, the team that will not wilt. Irishman Clarke was shifted on to the dangerous Stokes in the second quarter and found himself left free as Collingwood launched attacks from the back half. Clarke, who two years ago was leading his Gaelic club to an All-Ireland championship, was brilliant.

The unpredictable Didak had been subdued, but he is never held down for a full game. Sprinting to the fall of the ball in the goal square late in the second and manned by Selwood, he conjured an overhead goal with his non-preferred right boot without so much as taking control of the Sherrin. The Pies closed to within a goal at the long break.

In the third term, it seemed for a moment or two that Collingwood could do the near-impossible. Geelong became slipshod, with Ottens and James Kelly missing goals that they should have converted, and then the big, gangling Mark Blake and Selwood collided as they tried to retrieve a high ball.

Collingwood's veteran skipper Nathan Buckley turned back the clock, moving into the middle of the ground and mopping up here and there. When Medhurst kicked truly from 40 metres at the 17-minute mark, Collingwood had the lead.

Steve Johnson's intervention characterised the last quarter. In the maelstrom, Johnson has the pure talent to find space and time. First, he hit up Mooney with a pass for a goal, then he marked just beyond the goal square for another. Geelong sneaked to a 17-point lead and then hung on grimly.

This time, there would be no choke.