AFTER kicking four last-quarter goals, and eight in total, to lead Carlton to rousing victory over Collingwood at the MCG yesterday, Brendan Fevola turned to Collingwood cheerleader Jeff "Joffa" Corfe and mouthed this question: "Where's your jacket now, Joffa?"

We know this not from witnesses, nor from an interview with Fevola — he doesn't stoop — but because he proudly and loudly boasted about it while warming down in the change rooms.

Fevola was, as the Blues were, exultant. Two wins over the Magpies in eight weeks, 15 goals for Fevola in those games; these surely were records in terms of making short work of their old foes, and the room was abuzz.

Match committee chairman Stephen Kernahan made a short speech, recognising Heath Scotland's 150th game, but also noting that the Blues were back in the eight for the first time in six years, and that the feeling was even better because it was Collingwood that was vanquished. Old favourites reappeared, as if suddenly brought back to life. "Gunna have a drink tonight," wheezed former president John Elliott.

Fevola was not so much made for this moment as cast for it, a new hero/villain for football's most enduring pantomime. He is a genius, but flawed, charismatic and an agent provocateur, a piece of work, incident-prone, but (counting Kernahan as a centre half-forward) Carlton's best full-forward since Alex Jesaulenko.

For yesterday's show, he appeared for the first time with his new coiffure, missing the curls on his forehead, but was still in turns very good and horrid. In the first quarter, he could have won the game off his own boot. In the last, he did. Asked to assess his game, Carlton coach Brett Ratten said: "Nine out of 10." The docked mark was probably for the chances he squandered, but could have been for pouting.

Fevola kicked the first two goals of the match, and might have had the first four but for wrongly calibrated range. Nathan Brown had already been replaced by Harry O'Brien; they would swap unavailingly on him all day. "One's a first-year player, one's half his weight," said Collingwood coach Mick Malthouse later. But he said both would learn. "I'm not a great believer in protection," he said.

At quarter-time, Carlton was 2.7, Fevola 2.4. Two kicks at the start of the second quarter, one from a mark, the other from a free kick against Brown for allowing his forearm to be held by Fevola, produced only another behind.

Thereafter, Fevola hibernated for nearly two quarters, appearing only in one of many scuffles that characterised the game. Partly, this was because of the game's shape. Collingwood, besieged early, was now the besieger, and from far away at full-forward, there was not much Fevola could do about it. When Chris Judd once failed to deliver to him, lace-out, autographed and pre-wiped, he gestured his annoyance.

As the tide turned, Fevola kicked the last goals of the third quarter to tie the scores. Those were the preliminaries. Early in the last quarter, Brown appeared to have wrestled Fevola to a standstill in the goal square, only for Fevola, lying on his back, to grab the ball and kick a goal anyway, to give the Blues the lead. It was an inspired act. Another followed, this from the gift of Judd.

A Collingwood goal was disallowed. Moments later, O'Brien seemed to have Fevola's measure, only for him to reach up and out as if from the grave, strip O'Brien and snap his seventh. Here was the greatness of Fevola, as not only the best one-grab mark in game, and one of the most thumping kicks, but able to create from nothing in a way that distinguishes true full-forwards from mere attackers.

Ratten would add to that appreciation by saying that he was growing, week-by-week, as a team player, thinking, for instance, to shield a pack so that Simon Wiggins could mark at a vital moment. "He's really matured as a player," Ratten said.

The Blues would not be denied now, nor Fevola. A mark on the siren and a goal after it made eight — 8.6 — and ensured that no one would steal his show.

Emerging from triumphal maul, Fevola retrieved the match ball, not because he needed another statistic, but to give to Scotland. All the while, he bellowed, pranced and high-fived fans, then linked with Nick Stevens to form an armchair for Scotland. In such moments, Fevola looks nothing more than a boy playing a game and wallowing in a win, which at heart is what he is.

After its first win over Collingwood, Carlton was restrained, since it meant only that a run of 14 defeats at last was broken. Last night, the Blues were more like their old, triumphal, selves. It had been a momentous eight weeks. Fevola sat on the floor, chattering with Cameron Cloke, massaging a blister on his right heel and cuddling his daughters. Momentarily, he popped a dummy into his mouth, then took it out, not by spitting it, but as if to say it was no longer needed.