ST KILDA looked a different side last night. St Kilda was a different side last night. The difference was Nick Riewoldt.

The normal rules do not apply to the great ones, nor the laws of nature. Riewoldt had played no previous football this season, no practice games, not NAB Cup, not reserves. Typically, such an out-of-practice footballer takes time to work into the rugged rhythms of this exacting code.

Not Riewoldt. By quarter-time, he had taken five marks, kicked two goals and given the Saints a momentum the Bulldogs would never arrest. Riewoldt did not so much play centre half-forward as use the position as a reference point. From it, he roamed into defence as necessary, or to place himself strategically in the path of the Bulldogs' next likely kick.

Following Riewoldt's example, St Kilda turned its opponents' tactics back on themselves. The Saints clogged up the Bulldogs' defence, crowding out Brad Johnson and Luke Darcy. Upon winning the ball, they rushed it forward at breakneck speed to forwards isolated in space. Twice, it was a case of the ball coming in from one side of the ground, Riewoldt from the other. Where they intersected, the Saint twice marked spectacularly over Ryan Hargrave for two goals.

Others worked as hard as Riewoldt, but it was him that the crowd's eyes followed. Such a player makes all things possible again in the minds of fans. Except for sloppy finishing, especially from Justin Koschitzke and Xavier Clarke, St Kilda would have won this match by quarter-time.

Of course, Riewoldt is a super footballer, but not Superman. His game, though seemingly effortless, requires much lung-busting running. Watch how often he reaches to hitch up socks collapsing towards his ankles after yet another sprint. St Kilda gave him five minutes' respite midway through the first quarter, and again in the middle of the second, when his endeavour led him to cough up a little bile.

The bench is not such a bleak place in the modern game anyway: there, his hamstrings were massaged constantly, sometimes by two trainers at a time. There, also, he could contemplate the mayhem his Saints were causing. St Kilda muzzled the Bulldogs forwards so effectively that none other than Johnson kicked a goal until the 20-minute mark of the third quarter.

One of the Saints' cadre of captains, he was mindful of his duties, greeting first-gamer Clinton Jones with a pat of encouragement as he came to the bench; it was the blond lauding the blond. The second quarter was uninspiring, but Riewoldt made sure that the Saints' body language was vibrant as they retired for half-time. Properly, good football teams place great store by such details.

Predictably, Riewoldt ran less in the second half and spent more time on the bench. He jumped less often, and less high. Sometimes, he stood with his hands on his hips, in the attitude of a man feeling the pinch. Still, the Bulldogs took no liberties against him, knowing the likely price.

When Hargrave stepped out of the goal square when kicking in, leading to a bounce, the ball somehow squirted through the pack to Riewoldt on the goal line, and so he scored his third goal. There is a seeming effect about great players, that the ball follows them around. Of course, it is an illusion; it is just that they know where it is going before others do. It helps also that teammates look out for Riewoldt; why would they not?

The last quarter was desultory. Riewoldt kicked another goal, capitalising on Xavier Clarke's artful work, then went to the bench and stayed there. St Kilda's ascendancy had bought it the luxury of rostering rests for its best players. Riewoldt and his precious hamstrings were a priority. Though he looked anxious to return to the fray, he understood that this was one day in a long season.

For the final few minutes, he sat with Koschitzke on one side and the ageless Robert Harvey on the other in a kind of protection program. At the final siren, he was contained, for this match had long since been won. Television hijacked him, further flattening the moment. But Leigh Montagna's effusive hug seemed to say that the players no less than the fans rejoiced to have him back.