To set the scene, it's 3.16am on Sunday. I've got my foot in a bucket of ice at the kitchen table and after trying all my tricks for trying to get to sleep (eat, meditate, stretch, read a book, repeat) I've decided to put the post-match buzz to good use and get some words down. These night games are a killer!

Like most people, I've always been one to silently groan when a player or coach rolls out the "good to get the four points" cliche. But after riding the sometimes nauseating merry-go-round that has been the build-up to this inaugural AFLW season, putting in as much work as we did on the track over our preseason, copping a disappointing first-up loss against Brisbane and needing a win to keep our season alive in this cut-throat AFLW format, it genuinely is good to get the four points.

The game was a tale of two halves. We started poorly – reactive and uncertain. Collingwood were energised and took advantage of our hesitation and we found ourselves 19 points down at the main break. Not an ideal scenario for a team who to that point had only kicked two goals in our six-quarter history of AFL football. Somehow though, we managed to turn it around.

So how did we do it? What changed? Sometimes these dramatic shifts in ascendancy can be attributed to weather conditions such as a strong wind or other obvious variables like injuries, but quite often it's not that simple. So the answer is: nothing major. In terms of our theory or plan, at least. It was a shift in our mindset, if anything, and with that a swing in momentum. I believe momentum in sport is an immeasurable but undeniable thing.

We see it all the time; Roger Federer v Rafael Nadal in this year's Australian Open final, which I'll come back to, and Super Bowl LI are just two examples. Atlanta's offence looked unstoppable and thrust the Falcons to a 21-0 lead at half-time. But then, inexplicably, the Patriots managed to turn the tables completely in the second half and won 34-28 in overtime to complete a record-breaking comeback. You could argue that the Patriots having a guy called Tom Brady as quarterback is a reasonable explanation as to why, only he was there in the first half, too. What changed?

These examples and our game last Saturday night have made me realise that despite all the time we spend scouring the theory of football and devising plans, quite often in sport outcomes are determined by the art of navigating these ebbs and flows of momentum.

What I have noticed is that as much as it is about how a team capitalises when momentum is in their favour, it is one's ability to limit the damage when everything seems to be going against them that often determines the outcome. The capacity to hunker down and minimise the bleeding until momentum inevitably swings is an underrated skill. I suppose it's a form of resilience.

Now back to the Australian Open men's final, where there was a great example of this. Nadal was on a rampage having just taken the second set comfortably and was threatening to break Federer in the opening game of the third. Federer scrambled to save three break points and, albeit unconvincingly, managed to hold his opening service game. By Federer's lofty standards, the game was far from impressive. We expected him to win his service game. He hung in there, but watching live it seemed he was just delaying the inevitable and that it would only be a matter of time before his bigger-hitting opponent would push past him. 

Collingwood had all the momentum in the first half of our game and looked the superior team, but I liken our second quarter to Federer's opening game of the third set. It was full of these haemorrhage-stopping moments. A desperate smother that prevented them getting over the back when our defence was caught out of position. A secondary stoppage when we couldn't get hold of their ruck and could only dream of actually winning a clearance ourselves. A brave attempt to tackle that didn't earn us a free kick but bought us enough time to get numbers back in defence and prevent what would have been another certain goal. They were the reason we were three goals down at half-time, instead of four or five.

The eventual scoreline suggests it wouldn't have changed the result. We kicked six goals to none in the second half, so had we been down by five goals we still would have won by a kick. But psychologically five goals might have seemed insurmountable and things may have played out very differently.

It is easy to overlook these moments as they happen. In isolation they are far from remarkable. They merely get you out of jail. As a player, coach or spectator you can wish your defence wasn't out of position in the first place, that you were winning more clearances and weren't three goals down. It is so easy to become frustrated by the opposition's momentum. Therein lies the art of navigating not only the ebbs and flows of sport, but the undulations of life. It is being able to deny the frustration, hanging in there when nothing seems to be going well. Not only does it limit the bleeding, quite often it is one of those unremarkable, inconspicuous actions that eventually forces the momentum to shift.

After weathering Nadal's storm in the opening game, Federer won the third set 6-1 and claimed the championship in a five-setter for the ages. On the back of an ugly second quarter scrap we kicked six unanswered goals to claim our first win and ignite our season.

It is a reminder of the lesson Arthur Ashe taught us some years ago. "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can."