“They have to score a goal”, said a young guy behind me, referring to the heroes of the ACL, “just to prove that they’re men again”.

Now I don’t want to over-inflate anyone’s ego, but if this is the accepted measure of masculinity, surely the Mariners' current form makes Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman look like teddybears.

Who needs to watch Quantum of Solace when you can witness the strikeforce that is currently at the Mariners' disposal? Big Macca and Matty blasting down the pitch causing havoc to defenders and Sash hassling the keeper like that witty guy in the bar with the secret weapon in his shoe. To watch Mrjda coming off the bench as well is akin to that unexpected special effect that makes you spill popcorn all over yourself. Then there’s Caceres: a hole-in-one at St Andrews and next he saves the world.

But that’s just the trailer...to see the full, glittering, testosterone-fuelled glory you needed to be there, needed to share the fifteen minutes of nausea I felt before the first goal. And then to feel the absolute satisfaction as the whole night followed the script. The sky was black, the pitch looked tatty and the crowd size was disappointing, but I had the uncanny feeling that I could be watching “the best Mariners squad ever”.

OK, it’s a big call, and no disrespect to all the Mariners we have loved and lost, but everything seems to have come together for the team in the past few weeks. At half time, there were life-size cardboard Mariners lining up on the pitch, but there is certainly nothing two-dimensional about the squad that Lawrie currently has at his disposal. A remarkable lack of injuries (even Heff is said to be coming back at last – joy!), four in-form strikers who also do a lot of defensive work, and so many players who are blossoming under Lawrie’s guiding hand. The Mariners are playing attacking football and M’s ingenious tactics are proving to be lethal.

Caceres, for one, has been on fire since Lawrie unleashed his potential, Bojic is continually impressive and the Jedi always seems to be in the right place at the right time. And once again, Brad Porter: cool as ice, cutting the yellow wire as the timer ticks down. The Mariners' deadly set pieces so often depend on his precision and focus.

And did I mention the backline? Kept their shape under the unfailing leadership of the ever reliable Wilko, who received possibly the most baffling booking of the season in the 92nd minute. Like the rest of us in yellow, he looked unconcerned. He could already see Friday night looming and not even the evening Breeze could ruffle his confidence.

It’s one thing to come from 3-0 down, it’s quite a different matter to be able to confront expectations of winning and meet them without flinching. They needed a win and got one, decisively. Sure, Adelaide had been through an exhausting schedule, but they certainly didn’t lie down and die. (Except for the Og who spent about half an hour getting stitched up. Home viewers saw it all on Fox’s ‘dressing room cam’. And you thought the undie shots were a bit tasteless!)

The only less positive note to the evening was the lack of spectators, the lowest of the season. Rain, hail or shine, I spend about two hours travelling to see the Mariners on match days. I’m not saying that makes me a better fan, but it baffles me why some people who live minutes from Bluetongue would rather watch a dvd or party on with their mates than follow such an exciting sporting contest. You could almost call it un-Australian. In the words of Leyton Hewitt (who was at the match on Saturday): “C’mon !!”

Julia won’t be going to the opening night of Baz Lurhman’s epic “Australia” next week owing to the more riveting epic showing at Telstra Dome. Hold on to your popcorn.