"The most gloriously unexpected triumph in the game's history"?

A touch understated perhaps, but we'll build gradually.

Seriously, there has never been a premiership like this. For starters it was achieved by the team of that separate part of Melbourne: the west. That sprawling, expanding territory, little-known and even less visited by the majority from east of the Maribyrnong. A part of town where "winning" hasn't been a byword. For too long, the local elite-level football team could be said to have reflected that.

That the Dogs got used to seeing themselves as something other than winners was even written into their club song: "Bulldogs fight and Bulldogs roar. Remember '54!" Could anything more effectively proclaim lack of success than singing of that one, long-ago good-old-day when it was actually achieved? The line was changed a few years back: an overdue move and also one to take out the bother of finding a rhyme with "16".

The Bulldogs have long been an enigma. In football's formative epoch, many of the powerhouse clubs emerged from suburban belts of the working class. This was true wherever competitions were formed. Think Collingwood, Port Adelaide, Fremantle, and others in various grades of competition. Hard and hungry men made good footballers and enough of them made formidable teams. So why not in Melbourne's west?

Footscray was a late starter in the VFL, but by the 1950s seemed to have caught the pack. Yet it appears to have been a club where mercurial individuals flourished, perhaps at the expense of team. Ted Whitten and Charlie Sutton were its greatest figures, but their leadership didn't produce more than patchy outcomes.

There was no shortage of talented players. In the 11 seasons from 1975 to 1985, six Brownlow Medals were won by men whose careers started at Footscray. Three had moved elsewhere by the time they won the medal, while the three who won the award as Bulldogs subsequently switched clubs. Such extraordinary leakage must say something of the club as it then was.

In the early years of football's nationalisation, administrators were not only unhelpful, they were downright hostile to the team of the west. They didn't believe the club belonged and they had a case. Late in the 1989 season, Footscray drew crowds of fewer than 15,000 to a couple of its home games. I retain an image of a day when they seemed to barely ring the fence. It was as though the people had given up.

Appearances, though, can be deceptive. When the AFL administration of Ross Oakley attempted to merge the Dogs with Fitzroy, modern football learnt a salutary lesson. People love their clubs with a passion, particularly when it's among the things in their lives they hold dearest. And the people aren't entirely without power.

Survival alone, though, was a short-lived triumph. While the rebranded Western Bulldogs battled through another quarter-of-a-century, they still didn't look like emulating the boys of '54.

The first presidency of Peter Gordon had brought defiance and some fleeting success. By 1996, though, Gordon conceded the club wasn't viable in the prevailing circumstances. David Smorgon took over, distanced the club from the Gordon era, and quickly set about achieving a more harmonious relationship with the AFL. There were five preliminary finals through the years that followed, but all were lost. Meanwhile, the AFL's attitude to Melbourne's less wealthy clubs took a 180-degree shift and the Bulldogs found a secure existence.

The eventual bridging of the divide between the two presidents says much for both men. Sixteen years after Smorgon had taken the reins, when his energy for the task had expired, he persuaded Gordon back. Perhaps this was the moment that symbolised the birth of the new Bulldogs. At last they were as one.

Not that things appeared harmonious as recently as two years ago. Brownlow medallist Adam Cooney requested a trade. The captain, Ryan Griffen, walked out. Tom Boyd was acquired from GWS, on outrageously big money, in what was seen as an attempt to save face. Gordon, who had returned to the presidency determined Brendan McCartney would be supported as coach through any rough times, now felt compelled to change course. The unheralded Luke Beveridge became coach.

To the delight of supporters, the club's first match in the 2015 pre-season competition was played at the Whitten Oval. Alas, it turned out to be anything but a day of celebration as Tom Liberatore sustained a season-ending knee injury. From the outside, it seemed the club was entering a new dark hour.

Then came the dawn and it has been stunning. Two seasons on, the Dogs have won that long-awaited second premiership. As well as the players, Beveridge and Gordon are rightly acknowledged as club heroes. There are many others too.

Foremost among them is the captain, for Bob Murphy's story will be told as long as football is played. His 2016 season ended with a knee injury in round three, in the dying seconds of his 295th game. He was 33 at the time, is now 34, and has been with the Dogs for 17 seasons. This was to have been the year to make up for all the lost ones.

How life can test good people in intricate and cruel ways. I have no doubt that in subjugating his personal sense of loss and injustice for the good of the team, Murphy has helped inspire this remarkable victory. The only way his pain will cease, though, is for the Dogs to do it again next year – with him on the ground.

First, though, there is that triumph – the most gloriously unexpected in the game's history – to celebrate.