In 2016, the Western Bulldogs made an improbable run to the AFL Grand Final. The seventh-place team would beat the minor premiers, the Sydney Swans, and end a six-decade drought. But their longest serving player, the erstwhile captain and heart-and-soul of the team, Bob Murphy, would not take the field. In the third round, a ruptured anterior cruciate ligament had ended the 17-year veteran’s season.

After their triumph, Murphy watched his teammates walk up to the dais, one by one, to receive their premiership medal. He felt elation, and pride, at his team’s success. But there was an undeniable separation between him and them. As he wrote in his memoir, Leather Soul:

“The Dogs sat atop the football mountain as famous victors and I was part of that, but the 22 players on the field had just become football immortals. There was a clear line between the 22 who played and the rest of us. That’s just how it is in our game.”

The secret to the Bulldogs’ success was “team over individual” — and no one embodied that ethos more than Bob Murphy. He tried to console himself that it couldn’t be any different after their Grand Final victory.

But then the Bulldogs’ coach, Luke Beveridge, said into the microphone, “I’d like to call Bob Murphy to the stand …”

What did this experience teach Murphy about the emotional cords that bind teams together, about the importance of shared stories, about the centrality of connection?