Western Bulldogs currently sit 10th on the AFL ladder. That has been their lot for most of the year – teasing, tinkering, looming, ambushing, retreating, knocking on the door. Just when you think they’re out, they drag you back in. Their win over Carlton was full of merit. It was the win of a team capable of doing serious damage in September. And it was a typical Luke Beveridge win – a stake in the ground win.

If they’d lost, all the usual suspects would have been climbing out of trees to intensify pressure on the coach. They’d say he’s too weird, too stubborn, too off-message and that he’s stayed too long. They’d talk about the abundance of talent on his list. They’d talk about his bewildering selections. They’d do what they’ve been itching to do for years, and call for his head.

With Beveridge, the word “they” is loaded. The whole “us and them” thing fuels him. There’s a loud but influential cohort who despise him, and the feeling is very much mutual. They resent the way he doesn’t give interviews on demand. They resent the clear contempt he has for them. They resent a coach who doesn’t play their game. They resent what they see as a coach who fluked a premiership.

Most at the club say Beveridge was stretched too far last year, that he tried to do too much, that he tried to be all things to all facets of the club. They changed their structures around him – “a clear demarcation of reporting lines”, the president called it. While it was all going on, Bevo went four-wheel driving. He and the club were refreshed and optimistic about the year ahead.

For the fans, it has been a fairly typical year. In the early months, Bevo experimented, tested the waters, made decisions only he could justify, and sent his supporters spare. There have been days where the Dogs have barely looked present. But there have been some magnificent performances too, and some genuine grounds for optimism.

Since that magical 2016 day, Dogs fans, often through gritted teeth, have backed the man who gave them the greatest moment of their sporting life. They’ve given him so much rope. They’ve forgiven him a lot – the feuds, the Tom Morris incident, the magnet manoeuvring, the years of drift. That’s just Bevo. That’s the payoff. It’s not a normal football supporting experience when this man is in charge.

At footy clubs these days, half your job is managing expectations. It’s getting the messaging right. It’s managing the supporter base, the media, and in the Bulldogs’ case, it’s managing Bevo. It’s striking that balance between hope and being realistic. The messaging from the top brass has been at odds with what the coach is doing, and often saying. Beveridge is an optimist. “The world is our oyster,” he said a few weeks ago. A few days later, they went out and played like busted arses against Port Adelaide.

The next fortnight will tell us how genuine this team is. Are they indoor specialists? Or can they knock off Geelong, a club that has caused them all manner of frustration in the Beveridge era? And are they the team, in a deep field where the contenders keep losing ground and finding trouble, best placed to launch a sustained run?

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