Even Hird’s fabled work ethic couldn’t save him when, in 1997, things went horribly wrong. A chronic footy injury marked the beginning of three years of hell. Hird had developed a stress fracture of the navicular bone in his foot, a rare injury, and it just wasn’t healing.

Operation after operation failed to rectify the problem. The murmurs started, suggesting that Hird’s career was as good as over. Graphic shots of Hird, distraught on the bench after another failed comeback early in 1999, seemed to sum up his bleak future. At that stage, Hird himself had begun to wonder if he could summons up the reserves needed for another comeback.

But Essendon had contracted a new fitness coach at the beginning of the 1999 season. His name was John Quinn and, together with the other medical staff at the club, he was charged with getting Hird back to full fitness. ""He was starting to believe the doubters – those who said he would never return. He was lost, confused and frustrated by it all,"" Quinn said. ""The first thing we did was put a plan in place and get him believing again. After that he became very focused. Even through the setbacks he would never ask, ‘Why me?’ he would just ask, ‘What do we try next?’. No one knows how hard he worked to get back. I would set him a program and continually have to revise it up – he just amazed me."" The pair worked together every day and, not surprisingly, has become very good friends.

In the three seasons leading up to 2000, Hird’s horror run of stress fractures, calf and hamstring injuries had restricted him to just 22 games of a possible 70. So season 2000 arrived and Hird was once more said to be fit. But would he be as good as before? More importantly, would he last the distance? Hird conceded later he had his own doubts. ""I said to myself that this year was going to be the last crack at getting back. If it hadn’t worked there was a pretty good chance I would have given it away.""

By the end of the 2000 season all the questions surrounding Hird had been answered emphatically. The Bombers lost just one game during the home and away season, and Hird was superb throughout – effective and inspirational in equal measure. He played 19 games and polled 16 Brownlow votes; if he had played every game he would have given the Medal a big shake. He still struggled with injuries – most notably a buttock problem and a finger complaint – but nothing short of a broken leg was going to keep him out of the finals action.

That was a comeback on a grand scale. Amazing enough that his body could withstand the hard running, the buffeting and battering. Astonishing, though, that he could set aside any self-doubts, and disable the self-protection mechanism in his brain. So it was that he hit packs harder, tackled more ferociously and contested more fiercely than ever before.

His resilience once again amazed the football world in 2002. An accidental collision with teammate Mark McVeigh during the club’s Round 6 match against Fremantle left him in hospital for several days with multiple facial fractures. The injury was likened to that of a car accident victim – some people talked about his season being over, others his career. Yet just eight weeks later he returned to football, collected almost 30 possessions and again underlined his champion qualities.

This explains the esteem in which he is held at Bomberland and why his men rally behind him as one. His leadership is outstanding. He won plaudits for taking a pay cut to help ease the Dons’ salary cap concerns, and as the public face of the club he was just as polished as he was inspirational out on the paddock. Paul Barnard, for one, was impressed. ""After everything he’s been through, to just come out and lead the team like that, and to play so well was completely awe-inspiring. You can’t help but be lifted by that.""

But triumphant personal comebacks were secondary in Hird’s list of priorities in 2000; only one result really mattered. With the team’s cruel finals misfortunes of 1996 and 1999 still fresh in the memory, Grand Final day 2000 arrived – and so did James Hird. This day was always going to be his, and you could almost see the heartache and frustration of the previous three seasons ebbing away in the tears of joy that flowed after that final siren. Hird was utterly magnificent. A champion rising to the biggest occasion, he demolished five opponents – Alistair Nicholson, Steven Febey, Brent Grgic, James McDonald and fellow Brownlow Medallist Shane Woewodin – in a consummate display of football ability. They might have well inscribed his name on the Norm Smith Medal at quarter time.

When Hird’s name was announced as the Norm Smith winner, the MCG engulfed in an astonishing upswell of applause – a sign that the football public knew full well what he had endured to reach this point. And when he accepted the Cup on the dais he punched the sky and roared so loudly, so whole-heartedly, it was almost ferocious.

""This is the best football moment of my life,"" Hird said immediately after the game. ""I couldn’t have asked for anything more.""

Later, he reflected on the tough journey he had undertaken. ""The last three years have been pretty ordinary. You can’t concentrate on footy, you can’t concentrate on life really because you’ve got a goal – to play games of football – and you don’t do it and then you get criticised for the way you are going about it, but you know you are working hard. Today it’s just all come together and I don’t think in my football career anything will top this, no matter what happens from now on.""

The mountain has been climbed. To many people, it won’t matter what Hird does for the rest of his career; his position in the pantheon of footballing greats was sealed this afternoon, and is assured forever. James Hird won’t see it that way, of course – but that’s just another thing that makes him one of modern football’s true champions.