IN THE 30 years since Carlton football manager Shane O'Sullivan began with the Blues, an era featuring much success and many premierships, but latterly plenty of embarrassment and schadenfreude, too, he has never heard a din quite like Sunday's at the MCG. "The noise, I reckon, was louder than any grand final day," he said. "On the bench, it was hard to hear. My left ear's still ringing.

"Someone said 77,000. To me, the noise was like 100,000. It was so hard to concentrate because it just went on and on and on."

Partly, the effect was acoustic. Partly, it was the earthly equivalent of heaven's reception for the one repentant sinner among 99 blameless. Mostly, it was the sound of the Blues coming again.

Outwardly, no one at Carlton was deluding themselves. The most important aspect of this win was that it was not another loss, after the humiliation of 14 in a row. None of the big-name players spoke publicly, for fear of investing the win with greater significance than its face value. The horizon stretched no further than Melbourne next week.

But the fact that this win was over ancient rival Collingwood in a fixture with almost sacred status marked it indelibly as a milestone in the remaking of a once supreme club.

"That was pretty sweet," agreed legend and board member Stephen Kernahan. "It doesn't get much better. Collingwood love giving it to us, and we put a halt to that today. Our blokes said, enough's enough."

It was a common sentiment. On the bench, O'Sullivan hugged head trainer Ray Spiteri, another long-server, and a property steward identified only as "Bulldog". "We've been through some tough times," O'Sullivan said. "It was pretty emotional."

Emotionally, the players are almost incidental. They come from all over, thrown together by fate at a club for which few would have felt affection before they were drafted, charged now with its resurrection.

Bare-chested in the rooms, they are baby-faced and anonymous, most less instantly identifiable than, for instance, 10-years-retired Kernahan. Necessarily, each is intent only on his own story: the next quarter, the next game, the next ice-bath. But gradually, their stories are becoming the next chapter of Carlton's history.

Shaun Grigg grew up in Ballarat, barracking for Essendon and tolerating his mother's love of the Blues. On Sunday, he played in his first win in a Carlton guernsey, one of six so blessed, and kicked his first goal, prompting an exuberant celebration. "It's nice to get one on the board," he said. "But it's just a stepping stone to where we want to get to.

"We had faith in Ratts (coach Brett Ratten) and his gameplan. We're slowly gelling together. Once we do, we don't know how far we can go."

O'Sullivan remembered all too well from whence they had come. "There's been a few dark days," he said. "You don't like seeing footy coaches sacked. They're tough days. The work that people like Denis Pagan put in … You feel for everyone who's been involved. It's been going on for too long, that's the thing. But days like this make up for a lot of bad stuff, that's for sure."

Rebuilding from ruins demands patience, an ever-thinning resource. "I think the players, and everyone, were getting sick of saying, 'We're getting there, we're getting there'," O'Sullivan said. "People can say what they like but until you win, you've done nothing."

The losses accumulated — some embarrassing, some honourable, some, shall we say, strategic — until Carlton was on the verge of a record losing streak.

"Until you win, you're not sure, and everyone's a bit nervous about whether we're on the right track," Kernahan said. "We were bitterly disappointed last week. We had a game for the taking and couldn't. You worry whether the belief's there or not. Today says it is."

Still, the fatalistic mindset had to be shed. The Blues played all over Collingwood on Sunday, but when the margin narrowed to 17 points midway through the last quarter, the apprehension was palpable. Brendan Fevola's seventh goal, and his handball to Grigg for another, made believers of all.

At the final siren, Grigg dared at last to look up into the stands. "It was fantastic for all the supporters," he said. "I was just happy to give them something."

What was most apparent in the rooms was that despite its recent travail, this was a club with a history onto which to fall back. Training staff swapped wisecracks about keeping a lid on it, as if recalling protocol from the good old days. It was not swagger, not yet, but it was the winner as grinner. Carlton never did learn to become a good loser.

"I'm a good winner," O'Sullivan said. "I'll listen to the radio today. I haven't listened to much over the last few years. You do get sick of jibes about the club."

O'Sullivan said Ratten had stressed this to the players. "This club's got a lot of great records," Ratten told them. "People have to remember how good we've been, and hopefully down the track will be again."