Shearing time: Bulldogs legend Terry Lamb, left, gives Josh Reynolds a trim with the help of local supporters and barbers, Steve and Tonia Balafas. Credit:Quentin Jones And here, in the middle of Belmore in Sydney's gloriously diverse and ever-changing south west, the only people you will find are Bulldogs people. These people are barber Steve Balafas, who has been cutting Steve Mortimer's hair for 35 years. They are Amal Khalaf, who's been washing the team's jumpers at Punchbowl Dry Cleaners for 15 years. They are Nicole Reynolds, who has been Josh's mum since, well, forever. Josh sits in the Bulldogs' new cafe/merchandise ship - The Bulldog Belmore - on Burwood Road ahead of the side's return to Belmore Sportsground on Monday against the Melbourne Storm. The place has been given a spit and polish, the pigeon poo has been hosed off the seats of the grandstand and all is ready for the first NRL match at the club's spiritual home since 1998, when the Dogs beat the Storm 8-4 in sideways rain.

Simply speaking: Terry Lamb is considered one of the greats of the Canterbury Bulldogs football club. Credit:Craig Golding Alongside Josh is probably the most famous player to wear the No.6 jumper for the club. Terry Lamb recalls a sea of Bulldogs people on the night of the 1995 grand final. That was Baa's last match before heading into retirement. His side had Manly covered that afternoon at the SCG, winning 17-4. What else does he remember? "Not much," Lamb deadpans. "After the game, it took the team bus an hour to get from Canterbury Road to here on Burwood Road. We couldn't go any further because we'd run people over. People were opening the doors of the bus, trying to take our jerseys and gear. We got our bags and walked to the Leagues Club under police escort."

Reynolds grew up all around Belmore, not far from where we are now. Was he one of them on that night 20 years ago? "Probably," he grins. When I look at Josh Reynolds, I see Terry Lamb; the same niggly, angry, competitive - and talented - player that rival fans love to hate. Mortimer was the same. I recently told the former captain I hated him when I was a kid. "It's funny how often I hear that," grinned Mortimer, who is possibly league's nicest man.

Says Lamb now: "My mother hated him until I started playing here." Reynolds laughs. "I get that a bit," he says. He then explains how his sin-binning against Penrith last weekend was unfair. "I didn't do anything wrong … this time!" he declares. "But you were thinking about it," Lamb says. He sees himself in Reynolds, too.

"He's competitive. He hates losing and I hated losing. You do anything you can to win. It's the competitiveness in us. When you're a successful player, the opposition fans hate us. We understand that. Our people understand it, too." It's one of the reasons why Reynolds can't walk about Belmore on this day without being constantly stopped for photos from fans, young and old. We walk into "European Cuts" on Bridge Street just around the corner, and the eyes of hairdressers Steve and Tonia Balafas light up like they've seen Elvis. There's a picture of "The King" on the wall. And one of Canterbury powerbrokers Peter "Bullfrog" Moore and Barry "Punchy" Nelson flanking former prime minister - and fan - Paul Keating. And a 1980s cheerleader. It's a throwback to a time that Sydney forgot.

"Yes! Big supporter here, mate!" insists Steve in a beautifully thick Greek accent. On this day, mate, we all are … except for Andrew Francis behind the counter at Dianne's Cafe. He's a Dragons man and he played footy against Reynolds many years ago when he was at De La Salle College Bankstown and Reynolds was at Marist Brothers. "He took my legs out late in tackle," Andrew offers. "We've been mates ever since." Andrew's father, Steve, is a proud Bulldogs man, though. "Here are the tickets for Monday night," he says, pulling them from his pocket when Lamb asks him if he's going to on Monday night.

He's a proud Lebanese man, too. Reynolds says he has walked down Burwood Road on many occasions and Lebanese families will invite him into their backyards for a traditional barbecue. It would be rude not to, of course. "When I played, they were Greek and Lebanese people," Lamb says. "Now they are Aussies. And they are Bulldogs supporters." Not all Dogs fans are so convivial, he says. A rare loss at Belmore many years ago could end with the tyres of a player's car being let down. Lamb tells the story about the afternoon in the 1980s when Phil Gould had joined the club from Penrith and was playing reserve grade. "Go back to Penrith, yer dog!" yelled one fan on the hill.

"Don't worry about it, Gus," said Darryl Brohman, slinging an arm around his teammate. "And take your big, fat mate with you!" barked the fan. They're the Berries, they're the Doggies, they're the Dogs of War. But above that, they're The Family Club. At the club's new cafe, you find Nicole Reynolds. Josh briefly moved to an apartment in Coogee with sweeping views of the ocean and beach. It's the only time he's ever lived anywhere but Belmore. He lasted a few months and moved home late last year.

He's renovated his home and knocked together a granny flat out the back for his mum. "It's better than the rest of the place," he quips. Nicole was a state-level netballer and softballer but she shelved all of it when Josh was born. "We've lived here our whole lives," he says. "I asked the club if I could get her a job here. She's really enjoying it, getting tips from the fans about how her son should play." And that's OK, of course, because they're all one and the same: Bulldogs people.