Sam Kerr has her hands on her knees, her haggard face turned blankly towards the corner flag.

Her Chelsea teammates drag their exhausted bodies into the penalty area, readying themselves for the incoming corner — their last chance to equalise against Reading in their final Women's Super League game before the winter break.

Kerr feigns enthusiasm, bouncing around unconvincingly on her toes, trying to manifest the energy her side has lacked all game.

But she watches forlornly as the tired corner kick sails well over her head and bounces over to the other side of the field.

Moments later, the full-time whistle blows. It's Chelsea's first loss in the 2021-22 Women's Super League season, and Kerr – having competed in three simultaneous domestic competitions as well as national team friendlies over the past few months – tips her wearied head into her gloved hands.

That single gesture encapsulated how it feels as Australia crawls towards the end of 2021: battered, fatigued, demoralised.

Indeed, Australian sport has acted as a kind of barometer for the nation's past 12 months.

Not only has it offered desperately needed snatches of escapism and distraction amid endless lockdowns — and platforms upon which we address wider social issues such as racism, sexual abuse, and discrimination — but it has also reminded us of how powerful individuals can be when they work together to achieve something greater than themselves.

Few national teams captured this sentiment more than the Matildas.

Their tumultuous year, filled with doubt and progress in equal measure, seemed to mirror what many of us experienced as our everyday lives were reshaped, perhaps forever, by the pandemic.

Indeed, the Matildas were one of the first national teams in global sport to be affected by the original outbreak as they were forced to move their Tokyo Olympic qualifiers from Wuhan to Sydney in early 2020.

As the world reckoned with its own capabilities and limitations, trying to rapidly carve a path into an unknown and ever-shifting pandemic future, so too were the Matildas rapidly reminded of the difficult months and years that lie ahead.

Their first three games of 2021 were against Germany, the Netherlands and Denmark: Three losses, 13 goals conceded and just four scored.

These were the first results under new head coach Tony Gustavsson: Not quite the first impression a new leader wants to make on an iconic team or on an adoring nation.

But there was method to the madness. Gustavsson's mandate has been twofold: To deliver short-term results in major tournaments while, simultaneously, laying out a road map for the future of the national team.

Doubts brewed over both as the team recorded a draw against Sweden and a slim loss to Japan in their final pre-Tokyo friendlies, entering the Olympics with one of the worst preparation track records of any of the competing nations.

But we had faith in them, faith that they were capable of achieving great things against the odds.

And so they proved themselves to be. We watched from our locked-down homes as the Matildas went on a storming, spirited Olympic run that resulted in an historic fourth-placed finish.

While the Tokyo stadiums stood silent and empty, the living rooms of millions across Australia were filled with noise and colour.

Their breathless, 4-3 come-from-behind defeat of Great Britain in extra-time embodied all that the Matildas have come to represent to the country over the years: The perseverance, the belief, the "never say die" attitude that's stitched into their iconic jerseys.

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It felt as though the wellspring of hope from which the team drew in Tokyo spilled out of the screens on which we watched them, flooding into our lives when we needed it most, even if just for 90 minutes.

But the halo-effect was short-lived. Following that euphoric tournament — a testament to the power of football as a conductor of our collective emotions — the team was then plunged back into the reality of the hard work ahead after an uninspiring 3-2 loss to the Republic of Ireland in September in a performance that Gustavsson himself described as "shit".

They faced difficulty off the field, too, arriving home for a two-game series against Brazil amid a storm of allegations about a toxic culture in the sport.

True to character, the team stood in solidarity with one another, acknowledging the hurt while protecting themselves and the precious thing they have created together.

It was the first time they'd been back on Australian soil for over a year, yet the team still felt far away.

Their bio-secure bubble meant they couldn't hug friends, family or fans — the comforts of home just out of reach. It was a reminder that even the athletes and sports we use to escape from the anxieties of our lives are carrying their own doubts and fears, not to mention the growing hopes and expectations of a nation as the 2023 Women's World Cup draws closer.

The return of the team to Sydney and Newcastle to take on world champions USA — their last hit-out before next month's Asian Cup — turned attention back to the field, yet it raised more questions than answers: The Matildas' defence remained brittle and shallow, its midfield inconsistent, its strike-force lacking dimension and variety.

But Gustavsson knows this by now. And having handed out more opportunities and caps to new players since 2007, he cannot be accused of not trying to find rapid fixes.

January's Asian Cup will be a test of how much further he has come in the six months since Tokyo; where Australia will likely see the blueprint for the side and the style that will host the world's biggest football tournament in just 18 months' time.

And yet, while the performances against the USA were underwhelming, both matches attracted record-breaking crowds, with hundreds of fans hanging over fences with jerseys and smartphones, just waiting for a glimpse of their idols.

The Matildas joyfully obliged, staying over an hour after the final whistle each time, the value of this team living as much outside the white lines as within them.

In a few weeks, the Matildas head to India for their final major competition dress rehearsal before 2023.

There is a sense of déjà vu to it all: Australia grappling with yet another COVID-19 wave as domestic and international sport careens towards further disruption and delay.

And, just like last time, we will watch and support them from afar: Seeing in this team of women the kind of belief and togetherness that we wish Australia itself could embody and embrace; the kind of spirit this current moment of global crisis requires.

Because, if the Matildas can survive the roller-coaster past 12 months — the fluctuating border restrictions, exhausting cross-continental schedules, stuttering on-field performances, isolating bubbles, media firestorms and an ever-sharpening international spotlight — yet still have belief in themselves and what they are capable of achieving together, then surely so can we.