For the most part we were all football fans of some kind before the A-League revolutionised Australian football.
Some of us were refugees seeking sporting asylum when the National Soccer League simply ceased to exist. Far more of us, if low crowd figures were any indication of NSL fandom, supported teams in far flung leagues - mostly European, guided by our heritage.
We, Frank Lowy's true believers, threw our allegiances behind new teams that were created from next-to-nothing and modelled on the relative successes of Perth Glory and Adelaide United.
I was one of them, behind the goal at the Northern End, for the then Queensland Roar's first league match against New Zealand Knights. It remains a great memory that I will always cherish but it was glaringly obvious the crowd were yet to take ownership of their new team.
I recall the stadium announcer urging the 20,000 strong crowd to "give a roar" for their new orange and blue heroes. It was a sound most of us couldn't envisage. Most weren't at that stage ready to lend their voice to this plastic fantastic franchise.
But now, five full years later, we have become true fans of a football club - buying memberships, banging drums, singing songs, marching down Caxton Street wearing our colours with pride.
This realisation came to me as I mulled for months over whether to attend Brisbane Roar's upcoming fixture against Everton. You see, and hate me if you will, before Brisbane Roar and even before Brisbane Strikers, I was always a Liverpool fan.
Liverpool became my team when a big haired South African cum Australian cum Englishman by the name of Craig Johnston was running around the still-terraced grounds of the old English First Division.
By supporting the red half of Merseyside I needed to cast aside my family's football traditions - one half Chelsea fanatics, the other more reserved Arsenal enthusiasts. This was easily done since, being on the other side of the globe, it was difficult to identify with these boroughs of London.
I chose Liverpool not because they were consistently winning the league and various cups at that time but because I was sort of obsessed with those other famous Liverpudlians, The Beatles.
I learned the club's history and I learned the names of all the players. I learned to sing You'll Never Walk Alone with a faintly ridiculous accent. I also learned to despise Liverpool FC's cross town rivals.
Everton were the enemy I was told, draped in blue, playing in Goodison - a different team for a different type of fan.
So it seemed logical that despite attending all previous Roar Against Racism matches over the past three seasons, I would boycott this fixture out of loyalty to my childhood club.
I justified this by the fact that ticket revenue would not be going to Brisbane Roar, but to Everton and the tour's promoter. I figured that non-attendance wouldn't hurt the orange and maroon. Of course, I was wrong.
Because if I boycotted this match I wouldn't be there to welcome new signings Shane Stefanutto, Eric Paartalu, Thomas Broich and Michael Theoklitos. I wouldn't be there to see a famous, if improbable, victory against the odds. And I wouldn't be there to simply enjoy a quality football match in the middle of winter when it should be played.
And so I realised that a personal boycott wasn't some mark of respect for my childhood club but merely childish crap. I had to attend and so eventually bought my tickets.
Then it dawned on me because of all this that Brisbane Roar is now not just my A-League team but my football club. Not because Frank Lowy asked me to support this league and not because Roar are simply there. But because they represent a little bit of me.
They are from my corner of Queensland. They play an Australian type of football. They forge hard for recognition in a rugby-league dominated town. They even have a rather ruinous sense of fashion that nobody else seems to understand.
They are more like me than that glitteringly successful all-red club in Lancashire could ever be.
Yes, I have been writing this blog for a while now and I have always defended Roar. But now, as I prepare myself to watch a match involving Everton, it truly feels like my club.
I am a Brisbane Roar supporter first and a Liverpool FC fan second.
I will still always love Liverpool Football Club. I will dance and sing when they finally win the league again. But I know deep down that the day Brisbane Roar lift the toilet-seat trophy will mean so much more to me.
That seeing Brisbane qualify and hopefully one day win the Asian Champions League, plying their brand of football against the best the continent has to offer, will be more rewarding than Liverpool's now fabled Miracle In Istanbul.
And to that end I will sit through the chants of Everton ex-pats this Saturday evening. Purely for the pleasure of watching my club play not just for me but also for the thousands of other like minded Brisbanites who have taken ownership of this club as well.
It no longer seems to matter that we support different European clubs. Nor for that matter different clubs in the local Brisbane Premier League. We are all Brisbane Roar supporters now.
And hopefully, we forever will be.
Now I just need to convince Kevin Airs to start paying me for this blog so I can afford to buy myself a season ticket. What do you say, KA? [Join the queue...! - KA]
