For the third time in three seasons Adelaide United have managed to take the hopes and expectations I hold for my beloved Brisbane Roar, crumple them in to a ball and piss all over them like some kind of, well, piss-ant.
First the red-shirts denied us a Premiership and the automatic Asian qualification that goes with it in 2008. The following season they denied us our maiden grand final appearance and again we Brisbanites watched with envious eyes as another two non-orange Australian teams competed in the Champions League.
Then to complete this terrible trifecta, last Saturday night the A-League's only real ‘United' officially ended our quest for a third successive year of finals football.
I feel the question needs to be asked, what did Brisbane ever do to you, Adelaide? We didn't steal your grand prix - that was Melbourne. And we didn't beat you in two grand finals - that was Melbourne too.
So why does Adelaide United insist upon repeatedly breaking Brisbane hearts whenever Roar travel to Hindmarsh Stadium in late summer? After all, our two towns have so much in common, like brown water - albeit ours flows down the river and yours conveniently flows from a tap.
We even swallowed our pride and cheered your mob during an enthralling Champions League campaign a few seasons back, altruistically overlooking the fact that it was our Oggy-Monster that was wearing your crimson shirt in the heart of defence.
Well, don't expect it this year Adelaide, you're now on your own. I'll be backing those grand-prix stealing, grand final winning, latte-sipping Melburnians just to spite you.
Of course, blaming the city of Adelaide and it's only professional football club for Brisbane Roar's performance last weekend is scape-goating of the highest order. If the truth be told, Brisbane Roar simply didn't show up for the make-or-break match.
If Andy Warhol had been a football fan he perhaps would've described the team's effort as "15 minutes of game" as it seemed there was only a quarter hour period at the end of the first half where Brisbane Roar looked even remotely threatening.
The rest of the match was a painful litany of mistimed passes, poor control and more than one baffling tactical change by Ange Postecoglou e.g. replacing Tommy "Only My Mum Calls Me Thomas" Oar yet still not pushing Michael Zullo up the field where he is most effective.
I acknowledge we are a team in transition and as I have written previously I am willing to give Postecoglou a full off-season to mould a team to his liking and devise a strategy that works. I can also understand that some of the players that we saw on Saturday night are merely stop-gap measures that won't be at the club next year. But the frustration is starting to get the better of me.
I don't mind if my team loses, after all it is not always the better team that wins. I can find as much to savour in a competitive loss as in a cheeky, ill-deserved win courtesy of Sergio van Dijk's bum. But I can't find much joy in being outplayed by the club most likely to claim the wooden spoon.
Furthermore, I'm really not sure who was to blame for the performance on Saturday. Is it the coach? Is it the players? Or was it just one of those nights where every little thing goes wrong? Perhaps it was all of the above.
One thing is for sure however, I really shouldn't be blaming Adelaide. After all, there is much to thank the tiny town on the Torrens for - Shaun Micallef, The Hilltop Hoods and of course Coopers Pale Ale.
They should also be thanked for showing Brisbane Roar how to play with pride and purpose even once their season has gone down the drain. Hopefully, it's a lesson the orange-clad lads take on board for our final game of the season against Perth this weekend.
And if history could repeat itself just the once more this season then I wouldn't mind - Brisbane Roar have not lost at ME Bank Stadium since the A-League's inaugural season.
