Despite the headline, the situation was actually a little more akin to Cannery Row than it was John Steinbeck’s masterwork of dustbowl depression.  The dishevelled drunk in old tennis shoes saw to that.

“I just can’t bloody stand that Besart Berisha bloke,” he blurted just loud enough so that your humble blogger, despite standing at the opposite end of a longer than average bar, could clearly hear each slurred syllable.

“I just want to smack the smirk right off his face,” he continued before then shooting me a red-eyed stare that left little doubt it was in fact I, overtly outfitted in officially licensed Brisbane Roar orange, that was the intended audience of his soused soliloquy.

My own eyes, crystal clear courtesy of a new found taste for sobriety (don't ask!), narrowed as I responded instinctively and without any regard for the consequences of provoking this intoxicated idiot’s itching for confrontation - what I did was laugh.

Now, I wasn’t laughing at the drunk – that would come much later when he unashamedly wet himself – rather I was laughing at the irony that his whine had quite obviously been pressed with the sourest of grapes.

It’s a feeling I rather reluctantly admit to knowing all too well myself.

You see, I haven’t always been the fair-minded football fan that I purport to be. For the first few years of the A-League I was terribly envious of players like Archie Thompson, Joel Griffiths and Shane Smeltz who regularly netted not only against my beloved Roar but every other team as well.

This envy, when combined with my somewhat antiheroic consumption of overpriced ales at the stadium’s renowned ‘heavy bar’ and general frustration at my own side’s impotency in the final third, would manifest itself as low key hostility not all that dissimilar to this fella’s rant.

(Although, my rants tended to be peppered with language more suited to a certain ex-Prime Minister – so apologies if you had the misfortune to have sat in my vicinity during those dark days of Roar yore.)

Now though, it would appear that the shoe – or should that be golden boot? - is very much on the other foot.

In Besart Berisha Brisbane Roar finally have a striker that is so talented, so devastatingly deft in the front of goal and so uncompromisingly competitive in everything he does on the field – even walking off it – that some opposition fans can’t help but hate him for it.

Oh sure, they may use terms like ‘arrogant’ or ‘cocky’ to mask their jealous prejudices but I won’t fall for such thinly veiled deceptions. As I said, I have been in their position before.

A perfect example was the reaction Berisha’s now infamous altercation with Sydney FC’s Pascal Bosschaart elicited a few weeks back.

As much as people spoke out about such fuzzy concepts as sportsmanship and decorum, I suspect that deep down they secretly wished they had a player with that much passion plying his trade for their own club.

After all, undisguised passion has been a little thin on the ground for the first seven seasons of the A-League (especially compared to the old National Soccer League), even if it can be found in abundance in the grand stands and in supporter's bars across the country. Heck, I even expect quite a few comments on this very blog will passionately disagree with my opinion, as is their right.

But ultimately, I believe that it is Berisha's passion for the game, and in turn his club, that drives his never-say-die attitude on the pitch. Without that he would be yet another A-League import with the talent at his feet but no desire to really make it count.

Even as handy as long departed strikers Alex Brosque, Reinaldo, Sergio van Dijk and Jean Carlos Solorzano were for Brisbane in past seasons, they never seemed the type to challenge a defender to fisticuffs off the field; in fact, and again unlike Berisha, the cited quartet rarely bothered to challenge a defender for something as simple as regaining lost possession.

Now I am not saying I unreservedly endorse Berisha’s actions against Bosschaart, nor his quite public admonishing of team mate James Meyer a few weeks later, but I also won't chide him for these incidents either. I mean, how could any Roar fan not endorse his devotion no matter how misplaced?

So while some may argue Besart Berisha is Brisbane Roar’s best ever striker based on his goal scoring record alone – his brace against Victory on Saturday night took him past van Dijk's previous single season club record of 13 – or simply for his tireless work ethic in defending from the front and chasing down every loose ball in the final third; I argue he is the best because he has gotten under the skin of opposing fans, and dare I say some players, more than any other striker in the club’s short history.

After all, rival supporters don’t hate on strikers that are unreliable, enigmatic or simply out of their depth. Instead they prefer to mock them - Reinaldo's time at the club was arguably proof enough of that.

Right now though, as much as some may feel the need to speak out against him, there is nobody outright mocking Besart Berisha. They wouldn't bloody dare.

Unless perhaps they are itching for a invite to the carpark themselves. But that's an invitation even a bigmouth drunk in old tennis shoes probably wouldn't have the grapes to accept. In fact, he might just wet himself all over again.