When I started this blog, I made a conscious decision to try to avoid the mainstream. The last thing you need is yet another smart-arsed sofa expert offering their views on why Aston Villa aren't world-beaters yet, or why England can't put 50 points past Italy at rugby, or what went wrong (then right) for England's cricketers Down Under.
But blogs, so the Trinity Mirror guide to best blogging practice tells me, should engage the reader....and I can think of nothing more likely to engage the reader this week than David Sullivan's remarkable observations on Birmingham City supporters.
I count myself as a Birmingham City supporter. I have been so since roughly the age of nine, when I began to appreciate the talent of an attacking line-up which included (I have this imprinted on my brain), Campbell, Hatton, Francis, Latchford and Taylor.
The 1975 FA Cup semi-final defeat to Fulham was the second football match I can remember crying over (England v West Germany, Mexico 1970, was the first). I've stood in the rain on the old Kop among a crowd of 8,000 while the Zulus brawled with the West Midlands Police on the Tilton End. I relish Aston Villa's every woe. I want Birmingham City back in the Premiership and not only because it would help the Post's football coverage.
Yet the last time I actually went to St Andrew's was the year Blues were promoted from what I am old enough to think of as the Second Division.
Does David Sullivan (worth £610million, according to the 2007 Birmingham Post Rich List) want to know why? Here's why.
I live five minutes walk from The Lamb, home of Tamworth Football Club, who play (for this season at least) in the Nationwide Conference. it costs me £11 to stand right behind the opposition dugout, cheering on the Lambs and hurling choice epithets at the opposition manager for 90 minutes.
There will be one or two stewards making sure no-one vaults the barrier and the language doesn't get too choice. No-one will be telling us every ten seconds to sit down and getting thrown out would take a spectacular effort.
At half-time, I can go in the clubhouse, watch the scores on Sky Sports News, drink a pint of top-quality real ale for £2.50, then come out and buy a burger and a cup of tea for £2.30.
After the game, I can walk 200 yards up the road to my local, drink another two pints and go home.
Total cost? £20 at most. for four hours of entertainment.
Ok, the quality of football has not been great this year or last, but over the last decade, I have seen the Lambs rise from the West Midlands League to the brink of the Football League and play some damned fine football along the way.
I know the players I'm watching are earning a few hundred pounds a week, many of them doing so while holding full-time jobs. I know they may not be that skilful but they'll give 110 per cent for the team and they'll have some empathy with the supporters, who probably earn not much less than they do.
And I know that games will kick off at 3pm on a Saturday or 7.45pm on a Tuesday.
Even if I didn't live five minutes from the ground, I could park my car a free-kick away and not be accosted by a chav in a baseball cap offering to mind it for me.
And David Sullivan (worth £610million according to the 2007 Birmingham Post Rich List) wonders why people with an affiinity for the club won't pay £29 per person plus parking, food, drink and an overpriced programme to stand in the cold at 11.30 on a Sunday morning.
Once upon a time, football was the game of the common man. At Tamworth's level and below, it still is. In the Premiership and the Championship? Forget it.