Cheer when an opponent shows skill
In a week dominated by talk of football finance and the Old Firm heading to England to maximise their revenue, I met two great Glasgow football fans who lifted my spirits and made me remember what it is I love about the beautiful game.
Brothers Davie and Ronnie Jackson from Rutherglen are probably heading towards bus pass age, but their joy and fervour for football shone as brightly as mine the first time I was lifted over the turnstiles.
Both are Clyde fans. Both had chucked an old rucksack over their shoulders and took a cheap day ticket to Dundee to have a gander at the two football grounds, because that's what football fans do.
I'd just interviewed United chairman Stephen Thompson, when I bumped into the "boys".
Strolling up to Dens and Tannadice on spec, they'd been given a guided tour of each ground. At Tannadice, Ken Nicol, who among other jobs holds the fort occasionally at the reception desk, had shown them round and treated them to lunch on the club.
The three of us got talking and they regaled me with tales of football old and new, but mostly old.
Because although their hearts lie with the Bully Wee, they are of a vintage like our grandfathers, fathers and uncles. It is the game and the game's great players they love over and above one football club.
As laddies when the cost of following Clyde away from home was out of the question, they high-tailed it to Cathkin Park on a Saturday to see Third Lanark (now defunct from the senior game but making a comeback as a Glasgow amateur side).
They talked glowingly of the greats like Goodfellow, Hilley, Harley, Gray and McInnes as though they were fans of the Hi Hi and not the side from Shawfield.
And, in truth, they were. They were of a generation that loved football for its own sake and for the joy of watching great players, regardless of the team.
Fittingly, given that we stood in the corridor at Tannadice, they reminisced about seeing Dundee United as an old second division side and waxed lyrically about a man who is a hero for both Clyde and the Arabs, Johnny Coyle, whose goal won the Scottish Cup for Clyde in 1958 against the Hibs at Hampden.
Names like Harry Haddock, George Brown and Tommy Ring peppered their animated conversation as the great players of yesteryear tripped off their tongues the way you used to recite the times tables.
They glowingly recalled the Dundee side containing Cox Seith, Wishart, Gilzean and Ure which won the league in 1962 and set Europe alight, beating Cologne, Sporting Lisbon, and Anderlecht before falling to AC Milan in the semi-finals of the European Cup.
By the time they started on the joys of Hearts' terrible trio of Conn, Bauld and Wardhaugh and the Hibs Famous Five, memories of my own late dad were swimming round my head.
He too was like the Jacksons, regularly recalling with gusto great goals by a Billy Steel or a Laurie Reilly, or grimacing as he recalled a crunching tackle from Rangers' Willie Woodburn or the Dons' Davie Shaw.
The game was the thing for them, even over and above club loyalty.
They had, and have, a deep love and appreciation of genuine and committed talent irrespective of which shirt it wore.
Meeting the Jacksons made me think. How often do any of us these days put our hands together for a great goal or an inspired pass by the opposition?
Something, which if one of our own had done, would have us out of our seats and three feet in the air.
Maybe it's time to start celebrating the game the right way again.
We all want to see our teams win and prosper, but surely first and foremost we want to see the game played the right way, and can be big enough to show our appreciation when an opposing player does something out of the ordinary.
So come on. Whether you're a Hibee, a Jambo or a Dandy Don, whether you're a Sellick man or a Teddy Bear, go on, celebrate when you see genius in action.
When Sone Aluko leaves a trail of defenders gasping in his wake as he flies down the wing, when Andy Dorman drives past three defenders and lashes one into the top corner, and when Derek Riordan turns on a five pence piece and rifles one in from ten yards, forget the colours you're wearing for a brief minute, and put your hands together for the beautiful game.
Like me after meeting Davie and Ronnie Jackson, you'll feel the better for it.