Making the reasonably safe assumption the A-League has not been suffering an abnormally high rate of maritime distress, something needed to be done about flares.

Some hysterical media coverage suggests flares are the most likely source of mass destruction after a Donald Trump tweet about North Korea.

"Active supporters" counter their greatest threat is to a hipster fan's singed beard.

Regardless, it is illegal to rip a flare during an A-League game unless you happen to be watching on a sinking ship.

End of story.

The result? This weekend the empty areas vacated by the Western Sydney Wanderers banned supporter group the Red and Black Bloc will get more media attention than the full (ish) grandstands at the Melbourne Derby and the top of the table Newcastle Jets-Sydney FC clash.

Which is typical of a catastrophic A-League season during which the light at the end of every tunnel has been the 4.20pm from Penrith, and the only things lower than the game's morale are the TV and crowd figures.

In that regard, the sight of fans in the RBB mistaking a goal for a drowning swimmer during last Sunday's otherwise excellent derby did not merely serve up a succulent main course for the football-loathing elements of the media.

It provided a stark reminder of one of the A-League's most frustrating dilemmas — the delicate balance required in maintaining the raucous atmosphere that was once the league's greatest attraction while imposing reasonable behavioural standards.

A-League fans, like Western Sydney Wanderers' Red and Black Bloc, were the stars of the show in the league's early years. ( AAP: Dean Lewins )

Wind back the A-League fixture five years. Remember the glow from those experiencing "live soccer" for the first time at a big game?

The most common tributes then were not for the slightly arthritic wizardry of Alessandro Del Piero or another of the other ageing superstars the A-League could then afford to import.

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The A-League's point of difference was its loud, joyous supporters whose presence was palpable and uplifting for the full 90 minutes.

The AFL and even the NRL might have had larger crowds, but A-League fans were part of the rhythm of the contest.

Upon Western Sydney Wanderers' admission, there were more words written about the RBB than any player. The fans were the stars of the show, although perhaps a monster was created.

Like a suddenly famous young movie star storming off to his trailer because there was not enough paw paw on the fruit platter, the behaviour and statements of some RBB members over recent seasons suggests the group has become deluded by self-importance.

The point at which the once mutually beneficial dynamic between fan and A-League broke down is difficult to gauge because —quite literally in some cases — so much smoke has been blown.

The FFA will tell you that serial troublemakers poisoned the well and it had to crack down on the "worst elements" in order to uphold safety standards and the "image of the game".

Trawl fan web sites and you might be convinced it was heavy-handed police and security firms, who treated innocent supporters like axe murderers, who were to blame for inflaming crowd problems.

Stuck in the middle are the clubs trying desperately to keep fans on board while satisfying the demands of the image-conscious FFA.

Cycle of outrage is so, so predictable

Have we seen this before? The A-League tends to get caught in a loop whenever fan incidents occur. ( AAP/FFA )

Whatever the cause, the A-League finds itself trapped in an achingly predictable cycle that follows Newton's Law of Football Emotion, where for every action there is a completely over-the-top reaction.

1: Fan lights flare.

2: Predictable "Tsk tsking" from pipe-smoking newspaper editorialists — generally those who have so little interest in football they would rather attend their own disembowelment than an A-League game.

3: Strident photo-op condemnation from the FFA, usually accompanied by a threatened heavy sanction.

4: Reluctant intervention from "offending" club, which must somehow tow the FFA line while trying to ensure membership doesn't slump further because its share of a sub-par TV rights deal means it will struggle to buy a box of paper clips next season, let alone a decent midfielder.

5: Hysterical response from fan group who instead of condemning rogue flare-lighting members and concentrating on reasonable claims of mistreatment design more "hilarious" inflammatory T-shirts.

The RBB's reaction to its expulsion from Sunday's game might be considered a classic of this genre.

"Club owners and CEOs are quick to admonish the FFA behind closed doors, but kneel down and lick their boots in the public domain," it blustered.

"There are only a handful of people with enough balls to stand up to the FFA, the rest have sold their souls, along with their dignity and respect."

But if this sounds like the foot-stomping rhetoric of schoolchildren campaigning for a change to the "no soft drinks in the tuckshop" policy, there is a kernel of truth amid the overblown language.

A-League club officials mutter privately that the FFA administration is so obsessed by courting "mainstream media" — even those elements that are openly hostile to football — there is a reasonable assumption among fans that head office cares more about its own image than the best interests of the game.

These club officials wonder if by dancing to the tune of outsiders, the FFA is abandoning those fully invested in the A-League and losing its self-respect.

Meanwhile, the grandstands have gone quiet and the A-League has lost one of its greatest selling points.

You can blame a few idiots, but you are also entitled to ask if those paid to fix the problem have been hearing the right voices.