What those close to the coal face have long understood – more so since the advent of the A-League 12 years ago – is that passion will always be what counts. It's why the migrants who have come to this country bringing a love of football with them continue to drive the engine room of the game with such force, and enthusiasm. Despite so often being marginalised, their passion still makes them go the extra yard.

The architects of the A-League might have thought – and perhaps hoped – that they'd bury the game's ethnicity once and for all by setting up a sanitised, corporatised, shop window. Get rid of the flags, the smoke, the smells, the chants, of "old soccer", and "new football" will sweep the nation's most-played sport into the mythical "mainstream".

The A-League has been a huge success story, no doubt. But as the A-League clubs, and the FFA, ponder how to better connect the game with its foundations, and how to revitalise the broken development system, they find themselves back in familiar territory. Dealing with ethnic clubs. They're not the only contributors at this level of football, of course. But as the FFA Cup shows, they're the ones still setting the bar.

Get rid of the hang-ups, embrace the diversity, and a bigger, better, world opens up. It doesn't have to be Us and Them. Two of the most memorable FFA Cup nights have been at Olympic Village, home of Heidelberg United, and Edensor Park, home of Sydney United. Packed houses, record ratings. The smell of souvlaki, or cevapi, in the night air. Believe it or not, ethnicity sells. If it's done right.

Sydney United, proudly, staunchly, of Croatian descent, are starting to get it. They're fulfilled by their past, but not trapped by it. Here's a tricky question. If the FFA removed its ban on ethnic names, would the club go back to calling itself Sydney Croatia? Would it retreat into its shell?