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New Zealanders don't seem to do unrequited support, not when it comes to sport, in any case. We constantly bitch about our rugby team, even when they win; we sl*g off our cricketers, even when no one expects them to win, and some of us even threaten to swim to Australia when we disagree with coaching appointments.

It's a moot point whether we even understand what support really means. The the idea of remaining loyal through thick and thin and being there when it counts, rather than when the odds are overwhelmingly in our favour, seems a foreign concept for some of us. It feels as if it would only take a few stumbles from the All Blacks (the finest sporting team we've ever produced, for goodness sake) to threaten the stability of the government.

But the manner in which we treat the New Zealand cricketers is even more bizarre; as if we've forgotten where they've come from, and their slapstick history over the past 78 years. An upset here, a purple patch occasionally; there was a time when true Kiwi cricket fans had a somewhat more refined sense of perspective.

Think of it for a moment. A world record 26 years until we won our first test. All out for 26 in a test innings. Our greatest player, Bert Sutcliffe, never played in a test-winning side. Dismissed for less than 100 on five occasions during the 1958 tour of England.

It hasn't been just the distant past, either. Stephen Fleming's side was skittled for 73 at Lahore in 2002 and for 76 a couple of years later at Brisbane. The test team is accurately ranked in seventh place, one above a rabble of a West Indian side, and two above Bangladesh. Humiliation has been keen for the aptly-named Black Caps; routed in back-to-back tests in South Africa, and beaten in four of their past five outings.

The one-day side continues to frustrate, even when presented with the equivalent of a rigged draw at the most recent world cup. They failed to make the finals of last year's tri-series in Australia, they were were pasted in last summer's Chappell-Hadlee showdowns, and have not won an away series (outside Zimbabwe and Bangladesh) since 2004.

They are the great basket-cases of New Zealand sport and should always be celebrated as such. Everyone seems to be going serious on them. Take the 2007 tourists in England. The way they've been attacked since succumbing 2-0 in the test series makes you wonder what people were expecting. I mean, they'd only recently lost at home to the same opposition when bolstered by the seasoned Fleming. It was a miracle they weren't swept 3-0.

True supporters would laugh at their ineptness but take heart from several optimistic signs. For a team with the least experienced test batting line-up in the world, less experienced, even than Bangladesh (none of the specialists has played more than 10 tests), they did well to even create the occasional opportunity. They could have won at Old Trafford; that would have made the entire series an overwhelming success.

Add the suspicion that Brendon McCullum and Ross Taylor have star-quality written all over them and that Jamie How, Daniel Flynn and even Aaron Redmond have a certain steel about their bearing, and it's not hard to find something to feel good about. We should probably also remember that, outside Bangladesh, Daniel Vettori has not yet been able to call the shots from a position of batting dominance. When the runs are scored, his captaincy may well be seen a different light.

I write these thoughts from the Warwickshire home of an ardent Aston Villa supporter; a gentleman who could not have seen his team win the English premiership since the early 1980s. British sports fans seem to have a far more healthy appreciation of what support is truly about. It's not the winning, although that certainly helps. It's more the sense of identity and camaraderie. As much as defeat might hurt, they don't feel stripped of their clothes.

A case in point would have to be Leeds United football supporters, who only a few weeks ago it seems (oh, all right then, 30 years ago) were one of the finest combinations in Britain. "Glory, glory Leeds United", so the chant went up, as players such as Peter Lorimer, Eddie Gray, Joe Jordan and the abrasive Billy Bremner strutted their stuff on the continent's biggest stages.

Now the side play in what is effectively the English third division, but still the fans flock in to back their team. In fact, there were more than 36,000 present last month when Leeds lost to Carlisle in the first-leg of the playoff semifinals. They applauded their team off the pitch at halftime, despite being down 0-1. They watched as Leeds fell two behind in the second half and then rejoiced as Dougie Freeman grabbed a crucial lifeline late in the game. The final whistle couldn't be heard because of the singing.

People here are unshakeable in their support, whatever hand of cards that might be dealt. Another long-suffering group of fans come from Newcastle United, the Toon Army, who regularly cram St James' Park with 50,000 supporters, despite the most recent trophy coming in 1969. Do they care? Of course they do, but they care more about the future than the past. I mean, heavens, there are even West Ham United fans.

Maybe we need to get a grip and remember how to enjoy the journey just as much as the destination. While we're at it, we might also start appreciating the significance of the Dunkirk factor; which holds that, even in defeat there can be glory. Think of New Zealand cricket's most memorable moments: a drawn series against England in 1949; courage in defeat during the Tangiwai test of 1953 in South Africa; the close miss at Trent Bridge in 1973.

As Theodore Roosevelt once said: "It is better to be faithful than famous".

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