It's getting a bit lonely here at the headquarters of the Mark Philippoussis Fan Club. In fact we had to give the cardboard cutout of Scud the right to vote just to get a quorum at this week's meeting.
You see, as much as we love the big fella, brushing off criticism of his latest Davis Cup no-show has been a bit like defending the India-Pakistan border with a pea-shooter.
Of course, Flip could be run over by a truck while suffering a heart-attack as he was mauled by a stampeding bull and some people would still think he was downright un-Australian if he didn't turn up for team practice on Monday morning.
But, at times like this, your history tends to catch up with you. And our man's recent history is only slightly less tragic than East Timor's.
Because he has sometimes shown the same relish for Davis Cup duty most people have for jury duty, there are even some within our membership who are willing to privately suggest that the Poo-poo doesn't have a sore knee. That he has gotten his dad to scribble a "Dear Mr Newcombe, please excuse Mark from Davis Cup duty ..." letter so he could stay home and play with his toys.
We have threatened to immediately remove membership privileges from these dissenters. After all, people who think like that don't deserve to have their turn holding the autographed racquet or access to the sweat socks we retrieved from the locker-room at the Australian Open.
Besides, weren't the same people now condemning Philippoussis for his Davis Cup absence praising him a couple of weeks ago when he said he would scale down his car collection to the odd Ferrari or two, move back to a humble little 20-acre, four-court property near Melbourne and really work on his game? We have it in black and white all over the clubhouse walls. The Scud has "new-found maturity" and "a refreshing new attitude". It was in the paper, so it must be true!
And - how soon they forget - if the Scud doesn't have a patriotic bone in his oversized body, how come he was the one who left it all on the court during the final in France last year? All Lleyton Hewitt's fist pumping wasn't worth a live rubber and Pat Rafter was back in Melbourne nursing his shoulder - and no one said he was faking it.
Yet, the moment Poo-poo pulled out of the Davis Cup our fierce rivals at the Pat Rafter Appreciation Society were on the phone. "Your man has a heart the size of Anna Kournikova's trophy cabinet! Can't play hurt!"
We mumbled something about Rafter's hairstyle and hung up. Bloody Rafterites. Imagine if he'd actually beaten Sampras!
Yet no one would have been happier to see the Scud out there pumping unplayable serves and nuclear backhands past the Brazilians more than us. And it's not just his big game that keeps us turning up for our weekly meetings, it's that he brings something different to the game.
We wouldn't tell the Rafterites, but we really like their man's Anglo blokeyness. With that laid back attitude and the "g'day mate" greetings Rafter could have stepped straight out of an Australian tennis museum. But if Rafter is a blast from the past, Philippoussis is the future. A role model for modern Australia. We know that because the names of most of our members contain more letters than a Croatian scrabble board.
Some of our female members also tell me the Scud is not unattractive, although you would like to think that in a professional sport like tennis looks are not important.
Only kidding!
But, as much as we love the Scud, we know a big game and a handy physique doesn't give him carte blanche to waste the talent Pat Cash and now Boris Becker have spent their idle moments trying to convert into grand slam silverware.
So, at this week's meeting (and on the casting vote of the cardboard cutout) we passed a motion. "We, the members of the Mark Philippoussis Fan Club, believe that the Scud really does have a sore knee and was in such pain this week he couldn't have taken a set off Arantxa Sanchez Vicario's pet spaniel.
"However, in light of his mediocre Davis Cup attendance record, we strongly encourage him to turn up for the final - providing Rafter and Hewitt don't blow it in the semi - or risk the entire membership refusing to wear our `Scud Is No Dud' t-shirts at next year's Aussie Open."
We can only hope this assertive action brings swift results. Otherwise next week we're going to have to give the framed poster and the autographed replica shorts the vote too.