But as we sit through yet another close-season of frustration, enduring the same small-minded penny-pinching which has marred the past six summers, I wonder if we are paying the price for the great euphoria which engulfed Ibrox on May 5.
In the build-up to the final Old Firm clash of the season, the FF Messageboard was full of talk of a concerted boycott of the renewal of season tickets, letting it be known to Murray and Bain that Bears would no longer be prepared to shell out their hard-earned shekels for yet another season of inadequacy and incompetence. But having already beaten Them at the Cesspit, we all got carried away on the day as the Gers wiped the floor with Strap-on's lot and we allowed ourselves to believe that, with Walter having sorted out PLG's under-achievers, we were ready to turn the corner.
After all, having won the battle for Kevin Thomson's signature, we were told Scott Brown was a done deal, Steven Naismith was also sure to be Ibrox-bound and there was talk of another two or three useful new arrivals from the Continent. Sir David's press poodles wouldn't lie to us, would they?
Well, I assume I am not the only Bear to be massively underwhelmed by our club's recent transfer activity. I like the look of Cuellar, I'm fine with the potential of Gow and Broadfoot, I'm hoping Darcheville can help to fill the void left by Dado's departure and I reckon Beasley might bring a wee bit more out of Boydie. Yet it still looks like more of the same to me, with Septic seeking to up the ante while we patch up and make do, hoping against hope that things will work out fine because, if this new team does not hit the ground running, there is no Plan B. For the sixth time since the turn of the century, our title challenge could be snuffed out while the embers of the Guy Fawkes Night bonfires are still glowing.
Am I too negative? Maybe I am - God I hope so! - but there is one picture I just can't get out of my mind. As we celebrated the 2-0 defeat of the Charlie Sims and indulged in a wee bit of GIRUY fun over the ensuing day or two, I can envisage Murray and Bain smugly enjoying some mutual back-slapping. "They're all happy now, that's us out of jail for another year."
Think about it. Just as we did after the 2003 Treble, Helicopter Sunday and the appointment of PLG, we let ourselves to be conned by the promise of better days ahead - we really want to believe! - instead of seriously looking into what is going on at our club, asking questions about Rangers' long-term strategy (is there one?), where will we be three/five/ten years from now?
I wouldn't swop the joy of Helicopter Sunday for anything, nor would I pass up on that wonderful feeling of toying with the Mhanky Mhob last time around, but the suggestion that things will have to get worse - maybe a lot worse! - before they begin to get better, scares me shitless.
Normally this is the time of year I approach my football in an upbeat frame of mind. After all, the Other Lot, for all their high profile wheeling and dealing, still don't look all that clever to me and it should not take too great an effort to put them under some pressure. But having been repeatedly let down over the years, I'm no longer prepared to set myself up for another painful fall. I can't see where any new optimism can come from and it bothers me big-time that, by allowing my ambitions for our wonderful club to be diminished, I'm one step closer to accepting second best.
We must not allow this to happen but, sadly, while the Minted One uses our club as his plaything and continues to treat the ever-loyal supporters with contempt, the battle we face will be long and hard.