That Aussies love their sport is obviously, a given. That they're also pretty good at it is equally true.

What's less apparent however, is the fact that on the admittedly rare occasions when they fail, the wrath of the nation rains down upon the hapless losing athlete like a sub tropical monsoon.

Currently receiving it in the neck is tennis prodigy Nick Kyrgios.

Nobody's idea of a humble, unassuming role model, Nick's Wimbledon antics - for that's what they were - were largely tolerated by Australians for the simple reason that he was winning.

Whilst the rest of the world was squirming at the rubbish haircut, the cursing, finger-pointing and crass, associated bad-boy behaviour, the press here were continually making excuses for him and, if not exactly ignoring the tomfoolery, were certainly attempting to put it in what they saw as 'context'.

He's young, he doesn't stand on ceremony, he's informal.

He's Aussie, mate.

The story took on a different tone entirely when he finally lost, especially as it looked to all intents and purposes as if he chucked away a crucial game following a cringeworthy hissy fit brought on by a minor contretemps with the Umpire.

Disgraceful was the verdict.

Shocking, the various media mouthpieces chorused. Unacceptable, unfathomable and quite plainly, 'Un-Australian'.

Even poor old Dawn Fraser, an Olympic Gold Medal swimmer back in the mists of time, got in on the act, expressing her revulsion at Nick for 'tanking'.

'He tanked', said Dawn. 'That's what I can't understand. He simply tanked'.

Dawn could, of course, have gone the full hog and labelled Kyrgios a 'complete tanker' but she didn't, though given the perfectly understandable furore about her subsequent comments about his 'going back to where his parents came from', perhaps it might've been better if she had.

These days, Dawn's public image is largely focused on a TV advertising gig where she expounds the benefits of a hydroponic foot massager. Undoubtedly a better place to put them rather than, in this case, her mouth.

Kyrgios and his lesser known and only marginally better behaved compatriot Bernard Tomic are currently Public Enemies Number 1 and 2 in the Aussie media, not entirely unconnected with the fact that they both 'tanked' at Wimbledon.

Possibly as a result of the huge amount of public expectation heaped upon their callow shoulders, both players having been touted as world-beaters for years, despite the fact that, so far, neither has won anything, they've both reacted in a wholly negative, unattractive, accusatory way.

It's not our fault, seems to be the mantra, with, in Tomic's case anyway, the finger of culpability being being well and truly pointed at the National body, Tennis Australia, who he claims haven't supported him enough.

This is ironic since any time either player appears in a major tournament, they're invariably supported by a group of fans known as 'The Fanatics', who, decked out in green and gold, enjoy a prominent position on TV broadcasts and have an extensive stockpile of encouraging chants and songs.

Well, three or four anyway.

Everyone loves a winner of course; a loser only becomes appealing when they display a reasonable and discernible amount of genuine modesty ,a quality, no doubt, that some might regard as 'Un-Australian'.

You can't win them all, however, a notion most Scots understand only too well and one which may well become clear as our own boy, Andy Murray attempts to lift the Wimbledon prize this week.

For the Aussies, however, it's back to the drawing board, the tennis is over and the focus switches sports, with expectation in the upcoming Ashes series ramping up to fever pitch.

Already the media here is giving it big licks, predicting a whitewash, a thrashing, a shellacking - as those arrogant Poms get what's coming to them - and quite right too.

Even as we speak, The Fanatics are re-applying the green and gold zinc cream, tuning up their three song repertoire and preparing to kangaroo hop all the way from Wimbers to Lords.

As a confirmed, card-carrying, 100% son of one of Jock Tamson Bams, I've very, very rarely - if ever - supported England in any sporting pursuit. Anyone they faced in any activity have always received my tacit backing, but this time, it's going to be different.

It'll be more of a whisper than a full-blooded chant admittedly, but it'll be nonetheless truly heartfelt.

Ahem. Come on England.