Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi have cheapened the value of the stupefying ball-warping goal and improbable individual skills that I used to sporadically see in the world game.
My arsenal of superlatives has been bled dry and my eyes now have the consistency of sandpaper from continually rubbing them in disbelief.
How am I expected to remain gobsmacked time and time again when these blokes make the ludicrously sublime seem like a bland weekly procedure?
In Australia, where the local codes rule, these gold nuggets from the world game are the basic fuel that drives my interest in the sport, keeping its hands waving for attention among the crowded sporting horizon.
But these grandiose specialists have bizarrely numbed the small glimmer of hope that football has in competition for time and airspace with my colossal love of Aussie footy.
My appreciation of round-ball has come a long way from the days before internet and pay TV, when football was an hour of abbreviated highlights meshed in with some smooth articulation from Les Murray.
Cosmopolitan clubs, prima donna players, extravagant pay cheques and mind-blowing scenes of drama from the paddock have put the game firmly on my radar nowadays.
However, these majestic masters are making me blasé again.
Lionel just topped 60 goals in all competitions in Europe for this season, the first time this has been achieved in nearly 40 years. And he accelerated to this mark on a recent run of 23 goals in his last 12 games.
And as for Cristiano, I observed him reaching his own Spanish League record of 40 goals for the season this week after smacking in not one, but two of the finest long range collector’s specials you’ll see.
God forbid that for once he just knock one in off his shin, or jag one from a grubby deflection?
And can Lionel appear even slightly human by not gold-stamping just one match?
It’s like watching a David Copperfield DVD on repeat.
Give me a reality check. I need a drip of 0-0 draws stat.