This place does not have the monopoly on sporting myopia but there are times when it displays a lack of foresight that is enough to stop you dead in your tracks. There are valid excuses when it comes to explaining away a generation of under-achievement, most of which can be traced back to a lack of investment. But there is absolutely no justification for the pitifully poor vision of the future exhibited by those in positions of sporting authority.
The most recent example serves as a powerful totem for the multitude of poor strategic decisions that have gone before. Ten days ago, leaks emerged of what was touted as an ambitious plan to transform the fortunes of Ulster rugby.
The proposal went something like this. Ravenhill, the home provincial venue would be sold to a property developer who would, in turn, build a new state-of-the-art stadium for the Ulster branch in an out-of-town green-field site of its choosing. Everyone, so the spin went, would come out happy.
To its credit - and this may be its only positive selling point - this strategy does at least confront one truth about rugby here. The ground and facilities at Ravenhill are inadequate for the kind of level at which playing efforts on the field are being pitched. The primary problem is location. Ravenhill is a victim of historical circumstance in that what was originally an out-of-town site is now part of the sprawling suburbia of south Belfast.
It is situated at the end of a one-way, tree-lined residential road and, even with the modest crowds that rugby attracts, traffic control is a major and recurring difficulty. Last Friday night Swansea were at Ravenhill for the opening game of the Celtic League and cars were parked on side streets a mile and more away from the ground as spectators struggled to get close to the game.
As for the spectator facilities, the terracing and the shed-like stand are redolent of another era and no number of temporary beer tents and hospitality facilities can mask the basic problem.
Ravenhill, as it currently stands, is like a smaller Northern version of Lansdowne Road and thoughts of change make sound sense.
How, though, to do it?
The dangling carrot of a ready-made new stadium is one which appears initially attractive. Then you start asking some questions. What size will it be? Where will it be? When Ulster aren't playing who will use it?
Is it destined to be a concrete and steel shell devoid of atmosphere in the same way as so many of the stadia built for English football clubs who were enticed away from their natural homes by the same kind of attractive deals from the property money men?
Of course, the financial aspect is important and it would take a good argument to counter the provision of a debt-free new stadium with the possibility of some extra cash left over for good measure. The lumbering peace process has created something of an economic upturn and as big business has begun to rouse itself the pressure for development land, particularly in the Belfast area, has become intense.
In recent years, a number of city-based hockey and rugby clubs have cashed in the asset of their advantageous location and achieved financial security in the process.
Tempting as this scenario might appear, the counter-argument does exist and it is at times like this, times when change is in the air, that it should aired as loudly as possible and heard by as many people as possible.
The bottom line is that it is absolute lunacy for any single sporting body here - be that rugby, football or the GAA - to consider even for a moment going it alone in terms of building a new stadium.
The sums simply don't add up, but even if they did it is a total affront to common sense to imagine that, with a population of 1.5 million we could, in theory, have three 20,000 or 30,000 capacity stadia within shouting distance of each other.
Sheer madness.
The rugby people are not the only grouping to have gone down this road. The inadequacies of Windsor Park in terms of its suitability to stage international football matches are now taken as read and every now and again the notion that the Irish Football Association might also re-locate its home venue is mooted.
The position of the GAA is slightly different in that it has, for a variety of complicated reasons, ploughed its own furrow when it came to the provision of facilities. But it too sees nothing unduly strange in adopting a rigorously isolationist policy and going ahead with redevelopment of its grounds at Casement Park and Clones.
Each of these organisations has little difficulty in explaining and standing by the rationale of what it is attempting to do and more often than not it comes down to the harsh realities of the balance sheet. Investing for the future is the buzz phrase and a sentiment like that tends to be met with blanket approval.
This cosy consensus is buttressed by the absence of anything resembling strong, centralized guidance when it comes to formulating policy. Again, the North is not unique in experiencing this leadership deficit as the on-going debacle surrounding the redevelopment of Wembley Stadium shows. But the fact remains that there is no one person or group to stand up and sell the benefits of a single, multi-use facility.
If anything, the need for that is even more acute here because there is so much in Northern society that militates against any moves towards unity - sporting or otherwise.
Some form of national stadium would represent a powerful statement, one that says co-operation is possible with the requisite desire and determination. It might be stretching the metaphor too far to suggest that the entire venture might also show what is possible on a wider political level but it is the small symbols that often shout the loudest.
If much of this has echoes of the debate a few hours down the road surrounding Bertie Ahern's national stadium plans then so much the better. These are discussions which it is much healthier to air than hide away in the stultifying confines of development sub-committees. We should be talking about what we expect not only from our sporting stadia but also from our sports themselves.
For too long the argumentative high-ground has been occupied by the money men and the property developers with the connections. That has allowed a state of mind to develop which holds that profit is the beginning, middle and end of any discussion about our sporting future.
That is the mindset that drives the sort of disastrously ill-conceived plans that sees the erection of soulless new venues that remain unused and unloved for all but a dozen days a year and resemble nothing more than huge, well-equipped parking lots.
In the heady days of the new power-sharing arrangements that followed the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, a new national stadium for the North was one of the flagship projects that was talked-up with wide-eyed optimism. Much of that has been pushed to the background by the lack of progress elsewhere and the Ravenhill project is an indication that the old ways of thinking have returned to fill the vacuum.
It's time to reclaim that lost ground.
