Sitting perched somewhere in the bowels of Wembley Arena over the past few days watching snooker balls roll around relentlessly for hours upon end at the game's traditional Masters tournament can leave the onlooker slightly detached from the outside world.
As a sport, snooker feels a bit like golf in that its main protagonists can live in a slightly artificial bubble, say very little of general interest and remain unaware of happenings away from the hushed environs in which they dwell.
The same can never be said of football. The same can never be said of Neil Lennon.
Lennon is manager of Celtic, a Glasgow club that remains one of British football's largest sporting concerns, despite being confined to the harsh financial wastelands of the Scottish Premier League.
All at once, Lennon is a thoughtful and thought-provoking figure. He is a man who curiously continues to be derided for no apparent reason other than his background as a Roman Catholic emanating from Northern Ireland. That he is manager of Celtic, a club of protruding Irish heritage, is like a red rag to a bull for some.
To those unaware of the intricacies that define life in and around the central belt of Scotland, that may sound ghastly. When scribbled down in black and white, it remains a gruesome reality. Lennon is the subject of fear and loathing in Glasgow.
Lennon is perhaps the only manager in British football who is able to overshadow a match because of his origins - because of who he is, and where he comes from.
The Swedish player, Freddie Ljungberg, made his debut for Celtic in the Glasgow side's 2-0 win over Berwick Rangers in the Scottish Cup last Sunday, but the "bullets in the post" fiasco swirling around Lennon was an infinitely darker plot to pore over.
The news that a County Antrim post office intercepted a suspicious package containing bullets before it winged its way to the Celtic manager and his compatriot Niall McGinn - Paddy McCourt was also sent bullets in a similar stunt, blocked by a Glasgow post office - was as depressing as it was predictable.
Having studied much of the literature surrounding Lennon over the years, nothing really shocks any more.
Northern Ireland's First Minister Peter Robinson commented that this was "vile sectarian behaviour". Sadly, Lennon has found such conduct commonplace in Scotland over the past decade, and not just on the occasional visit to Ibrox Stadium.
It would be inappropriate to defend Lennon's outbursts in berating match officials over the past few months, behaviour that wound up with the the Scottish Football Association doling out a six-match ban for what they feel is excessive conduct.
Having not been privy to what Lennon said to the referees, the SFA may well have been within their rights to punish Lennon according to their own guidelines on what is the proper conduct in which managers can indulge in.
His shenanigans at Hearts were unhelpful when referee Craig Thomson got the key decision rights, but Willie Collum's sub-standard performance in the 1-1 draw at Hamilton last night is unlikely to placate the Celtic manager as more conflict between his club and the SFA looms large on the horizon.
The SFA and Celtic must aim to resolve this festering quarrel, but Lennon is not the only figure who should enter into a period of reflection.
It is interesting to note that George Peat, an SFA president who jovially meandered into a press conference clutching a plastic dinosaur recently, has chosen to speak out on the issue. Peat's entries are unbefitting of a man in such a lofty position.
He should have been penalised for his well-aired and unnecessary comments about Chris Iwelumo's miss against Norway during the country's ill-fated World Cup qualifying campaign. In such a respect, Peat should realise that football people act hastily in the heat of the moment, especially when future job prospects depend upon it.
While the SFA remains a law unto itself, it only increases the need for the governing body to be altered from the top down.
These remain matters of debate within football. The lines that affect Lennon the manager and Lennon the man usually become blurred.
Lennon as a player and a manager has had to handle a level of bile that is abhorrent, and abuse of a nature that has nothing to do with his job title.
Football inflames passions, but some odious individuals continue to clamp themselves to the sport in the hope of earning some political currency. The characters who indulge in antics such as posting bullets need putting down.
While he obviously riles members from various communities back in his homeland, he quit playing for Northern Ireland in 2002 after receiving death threats from a paramilitary group, Lennon has never been lauded by Scottish society at large.
Lennon was booted up and down a street in Glasgow by a couple of unhinged men a couple of years ago, and left unconscious in the city's west end. He was fortunate he did not meet his maker that night. Disturbingly, one character apparently continued to make threats, even when he was caged for his actions.
It can be quite a bewildering experience to listen to some of the noisy phone-ins that infiltrate life in the west of Scotland. On a local radio station in Glasgow the other night, a woman professing to be a medic, but hardly deploying a Presbyterian outlook, said that Lennon's behaviour towards referees was comparable to a nurse in accident and emergency being abused by a drunk on a Saturday night. This was a ludicrous comparison to make.
In realising that true God-fearing people of any Christian denomination would not bother which such truck, it seems that Lennon is vilified for simply being Lennon. Being the Celtic manager seems to increase the bile that is spewed in his direction.
It is reassuring he is thick-skinned and accepts his role as a demonised figure, otherwise he would retreat to a darkened room and never again rear his head.
Before the horrid death of Tommy Burns to cancer in 2008, Lennon was brought back to Celtic in a coaching capacity when it became clear that the outstanding Burns was too ill to continue his coaching duties at the club. It was the first step on his road to the manager's job.
The former Celtic manager Gordon Strachan decided to call upon Lennon because the man from Lurgan is as passionate as they come. He is reliable and projects the right level of enthusiasm required to instil urgency in a football team.
In a football sense, Lennon is a bit like Burns. He is a redhead, fiery and a Celtic devotee, but while Burns was lauded in his latter years, Lennon seems to attract only derision. It is to this onlooker's eternal bafflement why he is not afforded common courtesy in Scotland.
In a throwback to days gone by, a bottle was also tossed at Celtic's team bus when it left Berwick. Yet we are supposed to live in enlightened times.
Lennon may or may not turn out to be successful in management. He is flawed, like all men, but he was a thoroughbred player, the type of figure most sides would love to have at the heart of their midfield. He should be appreciated for helping to raise the levels of Scotland's national sport.
The former Rangers captain John Greig and Billy McNeill of Celtic exemplified respect in walking shoulder to shoulder off the park at the recent Old Firm match moments after the two clubs paid a fitting minute's silence to those who lost their lives in the Ibrox disaster.
Unfortunately, such moments of moral obligation, and the covenant that binds together a decent society, does not last long these days.
Some people may be shocked to learn of Lennon being forwarded bullets, but Scotland cannot really criticise the crazies that continue to disturb Lennon when it has never clenched him to its bosom.
Neil Lennon may well deserve better treatment in Northern Ireland, but he has never been afforded proper treatment in Scotland.