Southampton v Portsmouth - why it matters so much

Essentially, this is the basis of every single footballing rivalry (Manchester United and Liverpool fans from Surrey and Tokyo excepted).

So why exactly we get so het up about it, God only knows.

Despite the lack of logic and reason, there is no way on God’s green Earth that I dare entertain the possibility of the unthinkable happening at St Mary’s on February 13.

I don’t for one second buy this whole ‘Saints have nothing to lose’ rubbish simply because we’re two divisions below Portsmouth.

Bragging rights are too valuable a commodity.

Bizarely, until Pompey were promoted to the Premier League in 2003, I knew virtually nothing of them, let alone cared.

Since I got into football aged seven, because of Kevin Sheedy’s goal for Ireland against England in Italia ’90, we had only played the blue few in 1996, in the FA Cup.

It was such a stroll, it didn’t really measure on the Richter scale of a 13 year-old who was trying to figure out exactly how to speak to girls without my voice faltering by an octave or two.

But when Pompey went up, that all changed. Suddenly, it became very, very apparent exactly how much they detested us.

It was the sort of bitterness and ferocity the like of which I’d never experienced.

Hell, I was a Saints fan.

Everyone liked us because we embarrassed Alex Ferguson quite a lot. Hate? Us? Really?

Now, I didn’t go to either match at Fratton Park. The first I watched in a pub in Bath, and the second in a back street boozer in Freemantle.

I still can’t listen to “Is this the way to Amarillo” five years on. To be fair, I hated it because it was an awful and annoying song even before the Fratton End changed the lyrics. That just made a bad song even worse.

Less than a year later, though, I was living and working at the wrong end of the M27.

I hadn’t even been shacked up in North End for 12 hours before my car was trashed for daring to have a Saints tax disc holder. Welcome to Portsmouth, indeed.

I never had the balls to wear a Saints shirt outside – although occasionally you caught a glimpse of some red-and-white under someone’s jacket.

Brave, hardy souls!

Admittedly, it was a bad time to live there. We weren’t doing that well and Pompey were on a high and boy did they make sure I knew it.

Still, you made the most of it.

There are more Southampton missionaries down in Portsmouth than you’d imagine and meeting up and talking about Saints could almost be made to feel like some exciting, covert MI5 mission from Spooks.

Well it did after eight pints and a couple of shots, anyway.

I’ve still got some “Skate mates” as I affectionately refer to them down there. In fact, one of them is even up here now – I think he enjoys the clean air and job prospects!

It’s these people who mean we have to beat them at St Mary’s. Not the ones who did my car over – they’re just morons.

Not the ones who booed the minute silence for Ted Bates – there was about 10 of them and they probably wouldn’t know decorum if it slapped them in the face with a fish.

Most of them are just the same as us but in blue.

It’s all about bragging rights.

It’s about banter.

It’s about letting them know we’re top dog – and doing it with a smile.

A derby isn’t the enjoyable achievement – that’s just the start.

It’s years of enjoying teasing your mates, colleagues and even relatives that Saints are number one in the South once again. That’s what it’s about.

That’s why the cup draw ignited both cities.

I have to admit, it’s the tie I dreaded.

Yes, they’re pretty shocking at the moment, but even with the catalogue of problems (four lots of late wages, winding-up orders, the recently-lifted transfer embargo, massive debts, Sulamain Al Fahim, being sued by Sol Campbell, three scrapped stadium plans, David Nugent – just in case you’d forgotten), they are still a Premier League side.

Admittedly, that won’t be the case much longer, but still – more than 40 places separate us, so we can’t assume we’ll roll them over, even with home advantage.

Can we do it though? Hell yeah.

Let’s face it, bragging rights don’t come any better than turning over your biggest rivals despite them being way above you in the pyramid.

Throw in the fact the gate receipts from the derby match could well help keep them afloat, they’d have to be grateful to us for doing it!

Something tells me the gratitude may just stick in the craw a little.

Marian Pahars’ 2003/04 goal against Pompey still rates as my favourite ever Saints goal - not just because it was a great goal by a great player, but because it meant so much to him and stamped our then authority over them.

I hope I can add a Rickie Lambert, David Connolly or Paul Wotton strike to that list.

That is why rivalries are great.

That is why football is great.

That is why a Saints victory would be epic.