I DON’T know if it’s a genetic predisposition, something that we inherit when we’re chosen Blue, but I can’t think of a single Evertonian that goes into one of these games confident of a win.

The quirks of the Premier League fixture list and the lottery of the FA Cup draw has ensured that the noble half of the city is pitched into battle with its more uncouth younger cousin for the second time in less than a week.

Had we laid waste at Anfield on Monday night – and we had the chance – my natural reaction would have been to expect an avenging defeat of biblical proportions on Sunday.

On the other hand, had they turned us over then we all know we’d have turned up already beaten for the cup game.

As it is, the chaps did the worst thing possible and gave us a glimmer hope.

For the first time in far too long, we went to Anfield and more than matched Liverpool – the best bit being when we left it so horribly late before delivering the levelling blow.

A fraction of what we’ve had exacted upon us throughout derby history, and all the sweeter for it.

Let’s not kid ourselves, on paper we’re on a hiding to very little.