On Rugby: On the Saturday before Christmas, Leinster's typically rollercoaster defeat in Bourgoin was being shown on a big screen in a corner of Thomond Park prior to Munster's home tie with the Dragons.

When Gordon D'Arcy scored to put Leinster temporarily in front, there wasn't a ripple among the couple of thousand already in situ. It hardly registered. Either everyone was uninterested or, as it seemed, all eyes were focused on the Munster players doing their warm-up.

Somehow, if the tables were reversed, and a Munster European Cup tie were being shown on a big screen in the corner of Donnybrook or the RDS prior to a Leinster match, one imagines the crowd would not be so uninterested.

Perhaps it is because this writer hails from Dublin, but the impression has always been that Leinster fans, in general, have been more supportive of their Munster brethren. Which is not to say that Munster supporters don't return that support, as anyone who attended pre-match get-togethers in Bective Rangers and other watering holes in D4 last Saturday week will testify.

Of course, in the last seven seasons Munster's exploits have generated more to cheer about. So many epic wins (The Miracle Match, Toulouse in Bordeaux, Leicester in Welford Road, Sale last January). So many heart-rending near misses. You'd want to be blinkered, biased or have a heart of stone not to be moved by them. Yet possibly the reaction to D'Arcy's try demonstrated that Munster supporters are also a little bit more devoted and one-eyed. Fittingly, the close proximity of Thomond's perimeter walls heightens the sense of intimacy.

It's also been well documented that the Munster players are playing for their parish, neighbours and families, and can scarcely walk down their local streets without being recognised, whereas Leinster players have traditionally retained far more anonymity.

As much as anything else, what is so intriguing about The Match is the clash in cultures and playing styles. A greater degree of hostility exists toward teams from capital cities in most sports and most countries. We also know that in Limerick especially rugby took hold in the garrison town more so than it did in any other city.

On top of which, as a reading of Alan English's Stand Up and Fight forcibly underlines, Munster and especially Limerick rugby harboured grudges over many a perceived selectorial bias emanating from 62 Lansdowne Road. And they had good reason to. These grudges fostered the collective motivation of the Munster clubs with the arrival of the AIL in 1990. Nothing before had prepared us, and especially the Dublin clubs, for the culture clash that was about to hit them.

Suffice to say, in all my travels with Leinster clubs this D4 boy of a delicate constitution can't recall anyone taking out crubeens (pigs' feet) for their delectation.

The Garryowen invasion of Lansdowne Road for their opening day win over Wanderers, then Leinster Senior League and Cup holders, remains a seismic day. That Wanderers had been installed as favourites merely underlined how blissfully ignorant and unprepared some of us were for the decade-long Munster hegemony which was about to unfold and make the Leinster clubs look like faded aristocracy or penniless landed gentry.

It in turn fostered the emergence of Munster as the dominant provincial force at the turn of the millennium; and in a sense, those AIL culture clashes of the early 90s were a microcosm of what is about to hit Lansdowne Road on Sunday week.

Ironically, the caricatures are stronger now than ever. You think of Risteard Cooper's definitive Munster fan, for whom every player in red is "a legend", set against the Ross O'Carroll-Kelly type who never misses a match, but just can't remember who is actually playing.

But in truth it comes at a time when the distinctions have become more blurred. Leinster's Blue Army in Toulouse drew its support from all over the province. Their loyal, non-affiliated band of season ticket holders have first call on the much cherished tickets, and the bond between players and supporters is stronger than ever after their combined exploits in Toulouse.

One observant ERC employee recalls hearing countless songs being struck up by pockets of Leinster supporters the night before the game, only to fade away, whereupon, come kick-off the songs were being completed. It was as if they suddenly found an identity, he reckoned, and it should be recalled that the Red Army found its identity in Bordeaux for their semi-final win over Toulouse six seasons ago. Now, if the branch can be progressive and reach out to the province, while improving training and spectator facilities, Leinster have the opportunity to become Ireland's Stade Toulousain.

Nothing breeds support, of course, quite like success, which has also engendered some envy in Leinster, even if mutual admiration and friendly fire co-exists happily. Witness the email doing the rounds that Leinster are sending back some of their allocation because there will be a half-price sale in Brown Thomas that day. Some of the others, alas, are a bit nastier, but there's no doubt that among the core support, a level of animosity has built up over the years and this semi-final might only heighten that.

For some, there could be no worse team or, more pertinently, supporters to lose to. Bragging rights for years to come, and perhaps a date with destiny, although for all the idle talk of the "certainty" of an Irish win in the final, Biarritz's performance in beating Toulouse last Saturday was a reminder that the decider, too, will be pretty much a 50-50 cup-tie "on the day".

But Sunday week is going to be seismic. And then there's the match itself.