FOOTBALL fans, as a rule, are not much given to magnanimity.

Schadenfreude - a fancy term for gloating, not the legendary Bayern Munich goalkeeper - tends to be the natural order. Churlish, resentful, vitriolic; these adjectives all too often apply.

However, local rivalries are often intense, but they need not always be bitter. Take the case of Hearts stalwart Danny Stewart, a Tynecastle season ticket holder for 20 years, who, as The Herald reported yesterday, is to run the London Marathon wearing a Hibs strip in honour of a cousin who has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He is, or should be, an example to us all.

So as a Hibby, and typing through gritted teeth (which involves hitting the keyboard very hard to the extent that IT FEELS LIKE EVERYTHING SHOULD BE CAPITALISED) I am going to be magnanimous and congratulate Hearts on winning the SPFL Championship, even though it might have been a different story if Hibs hadn't taken nine points off Rangers this season.

Like Mr Stewart's, many Edinburgh families involve mixed marriages of green and maroon. My wife's kin are Jambos, and all joking aside, some of them are quite nice. My old dad was a Hibby, but my uncle was of the misguided persuasion, and my two male cousins divvied up their affections 50-50. Most of us will have a friend or a relative in the opposite camp.

It has, I admit, sometimes been difficult to maintain these relationships. The saga of 2012 and all that (google it if you must; you will hear no more from me) put a strain on the equilibrium. The school playground is, I'm told, a trying place for young Hibbies.

Hearts undeniably have the upper hand these days but, contrary to public opinion - listen up, kids - it was not always thus. In my formative years, during the 1960s and 70s, the boot was on the other, educated foot. There was the 1973 seven-nil game, and it seemed like Pat Stanton would pop up with a 97th-minute equaliser whenever he was needed.

In those days I went to every derby game with a Hearts-supporting friend; we would sit together in the centre stand of our respective grounds. Later, in the 1990s, a group of Hibs and Hearts fans who all drank in the venerable Edinburgh institution that is the Jinglin' Geordie pub would make a point of sharing taxis to the games, even through the run of 22 injustices in a row.

Happily, I still have Jambo friends, among them my esteemed colleague Robbie Dinwoodie, with whom it is possible to engage in cheery banter. Long may it continue. Even if they are jammy so-and-so's.