Really, if you bleed red and white and you want a good football day out, Everton away is definitely one to steer well clear of. OK, so Liverpool as a city full of great, proper pubs (and plenty of those alcopop palaces if you like that kind of thing) and generally friendly, talkative, locals (and gobshite scallys if you like that sort of thing), but Goodison Park has been a bit of a wasteland as far as performances and results go. Since the precocious talent of Michael Bridges scuppered them back in late 1996 (scoring twice from the bench after replacing Russ, who had scored the first), our only win there has been in our only ever League Cup tie against the Toffees – that Sorenson master class in the penalty shootout after the 1-1 draw back in November 1998. Bridges again scored, and Scott, Smith, Quinn, Johnston and Clark scored from the spot and Makin didn’t.

Since then, it’s been pretty miserable fare, with bright spots few and far between. Don Hutchison scoring his last goal, in his last game before chasing the West Ham dollar, also managed to get sent off as we drew 2-2 at the end of 2000-2001 season. Two goals from SKP, but it was the beginning of the end of the Reid era. There was another 2-2 draw, in April 2006, which was remarkable for Jon Stead scoring his first Sunderland goal. Of two. In forty games. Incidentally, Joe Murphy was sub keeper that day, and he performed well for Scunthorpe on Sunday against Man City – alongside Cliff Byrne. (Apologies if you have no interest in ex-Sunderland players who got no further than the reserves, but I notice this sort of nonsense). Still with the Cup, Rory Delap, victorious over Arsenal at the weekend (alongside Collins, Higgi, Sorenson, Whitehead, and sub Lawrence – oops, there I go again), scored his only Sunderland goal that day, and hit the post. He looked a more than decent signing. Funny old game, football.

Take those away, and you’ve got 0-5, 0-1, 1-2, 0-3 (FA Cup), 1-7, and 0-3. Pretty rotten reading, and going in to today’s game there hasn’t been much to suggest that we’re about to change things. Being realistic, and having a dig back at those who want Brue out, let’s look at another member of the ginger-haired, broken-nosed, ex-centre-half club. Alex McLeish is currently steering Brum on the best run of their lives. Why? He’s been able to name an unchanged team for about three months. Players know where their marras are, they know how their marras like the ball delivered, and what their marras are likely to do with the ball. I know that highly paid footballers should be able to adapt to different team-mates, but the fact is that whether it’s Brazil at Sao Paolo or the Bittermen at Snod’s Edge, it helps if you can keep the same team. Fact is, Brucie has had stinking luck with injuries, particularly to defenders. No sooner do they get fit or return from suspension than they snap something else.

Being a lazy bugger, and still missing a few hours kip from Saturday’s marathon – despite being back in the house at half eleven thanks to some top-notch driving by Lee’s Coaches finest – I took the day off for a lie in. All of that went up the spout when our lass slept in (waiting for my alarm to go off) so I was up only an hour later than normal. Well, it gave me the chance to look up some nonsense about our lack of success in the blue half of Scouseland. Actually, when stretched over the 120 years we’ve been knocking our heads together, it’s about even. Played 166, won 66, drawn 27, lost 73.

Not counting the latest, of course. Make that 74. I’d managed a couple of pints in town with Rob the Mag, listening to the professional Scousers (you know, 60ish, mad, wiry grey hair, badly fitting teeth) use the words Jesus and dynamite in the same sentence, and catching up on families and ex-wives before joining the other 602 visitors. That’s a number that should be worrying the club, as we’re in danger of losing the famous repetitive sell-outs at away games. Perhaps we’ve juts had enough.

Gordon
Mensah Killa Noz McCartney
Hendo Cana Catts Zenden
Richardson
Bent

Well, at least that’s what it looked like. By the time Brucie had seen enough, Fellaini’s floated cross from the left was flicked in by Cahill (who else?) and Donovan had taken advantage of hesitancy to put in the second with a crisp shot along the deck. Two early goals, and on came Ken with only twenty gone, presumably with the words “that’s how shit you look when you can’t be arsed” ringing in his ears. Maybe sacrificing Richardson was Brucie’s way of emphasising what a lack of effort looked like. Baines seemed to have acres of space to attack Mensah, and Everton rightly relaxed and let the ball do the work as we chased about like mad things. Cana needed to be at his diplomatic best to keep Catts out of the book on three occasions. Right on half time, Jones almost got a decent touch on a ball that Distin missed, but that was it for our first half attempts, despite a couple of corners.

Catts made it to the end of the tunnel for the second half, then thought better of it and sat down, so Reid took the left side with Zenden moving to a more central position. McCartney did well to clear off the line, and Mensah put in a tremendous tackle on Saha in the box, but it wasn’t all Everton in the second half as well actually knocked it about a bit. Having said that, we still couldn’t get a shot in. Noz was replaced by Da Silva on the hour, and we then engineered a spot of pressure around 73 minutes, forcing several corners, and Reid got our first proper shot on target – but it was easy for Howard. When Jones fired well wide, the homes fans chanted “Rafa, Rafa, sign him on” which was a bit unfair. In the last five minutes we forced more corners and put in more crosses, and should really have got the vital touch on one of them. Zenden actually forced a good save out of Howard for another corner, Everton pushed forward as four added were announced, then it was over, the Diddymen sang about knowing yer hiss-tery, and we stamped our feet to warm up and headed off into a couple of hours of road works on the M62.

In truth, there seemed to plenty of effort from most parts of the pitch. Henderson and Catts buzzed in the first half, if to little effect, and Zenden tried to organise and encourage. Killa put in a decent performance but had better get used to three different partners every week (except when it’s his turn to be injured or suspended). Bent can’t be relied on to be our (near) saviour every week, and he must be wondering if all that summer twittering was worth the effort.

Man of the Match? Zenden, as he at least posed a bit of a threat and some of the crowd seemed to have decided that he’s the best thing since sliced bread – meaning they’ve thought of a song for him.

Keep the faith

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