Wigan 1 v 6 Everton                              Sat. 7th Aug 2001

Att: 9,559

Everton : Gerrard, Gravesen, Weir, Stubbs, Unsworth, Pistone, Alexandersson, Gemmill, Pembridge, Ferguson, Campbell.

Subs: Simonsen ,Moore, Clarke, Tal, Cleland, Hibbert, Chadwick, Cadamarteri .

Scorers: Campbell 3, Stubbs, Ferguson, Alexandersson.

WIGAN WOOLS 1 BLUEBELLIES 6: THE ROAD TO, ERM, WIGAN JJB STADIUM
by
Mickey Blue Eyes.

I chaired a meeting in the afternoon, total attendance fourteen. I was bored shitless. All chairmen are bored because they know everything and the other participants are just there to discuss what the chairman already knows. A fact never better emphasised than by one of the great Abraham Lincoln yarns: He was chairing a cabinet meeting and called for a vote….."All those in favour, say Aye"…..and the entire cabinet raised hands and said, "Aye!"

Then he said, "All those against, say Nay"….and he raised his hand, solo, and said, "Nay!" and then said, "The Nays have it." Haha. Just LURV that true story. Yank democracy in action. Shortly after, Abe decided to go to the theatre.

So I watched the rain sluice against the windows in sheets and wished I was anywhere, even, erm, Wigan. Listening to the "arguments" around the table was akin to watching grass grow in Wally Hall Park. And surely Wigan has improved since Orwell gave it such a wretched name? Eventually I got my wish and set off through yet another horizontal monsoon.

Yes, Wigan has improved. Greatly. The air was crystal clear and mercifully free of city centre pollution. Lots of good new buildings and flush landscape. Even Paul's wickedly bad directions, and he lives there fer chrissakes, couldn't detract from the good impression. The A571 from the East Lancs Road is now a beautiful rout, lovingly tended. I enjoyed it muchly and finally ended up in The Red Robin, wherein many Bluebellies quaffed liberally and heartily from plazzy glasses. Oh well. You can't have everything. Those who jeer at the Pinkies for not having many home grown Scouse fans should have heard this lot, mostly pure Wool accents and decked out in everything our Bluebelly Megastore could get manufactured by occidental or Asian sweat shop labour. Me, I revel in the variety of people. Get too incestuous and you end up saying nonsense like, "Some people say the game's a matter of life and death but it's more important than that." Bollocks. It's a game, a hobby, not a Nuremberg rally.

So, a short walk from the pub to the JJB Stadium. Unfortunate name, that, because it's named after Dave Whelan's sports company. And of course he is the owner of almost anything which moves in strictly small-town Wigan. A man of true taste would have passed up the opportunity and left the Wools with some semblance of local pride. Maybe Dave's still jaundiced by the awful leg break he suffered playing for Blackburn in the 196? Cup Final against Wolves, which they lost 3-0. But he's not on his own. Generosity of spirit is in short supply in footy in these dark sponsored days.

Actually it isn't a bad little stadium at all. Pity they only had limited turnstiles open and had to delay the kick-off to 8 o'clock as a result, thick bastards. But there's lots of circulation room and the external appearance, though quite simple, has small scale appeal….could do with more colour though. Much more of this wrinkly grey tin sheet cladding on new stadia and I'm gonna have the designers tortured and then executed by stabbing them with their own sketch pencils.

Doubtless the rain played its part in keeping the attendance down, though it certainly didn't restrict Bluebelly numbers. Yet again, we appeared to have half the total attendance and occupied one full stand the length of the touchline opposite the main stand. The gate looked to be about ten thousand to me.

Paul was back in goal, Radzinski out, The Yin in, otherwise the same first half team from Saturday. The rain intensified throughout the first half, which is more than you can say for our play. Wigan were enthusiastic and strong, but not good….and STILL made us look complete and utter coprolite. If these fixtures mattered at all it would have been downright embarrassing. How our fans kept their patience was beyond me. I glared balefully at the mess in the forlorn hope that I could affect the flow. Huh. Muted curses were deluged by the rain.

The only conundrum was how the Wools didn't score more than their well deserved tenth minute effort, a result of appallingly lazy marking at left defence, which let in a right winger to cross…..which travelled undisturbed right across the penalty box….and duly got smacked in at the far side of the goal area. Personally, I felt like smacking a few Bluebelly heads meself. Our only relief was a sharp move through the middle which ended with Pembo rocketing a low one from left side penalty arc and it missed by a whisker. Apart from that it was all Wool.

Gravesen played outside right and Nic played sort of in-the-rightside-hole-behind-whoever-was-in-front-of-him. SuperKev-Yin played right on top of each other again but got no change anyway out of their two centre backs, both of whom had an excellent first half.

Then just before half time we got an unexpected and quite undeserved equaliser when SuperKev's persistence finally paid off and their defence lost concentration at a crucial moment.

The rain faded to almost nothing in the second half and so did the Wools. Three defensive errors gifted more goals to SuperKev (2 more) and Nic, and both The Yin and Stubbsy battered headers home as they fell completely to pieces. Could have been more, too. It was as complete a turnaround as you can imagine. Poor Wigan, they looked completely demoralised by the end.

Well, let's be charitable and say we held back in the first half because of the conditions and possible risk of injury. All of which I hope is true. Because if it isn't, and we play in league competition like our first half, then it's us who'll get slaughtered and no mistake.

Saturday, cider country calls, so does Hereford. Which reminds me of a Geordie friend of mine who was present at their famous FA Cup exit at the hands of then non-league Hereford in the seventies. Ever since, every time he passes through or near said venue he winds a window down and shouts, "Fuck OFF!" and means it, really means it.

Funny, first half at Wigan…..and that's what I felt like shouting at all of our players. But I didn't because I am an Evertonian. So I bit my bottom lip, had a Bovril and a pie, and then went back to The Red Robin with the rest of the reprobates, all of whom wore huge grins.

Footy fans, dontcha just LUV 'em?