Everton 1 v 1 Spurs                                          Sat 19th Jan 2002

Report from last season's game                                                                    Att: 36,056

Everton: Simonsen, Hibbert, Naysmith, Weir, Unsworth, Stubbs, Alexandersson, Gascoigne, Gemmill, Campbell, Ferguson.

Bench: Gerrard, Tal, Moore, Clarke, Chadwick.

Subs: Clarke for Alexandersson (60m), Moore for Gascoigne (82m).

Scorer: Weir.

The only change from last week was Big Dunc for Jesper, who had gone down with an ankle injury in training. The sooner we get out of Bellfield the better. What happens in there? It must be like the Bates Motel.

Half -Time 1-1

Full - Time 1-1

Quotes

Scott Gemmill says: “I thought it was a penalty, but Darren Anderton didn’t and he said a few things to me afterwards, but I was pushed and we should have had a penalty. The first five decisions of the day went in their favour and three of them were debatable, so the referee set his standards early on.”

Walter says: "There have been a few away games where we have played better and lost, so I am quite pleased with a point because we did not play as well as we can play. We have a small squad and we've got a few injuries, so this is a good result, and the fact we restricted them to few chances apart from at set plays is a credit to our players. League games are like cup ties this season because a lot more teams are involved in the relegation battle than in previous seasons. You need a strong mentality to handle games, and I don't think we lack spirit or determination."

Sausage says: I'd love a 50-50 with Taricco.

Lard says: You wouldn't win a 50-50 with yer tart.

Davie Weir says: “I don’t score goals like that very often,” he laughed. “But no matter how they go in it’s always nice. You don’t have too much time to think but when you see the ball and you’re in the penalty area you always have a strike and luckily it went in.”

On Davie Weir's Humdinger of a goal, Walter says: “That was an important factor because when you lose an early goal, you have to hit back and we managed to get a terrific goal from Davie Weir. In the end we were pushed back by Tottenham and we had to defend well but there were few clear cut opportunities for either side. When they did get through, Steve Simonsen was up to anything that was put his way. I’m delighted for the boys after they worked so hard to get the point.”

A man who is tired of Lahndan has admirable taste.
It coincides exactly with my own.
by
Mickey Blue Eyes.

Sunday brought gossip that Becks had been given a take it or leave it offer of £85,000 per week by Manchester United. I have no idea whether or not this is authentic news since it appears to have originated in newspapers. As we all know, 99% of the stuff they print is unadulterated shite.

But if true, my GOD, miss Jones! What an awful incompetent organisation the Mancs must be to allow things to get to this state. Aaargh, how COULD they?! And as for Ellis/Gregory at Villa, Ridsdale/O'Leary at Leeds, Reidy at Sunderland, Roeder at the Yammers, Bates/Ranieri at Tinseltown, Bassett at Licorice Allsorts City, Allardyce at Bolton, Pinocchio/Frog/Parry at the pinkies etc. etc…………………I reckon the whole game's going to the dogs. It seems EVERY club's a lousy organisation which hasn't a clue what to do next. Where's it all going to end? That's what I want to know, where?

Well, probably with the game being run by a bunch of Suits who can put together a good set of accounts, "market" and "brand" 'till it comes out their ears, charge you more to get in, and then pay themselves a tidy little sum for ripping the game off. Except by then the game won't be worth having since it will be as antiseptic as everything else in these days of the end of history. We're already a loooong way down that road. That is, footy is secondary to something called "business" and the bureaucrats who run it. Thus demonstrating that bureaucracy is related directly to the size of an organisation, not whether it is "private" (read: your money loaned out by the banks) or publicly owned.

But every now and then something comes along which makes you realise The Beautiful Game is spontaneously alive and well and still living in the hearts of a few good men. Monday morning provided such an example when Radio Five carried a wonderful item about footy in the Scilly Isles.

Sit down, you'll love this one.

Apparently there are only two organised teams there. They play in a league and have two cup competitions…………presumably a FA Cup and a League Cup. The fixtures secretary must be running in circles trying to get things right. Me, if I ever decided to tell the Suits to shove it (and it really wouldn't take much right now), I'd end up watching Scilly Sunday morning footy in the park. In the end the game still belongs to the people and their better instincts. And if that's where I had to go to restore my faith in the game then I'd fuck the Suits, the Melledrew Tendency and the media right off and wouldn't look back. Long live the Scilly Isles and all who sail in her.

Further demonstration of madness in the game arrived on Tuesday when Derby fired Colin Todd after ninety-eight days in charge. Hardly anybody batted an eyelid. The lunatics are in charge of the asylum. Now, Derby are just about the worst team I have seen this season, including us, Middlesborough, Sunderland and Southampton. But how in the name of a rabbit's chuff can anyone say Colin Todd is to blame? It matters not of course because corporate Suits, the Tendency and mainstream media have encouraged the game to become a vehicle for hatred at almost every level. Each of them are all too ready to encourage the worst of human nature, usually reinforced by an equal readiness to tell you who they hate among managers, players or owners. The cancer grows almost daily. Colin Todd was merely the latest symptom.

An honourable exception appeared the same day in the Independent newspaper in an article written by James Lawton, a sports journalist I admire. Unlike time-serving twerps such as Victor Melledrew at the Post, James can turn a phrase or two and make a potent point at the same time. His piece was entitled, "Jones and Wright embody sickness of the celebrity game." He was referring to Vinny Jones and Ian Wright. I agreed with every word of it. You get the picture from the following phrases:

"Jones's demeanour, Channel 4 surely cannot have forgotten, was relentlessly thuggish."

"We really shouldn't pussyfoot here. If football had been properly run at the time of their worst excesses, Jones and Wright would have been drummed out of the game."

The difference with deadbeats like Victor Melledrew could hardly be more stark. Where the Melledrews of this world attack the symptoms surrounding the celebrity game ("Magic Johnson" and similar muck), Lawton attacks the celebrity game itself. And by so doing he attacks the no-marks who help perpetrate it. That is, the Victor Melledrews and accompanying slugs. Nice one, James. I might even buy the Independent occasionally just to read your prose.

Wednesday brought TV pictures of A Few Good Men outside Bootham Crescent with plastic collection buckets trying to help save York City. People like that are the genuine gold lode of the game, the doers, the committed fans, the ones who are willing to get involved where it matters and where it hurts. I hope fervently York manage to avoid the knacker's yard and get back on their feet the way Charlton and Brighton did after being ripped off by the worst kind of Suits. The odds are against it………but aren't they the best type of odds to contend with?

At the same time, glory be, Jock footy announced consideration of something I have been urging for years in the English, nay international game: Creation of their own TV channel. Use your common sense when considering this. What it means ultimately is that much more money stays within the game and all the leeches get fucked off pronto. And if "intellectual property rights" (I love that one. It's another steal from Ayn Rand) are properly applied it means…………………REDUNDANCY FOR THE EXISTING MEDIA VICTOR MELLEDREWS! Oh, okay, I exaggerate with the latter flight of fancy but you can see what I mean.

[REALITY CHECK: During the week American Uniforms and Suits drugged and kidnapped alleged Taliban and Al-Quaieda leaders and flew them to a grubby rented corner of Cuba in breach of all recognised international laws. They might well deploy the same methods taught at the School of the Americas. If you didn't know, this is the place where various compliant Central and South American nazis are shown how to murder and torture anyone in their populations foolish enough to believe they can take charge of their own lives and use their own resources for their own people by booting out thieving USA/European corporations.

The Americans thereby fall in line with Saddam Hussein's hostage-taking during the occupation of Kuwait, something of which I have close up and personal experience. Needless to say, the Chief Messenger Boy in Downing Street nodded his head as ordered by Wasington and ignored his democratic legal training. You know, the one which says justice should be delivered in a legal trial by one's peers and not by a military junta, the kind of justice we keep saying is, er, superior to everyone else's. You know, unlike those set up by Hitler, Stalin, and all the Central and South American loonies who were trained at the School of the Americas. Poor America, manifest national security state on the road to hell.

In an almost exquisitely stupid piece of dealing the Americans invited the Red Cross to visit the site, thereby insulting every Muslim around the world who figured the Red Crescent might have been more appropriate. But you can't expect Uniform and Suit Narrow Foreheads to understand that while they're trying to keep their knuckles from scraping the ground.

Meantime, a bit more of your NHS was flogged off to "private management" by bought-and-paid-for Health Secretary Milburn. For those who don't know, this is called the "salami technique." So called because they thinly slice off a little at a time, in the full knowledge that if they went to the public with their full intentions they would be dumped promptly in the dustbin of history. And then the first few patients were sent to France for treatment in a ripoff private hospital. Watch the numbers gradually creep up to get you used to the idea. All the while, the media will accompany the move with propaganda about "better" care in the ripoff private sector. Then get ready to sell your house to pay for large medical bills, a la the USA. That's the target and it is well in view. The private "healthcare" bagmen want to scam the £20 billion a year Brit health system just as the Suits want to rip off the pension scheme you have paid into for most of your life. You ignore this at the peril of the wellbeing of you and your family.

Then the local lowlife Echo demonstrated perfectly how the Ministry of Truth operates. First they carried the (minimal) story of (substantial) job losses at the Marconi Wavertree site. Then they carried a front page preposterous coil of turds about "50,000 jobs for Liverpool," the biggest load of lying bollocks since their last zillionth unrealised claim about alleged thousands of incoming jobs. Turned out at least 40,000 of the alleged "jobs" were in construction, an industry so rotten with casual employment it can hardly function properly when there is a boom. Then they carried another (minimal) story of (substantial) job losses at the brand new Jaguar factory at Halewood. See, the men have now been used by Ford to set up the plant and the production line. Now it is a matter of pushing them and their families aside. It will probably just be a matter of time before the manufacturing process is transferred elsewhere and the factory closed for good and thousands made redundant. This will be a good deal easier since the plant no longer produces popular low-price volume cars……………which was always Ford's intention anyway. No wonder people absolutely loathe the Echo and its infoclerks when it shows such contempt for everyone's common sense. It has got to the point where any infoclerk who works for it is almost automatically cast as a liar. Which is fair enough considering the damage done by the rag's lies in the past.

Footy? Important? Are you KIDDING?!

Midweek, a sublime footy moment when Zola scored a superb goal for Chelsea V Norwich in an FA Cup match, a near post airborne inside-of-the-right-foot flick from a right side corner. That's what we watch footy for, not to hear hate-filled dimwits argue over the latest name to call Bill Kenwright, a set of accounts or imagined details of our move to the Kings Dock. It wouldn't be surprising to hear such inadequate loonies hate themselves, their city and their country too. Nihilists are all the same and to be dismissed accordingly from the company of civilised men.

As the days progressed, more ACTUAL detail began to emerge about the proposed development and its finances, all of which satisfactorily topples dominos one by one. As the EfKD Group have always said: It will be a long and rocky road to final clinching of the scheme, not least because there are always people ready to be destructive. Had English Partnerships, the government and Liverpool Vision been open from the start (as we urged) they would not have attracted one tenth of one percent of the dubious criticism or phony, poisonous scepticism from people of ill-will, at least not for any significant period of time. EfKD warned of this in all our early communications and discussions.

As matters stand it has been open-house for all kinds of oddballs to argue irrelevant nonsense based on no real knowledge of the situation at Kings Dock or in our city. Some of them would argue the colour of shite. It is their free choice. It is of course also the difference between an organised group of fans who want our club to succeed and who understand how real power works…………and on the other hand a collection of uninformed, venomous tin drummers trying to stop the project for whatever reasons. 'Twas ever thus, ever part of life. But genuine Evertonians will know instinctively which is the most constructive position. Let's get it built and look forward to a boost for a better future for our club and our city. Let the tin drummers rattle away ad infinitum on an empty shore at midnight during an ebb tide. It is the only kind of audience they deserve.

Fact is, if the proposal falls it won't be because Everton Football Club didn't properly complete their agreed role. Our club have done everything asked of them and more. So if it doesn't happen it will be because the rest of the parties in the consortium (a controlling 51% of local/national government if you have forgotten) have not done their part as promised. But don't think that would stop the Melledrew Tendency from kicking the club while it is on the floor, or banging their tin drums in the school yard, all in an attempt to exacerbate an ensuing PR disaster. Which is rightly why they are beneath contempt. There is still a long, long way to go to clinch the project. If and when we make it, it will be accomplished without the Tendency. And that will be a victory for construction over destruction. Which will be very nice. Anyone can demolish a building, just as anyone can jeer at or criticise someone else's creative efforts…………but it takes talent to design and build, to create. That's the real difference.

Friday, and down came the news of the latest Suit attempt to get Celtic and Rangers on the English gravy train. Somebody called Harris said they would be welcome in the Worthless Cup. Here's one fan who wouldn't cross the road to see either of the Old Firm in such circumstances. To hell with them and their superstitious religious sects and crazy witchdoctors, the ones who threaten the rest of us with the same fire. Don't expect this issue to go away. First we had the Joining-Of-The-Scab League, then The Atlantic League, then The Phoenix League, and now this variation on an old theme. You can almost feel the greed radiating out of Ibrox and Celtic Park. Personally I would force them into the Scilly Isles League and tell them to get on with it. But then there'd probably be a breakaway Scilly Premier League consisting of, er, Rangers and Celtic………………Suits (like rust) never sleep(s).

Match day arrived with me nursing a very bad headache. Dunno why. Even the bright and clear morning couldn't clear it. The weather was the precise opposite of the forecast, which was that the wind would blow as hard as the Melledrew Tendency. Naturally it was a beautiful if slightly chilly day. True Evertonian weather, optimistic. Everybody was up for it after the evaporation of Christmas and New Year lunacy. Once again nobody figured we would lose. Me, I thought a draw or a win, mostly because we had SuperKev back. Apparently The Yin was due to play too, which meant they'd HAVE to have at least one man on each, thus giving us a slight spatial start. Well, we all cling to straws at difficult times and I am no exception. Hope is the mother of all things human.

The Bus is now driven by a razor keen Evertonian who wants to get us there and help out with everything. What a difference this makes to some of the others we've had. Various Blue Belly videos were shown during the trip and that got the singing going at appropriately nostalgic moments. And our driver managed something we thought impossible: He dropped us virtually at the door of the Antwerp Arms, a ten minute walk from the ground. How he got through the narrow streets is beyond my geometry. Then again, I have always preferred people, their society and their buildings to the internal combustion engine and its tin can envelope.

We piled into the pub, bought the beer and occupied our various sites around the place. Not a bad venue at all, good service, pleasant staff and acceptably clean. But oh so small. Before long it had filled to capacity and the manager allowed us out onto the pavement to quaff without inhaling clouds of burnt tobacco. Gradually the affects of a five hour journey began to wear off as conversation picked up and strongly opposite opinions got voiced. As usual it was magical. People always are when they're at their best. Which is why I have never ever wished to be part of the cold separation of suburban life or to be a permanent expat with reactionary views on life in Blighty. I have done both and they now make me shudder, as they should. Give me the warmth of humanity and home any day. Ensuing problems are there to be dealt with, not absconded from. Sooner or later the penny will drop society-wide that you can't buy peace of mind and you can't guarantee it with a burglar alarm or baton-happy police.

Outside on the pavement, we were eventually joined by Mark and his boss (a Spurs fan), the Squire, cockney toffee and Ian. By which time there were queues to get into the pub. Inevitably this drew the bizzies and a hurry-up cart to the street. Nice to report though that they weren't needed and after they squeezed their way into and out of the pub they seemed content to leave us alone. This conjured uncomfortable visions of the early days of the Third Reich and how it gradually became acceptable. It was the first of two jarring notes to the day.

The ten minute walk to the ground took us through the usual chewing gum splodged pavements and fast food litter of a poverty-stricken area. The stadium loomed unlovely, grey, and unexceptional except in its internal solution. See, the problem with almost all of these new stadia is that they lack quirkiness, for want of a better word. White Hart Lane was always The Shelf. For all the cleverness of the site design solution the only quirky thing in the place is the high level big screens. You could be anywhere. It has all the genuine warmth and humour of a Suit or a member of the Tendency, which is to say none at all. We were seated in the back row of the lower tier. A glazed screen separated us from an empty restaurant with beautifully set tables. The blinds were quickly drawn. Said it all, really.

Tony Hibbert kept his place at right back and that delighted me no end. Smiffy is persevering with him, a gamble he might not have been prepared to take if Stevie wasn't injured. SuperKev and The Yin up front, Davey-Stubbsy centre backs, midfield of Nic, Gemmo, Gazza and Gary. Unsy the other full back. Simo still in goal, as he should be. In the circumstances there could be little question it is the best line-up we had. Peter Clarke, Joe Max and Idan on the bench. There's little point listing the injuries and sicknesses since it now beyond a joke and something which can no longer be laid at the door of Lady Luck, not after last season. Something is BADLY wrong. Get it sorted, Smiffy. No more excuses.

Spurs had Les Ferdinand up front and he got his obligatory goal against us after five minutes. Me, I sort of went, "Well, that's that out of the way. Now let's get on with the game." I knew veteran Les wouldn't last the distance, thank gawd. Nor did he. But it was a really stupid goal to let through and Beloved Lard Arse bears the blame. Out on our left, a third of the way between our goal line and the half way line and he hits it straight to one of theirs, incongruously dives in to tackle him, the ball gets sent through behind him and their man got an unobstructed first class cross in for Les to bullet a superb downward header into Simo's bottom left corner. Simple. As our boys reformed for the restart I caught a glimpse of Gary shaking his head angrily at the situation. Whoops, a brewing situation there, methinks. Unsy can't complain, though. It was as amateurish as you can get.

So a few minutes later we got a quite magnificent equaliser. I mean, what's going on here, people? First, we had that terrific goal against the Mackems. Now this. A few more of these and we'll be in Europe. Yes, yes, I jest. That said, opportunist goals don't come much better. Gazza went wide right, which is his occasional wont, and got in a half-arsed cross which hit a defender's head and shot up backwards towards the left side of the edge of the box in line with the post. Where lurked Davey in one of his pissed-off-and-getting-up-front modes. It dropped slightly behind him, on his right foot, so he hooked it in on the volley and it screeched into the top right corner, unstoppable. We were right in line with it and it was home the second it left his foot. Which explains why Kyle was dancing on the top of my head in an impression of me dancing on top of Texyla's cranium. In Geoff's absence, Paul started a "Davey Weir" song which spread like wild fire. Steve too was absent and this might not go down too well, especially as he claims authorship of the original "Alan Stubbs" version. I understand there is a letter in the post from his solicitors, haha.

That settled everyone down, including Les who didn't get a kick for the rest of his time on the pitch. From then on it became a staccato game, back and forth, not much really good movement but enough edgy incident to keep you involved. Either side could have scored and won. Both sides had the edge during various uneven phases of play. There were valid penalty claims at each end. Encouragingly, both sides had recognisable formation play which made strengths and weaknesses all the more apparent. This isn't a luxury we have had for a long time.

For us, this was Tony's real baptism of fire and he came through it well despite some understandable uncertain moments caused by inexperience. Once again the ball was played down his side in an effort to exploit his rooky status. He let nobody down though and certainly didn't distribute the ball to the opposition like some of the seniors did. He kept at it and didn't tire. If he can gain some physical strength and tighten up his positional play he should make it.

Simo again produced two or three great saves to keep us in the game when it mattered. Otherwise he was bothered at about the same rate as their keeper. That is, hardly at all. Unlike Paul, he can keep his concentration and produce the goods when required. He has every reason to feel good about his game. And he plainly does, considering the self confident manner in which he's rightly beginning to bollock our defence. More please, Simo. It's a measure of his progress when nobody is unduly concerned when a fifty-fifty cross comes over.

Apart from the goal, Davey-Stubbsy got it right again despite having to contend with some tall players at free kicks and corners. One of the latter nearly managed a winner right at the death when a close-in header hit the top of our bar and zoomed over.

Midfield was its usual untidy, maddening self. Gemmo recovered his form a bit more, Gary had an excellent display left side and Nic maintained his own. Gazza had what I think was his best all round game without being spectacular, and more to the point he stayed the course and only gave the ball away on three occasions, none of them embarrassing.

If The Yin and SuperKev had not been up front I think we would likely have lost this game. Not because they had specially good games, more because their presence kept Spurs tied down at the back and therefore less free to come forward. Both of them gave the Spurs defence a gruelling time close up and personal. The Yin still looks like an oil tanker with a ten kilometre turning circle but still managed to win a few in the air, certainly enough for Spurs not to leave him unmarked. For all that, SuperKev-Yin is not our best striking combination. The chemistry just doesn't work as well as it might. For me, it will always be SuperKev-Rad………………until The Yin can prove otherwise.

Smiffy sent on young Clarkey in the second half with just enough time left for it to be a gamble. Did well, too. Joe Max came on too and was promptly sent to midfield to battle as valiantly and as ineffectively as ever in the wrong position.

Earlier I mentioned there were two jarring notes to this game. The second came when a few divvies not far from our seats started an anti-Jewish song. Which promptly had me out of my seat roaring, "Shurrup you cunts, shurrup!" Equally promptly they shut up, despicable pricks. If there's a next time, I'll shout nothing and just finger them to the bizzies. Is it any coincidence this is the first away game where our club didn't distribute anti-racist leaflets?

All in all, this was a fair result and a good point for us to win. However, there are now only four points between us and the bottom three. The recent catastrophic run has come home in spades. Anything less than the full commitment shown in this game will see us down at the bottom again and in real trouble. Fortunately we have SuperKev and the Yin while The Rad is out………………without them we would have no fire power at all, something emphasised by the fact that Davey is now joint top scorer with four goals, which is enough to make you weep.

For them, I was pleased for their fans that Glenda has them playing football again instead of that Bunger-miasma which enveloped them for too long. Still, you pays your money and you takes your choice. The only question is whether you have the character to resist it when it is offered illegally and in brown envelopes.

By the time we arrived home at base my headache was still throbbing away. I hope it has gone by the end of the season.

Team News

What a difference a day makes. Wato is now out. Walter says: "It is disappointing. We had hoped to include Steve in our plans but the injury is still giving him a little bit of trouble." Good news for 'The Hibbert' though, as Young Tony should keep his place. Maybe he could go in as hard as fuck on a 50-50 with Tarrico. (18/01/02)

You just haven't got a clue what team Walter will pick. But the good news is Big Dunc and Stevie Watson are both fit and are added to last weeks squad. Will Walter pick the two big chaps to play upfront against Spurs. We don't think so. We believe that Duncan will be on the bench even though he played a full 90 for the reserves on Wednesday night

Stevie Watson will almost certainly replace young Tony Hibbert at right back, who is improving with every game he plays.

Anyway it doesn't matter who plays as long as we give it to them. We need the points. And what do points make. Yes prizes. The more points you get the bigger prize you get. (the last 3 sentences should be said with a Bruce Forsyth voice) (17/01/02)