ROTTEN BORO'
By
Mickey Blue Eyes.

It was a week of unrelenting sadness and tragedy remembered. "Ordinary" people were either poetic or incoherent, the bourgeoisie were their usual absurd quasi-intellectual selves and the establishment, particularly the American and British variants, as hog-brained, remote and incapable as ever. Football was the very least of it. Our match at Southampton, any match, was as memorable as tears in the rain.

September 11th is now considered a turning point, though in truth that point was reached long before the massacre of the innocents. It isn't a question of a derisory "doing nothing," by which the vacuous usually mean not going to war on the equally innocent Iraqi or Afghani people. It is a question of how we achieve justice and peace for all, not how to obtain napoleonic revenge. Ultimately the revenge will in turn be revenged. That is the lesson of history, as George Santayana once wearily pointed out. Thus, the times require great and fair men to prevent us descending into a cycle of familiar horror. A glance at present leadership shows little likelihood of this. Our species of tribal leaders appears to have understood little from the previous century, or any other century for that matter. That understanding will never be achieved over the dead bodies of innocent human beings, be they Iraqis or Americans or anybody else. Which is about the only thing you can be sure of. Revanchists will say otherwise because all they have to offer is the despair of incomprehension and the madness of violent death. One look and listen to "president" Bush and mickey mouse poodle Blair will demonstrate just how short we are of genuine humanist intellectuals.

So by the time Saturday rolled around I had little feeling for the match with The Smoggies. Last season the only game I missed home and away followed the actual horror in New York. It was the home match V the pinkies. Reliable friends of both persuasions confirmed it was a game all Evertonians should have missed since we were soundly thrashed. It was a bad footy omen. Last season too Boro' were the worst team I saw with the exception of ourselves. But they improved and we went from just acceptable, to bad to worse. And then Smiffy was gone in the puff of a complete Cup disaster at, erm, Boro'.

After which, the novelty of Moyesy's arrival gave us a much needed kick in the pants and eventual safety. Since then, hope turned into mostly unreal expectation. Unsurprisingly this has not been fulfilled. Footy fans are no better with their memories than the rest of the species. If Moyesy is to become the great manager we all hope for he will have to undergo the inevitable early cold shower suffered by other great managers like Harry Catterick, Alex Ferguson, Bobby Robson, Howard Kendall and many others. Beware of the Keegan Syndrome. There's a long way to go.

So, egged on by an impatient moby call from Mogsy, I got to The Abbey on Walton Lane to assemble with the other Kipperites. It's the kind of comfortable one-room tiny pub you won't ever see built again. At least it is if you get there early enough. And the management allowed us to have glass glasses "because you're Blue Kipper." The price of fame. After a while I got Kipper to tell (for the umpteenth time) the Saga Of The Blue Kipper Trophies. One day he'll recount it himself so I won't spoil it for you here. Trust me, la, you'll split yer kecks laffin, like.

Texyla gave us his version of the midweek match at Soton and it was mostly good news, even that SuperKev's critics in the immediate vicinity limited themselves to, "Aw, c'mon, Kev" instead of the loony garbage most of them spit out. But the kind of mood I was in made me promise not to go ballistic (again) if I found one of the mad getts sitting behind me yet again. Against Brum and City I had paid the pricks back in full coin, to their complete amazement. But you can't keep that sort of thing going forever without becoming as bad as them. Thus, the promise.

Meantime, Kipper disappeared off to GP for the Blue Kipper trophy presentation to Stubbsy. Like all true fans he came back shaking at the experience. Of course that's the way you are when you're a fan. When you think about it, it's loony that middle-aged men can still feel like that. Nothing wrong with it, though, when you add a sense of realism. Which Kipper did by saying something like, "Look, Al, the last two recipients of this have fucked off on us. Promise us you won't do the same." As you would expect it was apparently a potent moment. Doubtless the magnum of champagne will dull Stubbsy's aching sides.

On the telly the Tyke Sheepshaggers finally beat the Mancs after five years of trying, and then we drew the REAL Sheepshaggers, Wrexham, in the League Cup. Which means we'll be back at the Plas Coch for a bevvy or two. Should be interesting comparing the somnambulence of our pre-season friendly with a competitive match. Nobody should take anything for granted, not with our recent record in the competition.

And so to the match on an absolutely glorious day for footy………… sunny, and just the right temperature. In me beloved Street End we were short of some of our regulars. The two Peters were missing and so was Neil Dicky Mint, the latter gone to Southport in Mexico. Or somewhere. It all felt odd but maybe it was just the mood I was in. Or maybe it was playing Boro', an odd club, who brought only half their allowed complement of fans.

Teams, Paul back in goal, Tony/Unsy full backs, Davey/Stubbsy centre backs, midfield Nic/The Gravedigger/Li Tie/ Pembo, and a front two of SuperKev and The Rad. The Duke was on the bench. Boro' had a lot of very expensive players courtesy of their owner, lorry firm owner Steve Gibson. This included the immortally named Maccarone.

When the match kicked off we were still chortling at the name when he skipped through wide left and hit one wide of Paul's left post with only the keeper to beat. Oh shit. Then after ten minutes of complete domination they go and get one through, erm, Maccarone's break down our right. Davey made a hash of an easy clearance, and the resulting cross shot got saved creditably by Paul before it fell to someone called Zemeth for a simple tap-in.

Once again the opposition played in numbers against Tony, who wasn't helped by Nic's lamentable form in front of him. But Tony got better and Nic didn't. Which surely means Nic's offski as soon as Moyesy's happy he has the right kind of replacement. Thing is, though, Tony is beginning to learn how to handle a torrid time against the division's owl arses. If he can come through this well, and the signs are that he will, you can bet he won't be subject to the same kind of thing later in the season.

Fact is, once again our midfield couldn't cope in the first half and for too much of the second. Once again this put our defence under the kind of pressure which was bound to tell sooner or later. Against one of the leading teams it will surely spell near disaster. The one bright spark remains Li Tie, a player who always wants the ball and knows how to pass it. Understandably his tackling has faded a bit and that might turn out to be his long term weakness unless he gets a second wind thereto.

During this bad spell Paul made a couple of terrific saves to keep us in the game. One of them a superb double save with boots flying all around him. It recalled the occasions when he managed a good run of form. Sadly he's one of those players who gets worse when he makes mistakes. But there's only one person who can make him better and that's himself. I hope I'm wrong when I say I can't see him ever getting to be first choice again, not after some of the worst 'keeping I have ever seen. Tougher temperaments than his have collapsed in similar circumstances.

It gets tiresome saying this but equally as usual our front two don't get the kind of service they need. Frequently they're left chasing forlorn causes or going for a lousy ball. The Rad and SuperKev hardly got a kick in the first half. Which led, incredibly, when SuperKev went down in a tackle, to one birdbrain behind me saying, "I hope you get carried off injured." Mindful of my promise, I turned and limited myself to a quiet, "G'way you thick cunt." I am pleased to report said thick cunt was gone with his three companions by half time. But not before we got the usual whingeing, "I paid sixty quid to watch this shite." Good riddance to him and everyone like him. Long term, we don't need that kind of free market shithouse. If and when our club turns around it will be without them. They were probably hurried on their way by the unexpected arrival of an equaliser after half an hour.

It came when Davey or Stubbsy carted one up in the air out of defence and it got knocked on air-borne to The Rad at the edge of the right-side goal area. Naturally he missed when he headed against the keeper's left hand post. It rebounded across the goal and Kev couldn't miss from close in. Of course it was completely undeserved but who gives a shit? One thing: I'm beginning to run out of patience with The Rad's misses. We are very close to the point where they can only be considered careless at the least. His pace is still phenomenal and it is time he started knocking the resulting chances in. If he doesn't, there can be only one logical conclusion. Either we or he will pay the price.

The Duke came on in the second half and immediately made a difference, though Boro' still mostly looked better than us. You can tell the boy has promise the way several owl arses crowd him the minute he gets near goal. You can almost smell their fear. Which means he gets goaded. Which means he mostly retaliates. Which means he gets booked, as he did during a goal mouth handbags session. Well, that's okay so long as he learns the lesson. If he doesn't, he'll get a red card sooner or later, precisely what the defenders want. Nobody doubts he can look after himself physically. Now he has to show he has the temperament to make it all count. In this match he nearly did it with a magnificent central free kick which whistled narrowly over the bar with the keeper almost relieving himself on the park. More and more you get the feeling that he just needs his first goal to REALLY take off…………………………….

Gradually we battled back into the game and Boro faded badly. Then we went in front with a quite superb goal by SuperKev with twenty minutes left. Corner, left side, taken by The Gravedigger……………perfectly looped into the nearside angle of the goal area……………perfectly bisected by Kev…………and it bulleted in. Interestingly, our corners are much improved this season. Whoever takes them, they actually get into some very difficult areas. I have no explanation for this sudden improvement unless Moyesy's got as pissed off as us with previous efforts.

From then until the end we were the only likely winners. This was very satisfying given the amount of money spent by Boro'. There's a lesson in there somewhere for those who want to learn.

Those who don't want to learn or listen are usually gone by half time anyway. And, as I said, good riddance to them.

Team News

With no new injuries from Wednesday, Moyesy should have the same squad to pick from, with the addition of Simmo. Richard Wright, & Joey Yobo have slight chances, but it doesn't look good. I think Moysey will revert to the 433 formation. With a recall for Wayne Rooney.

Jogger predicts the team: Simmonsen, Hibbert, Li Weifeng, Weir, Unsworth, Gravesen, Li Tie, Pembridge, Rooney, Campbell & Radzinski.