Everton:
Martyn,
Hibbert, Unsworth, Stubbs, Pistone, Nyarko, Gravesen, Kilbane, Radzinski,
Ferguson, Rooney
.
Subs
: Simonsen, Jeffers
(for Pistone 85 mins), Carsley, Naysmith (for Unsworth 60mins), Campbell
Referee
:
Dermot 'Jimmy Sommerville' Gallagher
Is
this going to be our year, maybe the thirteen odd thousand who stayed
away thought not, but still on a crisp Winters day, we set off for
the shrine, thinking even with their lofty perch in the Premiership,
Fulham should really cause us no problems. For this match report,
just read the Charlton one, as the games mirrored each other. Two
teams content on coming to Goodison to stifle what little creative
play we have, and trying to nick a result on the counter attack. Everton
as normal started bright, lots of pressure, but not very pretty to
watch. Nyarko was called into the middle, and I for one was pleased
with that, as he takes some of the work load off the Grav. A shuffle
off the deck at the back, where Nace was dropped to the bench, in
favour of Hibbert, and Moyesy stuck with the Big Man, and Rad, with
Rooney out wide. A shit first half in truth, were the only goal mouth
action was a header cleared off the line by some funny sounding name
fella', after a great header from Duncan. A disallowed goal from Killa,
who was not to subtle knocking the ball on with his arm, as even Stevie
Wonder would have been hard pressed not to see that one. A couple
of crap shots, by Nyarko and Hibbert, and really that was that. Lard
was dispatched five minutes before Half Time, to get in the warm cuppa's,
and we pondered our evening's entertainment, as there was knob all
else to talk about.
Half
Time : Everton 0, Fulham 0
Four
minutes in to the second half, just as we were returning to our seats
after our half time refreshments and piss, and sod's law up pops Everton
transfer target Sean Davis to put Fulham one up. Graham Stuart the
other week, now Davis, all with Everton links, if someone follows
them type of bets, their betfair accounts will be showing a very healthy
profit of late. As you would expect, and is the norm of late, the
goal spurred Everton into action. Ferguson spurned a great oppurtunity
as his free header went wide. Everton's play did get better, with
Gravesen spraying the ball around the pitch in a manner Sheedy would
be proud of, but in the last third of the pitch the quality just seems
to stop. Penalty appeals were waved away by Jimmy Sommerville, who
has turned to refereeing since his pop career has plummeted, as Knight's
handball was as blatant as Kilbane's in the first. I turned to Lard
and commented it was not going to be our year again, and he told me
to keep the faith. Moyesy brought on Nace for Unsey on the hour mark,
and it did provide us with a bit more width. Van Der Saar who looked
as comfortable as any keeper I have seen at Goodison this season,
produced a flying save from Ferguson with the clock ticking down.
Moyesy then threw on Franny, seeing if he could do in five minutes,
what our forwards had failed to do in the previous eighty five. As
the fans were getting ready for their trips home, Everton forced a
corner, the volume rose one last time, and after a scramble in the
box, Jeffers pounced on the loose ball to fire his shot into the Street
End net. I hugged Lard with an amazing hug, that lasted all of a minute,
it was probably one of the best male on male hugs I have ever had.
Keep the faith he said, and we did. Roll on Loftus Road, as with the
level of performance, and the tempo we are playing at, sooner or later
someone is going to be on the end of a belting, lets hope it them
bastards a week on Wednesday.
The
Pedal Bin Murder
By
Mickey Blue Eyes
This
opening is non-footy. If you don’t like it, piss off to one of those
websites where they’re so far up their own arse they’re scratching
their ear. There’s plenty of THOSE.
Anyway,
Saturday night, Lard, his good lady, and two friends repair to Penny
Lane Wine Bar. Wherein the food is much delayed after ordering. Over
an hour in fact. Which was extremely unfortunate because Lard was
already pissed from previous inexcusable quaffing. Naturally this
meant he was at the nasty part of the ale. In turn this led to him
performing a most unEnglish act. He complained, gathered his outrage
and his companions, and fucked off to the nearest chippy, purchased
appalling unhygienic and unappetising muck, and went home to enjoy
what was left of the evening. Next day he was confronted by his lady
who challenged him to remember the previous evenings events. He couldn’t.
To
cut a long story short it turned out that Lard’s lady and friends
had come out to the kitchen and found Lard writhing on the floor literally
punching the living shites out of the stainless steel pedal bin, shouting,
“Take that you twat, I’ve never liked you!” Then he jumped up and
danced all over said inanimate but much dented artifact. This act
immediately rendered redundant Cleese’s infamous sound thrashing of
a useless Morris motor car in “Fawlty Towers.” There are photographs
of Lard’s madness. They will be posted on Blue Kipper at appropriate
moments. He will not be allowed to forget. There is a message here
not dissimilar to the voice one Billy Connolly once heard in his ear.
It told him to stop drinking while it was still his idea. Nevertheless,
I’m DYING to see the photos.
Why
am I telling you this? Well, it’s largely because I regret to report
yet another pile of inconsequential poo of a footy match, this time
the home Cup game against Fulham, the Lahndan club nobody likes for
all the right reasons. Anything to divert attention.
I
won’t insult your intelligence the way newspapers and some other websites
do. This match was shite with a capital S. It was one of those weird
games where nobody was really up for it before, during or afterwards.
You can rationalise and record the game’s events all you want. The
fact is, it was crap.
The
only passing and movement on display mostly came from Fulham, despite
the fact we missed four or five clear-cut chances. They scored with
their only effort after three minutes of the second half. It was that
odd. Alex Nyarko sadly messed up a simple task in midfield and they
broke away through wretched marking, then Nige only parried a shot
and nobody picked up a loose man and he stuck it in.
After
that, we poured forward but weren’t remotely convincing. Passing,
crosses and attempts on goal never looked like they would deliver.
As a fan, you know the usual reasons. You don’t need me or some useless
infoclerk of a journo to tell you.
In
the final minute, The Yin rose like a salmon and bulleted a header
goalward where it was parried right out to sub Francis Jeffers and
he managed to knee/thigh it over the line to get us to a replay. I
am optimistic about the replay but I can’t really tell you why.
I
will go to the game because it is the FA Cup, the world’s greatest
knock-out competition. I just wish this game had been a better example.
Fuck
this, I’m going to bed. I have a building to design in the morning.
(26/01/04)
