The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!!
Or something
By
Mickey Blue Eyes

Stay calm.

Read the next three paragraphs and everything will be okay.

The forty years long Cold War was a false concoction designed to scare everybody to death to keep them in line on both sides of the Iron Curtain. Only mad righties in the USA – usually disproportionately from Texas or Chicago – and Europe and their equivalent in the old Soviet Union ever believed a mechanised horde of Russian peasants were going to come storming over the horizon to occupy Woolton or Peoria or Goodison Park or the Yankee Stadium. So when the Soviet Union eventually and inevitably expired of justified paranoid weariness and inefficiency it gutted loony Western militarists everywhere. The rest of humanity, which is to say everybody, cheered loud and long. The threatened mushroom cloud dispersed quietly and the righties were suddenly nonplussed. No overt “enemy,” see. Well, not immediately.

There was understandably cheerful if nonsensical talk of the “Peace Dividend” and where “defence” expenditure could be redirected. For a wild moment there was even expectation the Pentagon would stop buying all those $300 toilet seats and help create a decent health system for US citizens. (You wanna know where Texas Enron and BCCI et al learned their accountancy methods? You could do worse than study the Department of Defense, CIA-directed funding of assassination plots and/or our very own lovable Ministry of Defence and MI5/MI6 records since 1945). Of course all that silly optimism stopped when everybody gradually realised the Americans fully intended to turn suitably vulnerable areas of the planet into a turkey-shoot, and the Brits were more than happy to be their game beaters. So the cheering stopped.

Instead, we got Roman Abramovich and Chelsea.

Oh well.

Now, call me small-minded if you will but I figure that’s something of a strategic and moral disappointment, a bit like the Premiership and G14 cartels and local car jockeys who sell stories to the media. While Russia and the old Romanoff coat of arms disappears up its own economics one of its own breed of “entrepreneurs” (read: spivs) is betting millions of their money in the casino of English football. If I was a tovarich I’d be mightily pissed off. If you get a bad flavour in your mouth from Roman then allow me to congratulate you on your excellent taste. It coincides exactly with my own.

Roman Abramovich and Ken Bates. Yes, it has the sort of ring you associate with that bell in the New York Stock Exchange. No, the one that actually RINGS. They go together as easily as Richard Nixon and Pepsi Co., or Tony Blair and treachery. Moreover, there’s rich irony in an acknowledged cockpit of extreme English nationalism, fascism even, being acquired by a former Russian “communist.” Hence I find myself also laughing fit to burst.

Then again, ask yourself what is the difference between the Russkie Ripoff Merchant and the Moores family buying into Everton and Liverpool? I won’t state it here since, as regular readers know, I am a big believer in you getting off your behind and doing your own analysis. It will only be a worthwhile exercise if you can avoid a headache whilst adding one and one. Just don’t step on your own dick.

No, where Roman is concerned I have seen the future and it doesn’t work. He and I are NOT friends. Needless to say I had mixed feelings about the match on Saturday. I wanted to see great players but I loathed the way they were brought together. Yet I don’t remember anyone feeling that way when John Moores owned EFC. Doubtless you have your own reasons. You might also consider how you would react if someone like Roman (or the Irish mafia trying to hustle Manchester United) made an effort to buy Everton Football Club.

In the meantime, think FANS TRUST, but sports-wide, not single club. No English premiership club in isolation could exist that way for long, not successfully anyway. Even the Barcelona set-up cannot guarantee equanimity or playing success.

Meantime, Thursday’s AGM made it plain that –

1. The financial situation is relatively under control. For those who need clarification the key word is third from the end of that sentence.

2. We have no money and have to sell before we buy.

3. Repeat of last minute activity to meet transfer datelines is OUT.

4. There have been no offers to buy the club by rich individuals, nor has anyone shown the slightest interest in doing so.

5. Discussions continue over a groundshare with the pinkies. But will only continue if the financial gains outweigh everything else, which is unlikely to happen.

For items 1 through 4, so far so mundane. What did you expect?

Item 4 is going to get hot if the ONLY proposal is to share the pinkies proposed stadium site in Stanley Park. I can’t see a majority of Evertonians going for that, including me. A shared stadium would have to be on a neutral site. Those who can’t see why are living in cloud cuckoo land. In any case by Friday BBC TV Teletext was quoting Carter as saying a shared stadium would also be considered if built by the council. Sounds sensible to me – if you believe they could be trusted to deliver. Which they couldn’t. Furthermore, quite rightly, the pinkies would have to be compensated by a third party for fees expenditure thus far. Frankly I see too many obstacles to this one, caused largely by the lateness of the suggestion. The timing of the whole thing is somewhat curious, coming as it did just a week or two before the pinkies made their planning application.

Whatever happens, I repeat here my opinion that the pinkies scheme MUST GO AHEAD FOR THE SAKE OF THE CITY. If we delay such an important facility for much longer we will fall so far behind Manchester we all might as well go and live in tents in…………….well, in Stanley Park, actually. Having lost Kings Dock, Everton Football Club will also have to deal with all the implications of falling even further behind Dracula’s Castle. Once again – tough. Live with it.

So the AGM went on its predictable way. That is, nothing changed. Got a spare £150 million anybody? Any idea how we could get it without ending up like Leeds? No? Thought not. Welcome to football reality, 2003-2004. Leave the paranoid tin-pot pub revolutionaries to eat their own anus. They talk out of it most of the time anyway. It’s always a good idea to be selective of who and what shares your space. Cheap gossipers, car jockeys and junkies or drunks are not my idea of good or intelligent company, nor is the crap they sell.

Meantime, gossiping fish-wives and the usual rumour merchants spread various stories via phone and e-mail that Moyesy introduced extra training schedules and Stubbsy and Rooney – allegedly for just two – objected to it all. If it’s true, and I really couldn’t give a shit if it is, then I suggest Moyesy either sacks the two of them or sticks them in the reserves. There can be only one manager. You can’t help laughing uproariously at the self-named “star fans, “insiders” and all the rest of the hangers-on, media or otherwise, who peddle this muck. Why, you wonder perfectly reasonably, can’t these inadequate people find some fulfilment in life instead of just leeching on to the game as some sort of psychological crutch? It really is possible to love it for itself and then get on with your life without turning it into some sort of Freudian symbol or, worse, a money-making vehicle for, gawd help us, local “entrepreneurs,” or even a phoney “issue” for local opportunist politicians and their apparatchiks. Should you be unfortunate enough to bump into one of these arseholes, or get a communication therefrom, I recommend you go home immediately and take a good, hot shower. It’s the only way to get the smell of the punks out of your hair and off your skin. Send your clothes to the cleaners too.

By the time Saturday arrived it was a huge relief just to contemplate an actual footy match instead of all the above crap. Once the game is under way all that is left in the sewers where it belongs. Human escapism in extremis.

And despite recent form the crowd was really up for this one. The ground buzzed. Chelsea brought the usual small bunch of West End Charlies and nazis and occupied only the lower portion of the away section in the Bullens Road stand. Even Stockport brought more with them. There’s a lesson there somewhere. Over in the main stand directors box Roman stooped below the front parapet so all you could see was the top of his head. A Stalingrad sniper could have taken him out with one clean shot. And modern shoulder arms are so much more accurate. Be afraid, Roman, be very afraid. I jest of course, just in case any of you ex-squaddies decide to get your own back for being stuck in the useless British Army On The Rhine for all those years.

For us, the only changes were The Rad partnering The Duke up front and Kilbane at wide left mid. For them, everyone, everywhere, who cost huge amounts of dosh. Out at the dotted line Moyesy wore his track suit while Claudio Ranieri wore the kind of black overcoat you associated with John Gotti, except Gotti never turned up the collar.

So then we go and batter them for two thirds of the game, should have won by three or four, no joke, and eventually just ran out of steam because Chelsea had the ball doing most of the work most of the time. In many respects it was English Premiership versus Italian Catenaccio. For those who haven’t seen the latter live, now you know why Italian football is in the state it is and why there is talk of Roman doing a number on Claudio. I know which I prefer and it isn’t The Boot method.

Strangely enough the game pattern was set from the kick-off. One of theirs tried a long distance shot from the half way line and it sailed well wide. Straight from the goal kick we went down the other end, The Gravedigger put The Rad clear one-on-one and………………well, do you really need telling? I glanced over at Moyesy. His face was a cross between thunderstruck and static apoplexy. Anymore of these, you feel, and The Rad will have exhausted his considerable patience. Fans everywhere were standing with their hands on their heads, shouting incoherently.

A couple of minutes later a long cross from the left got butted over from the edge of the goal area by Kilbane with an open goal beckoning. It was the only thing Kilbane did wrong all afternoon. From then on he had a superb game and could even lay claim to the man-of-the-match award. He formed an excellent partnership with Nace – yet another good game – down the left side and frequently had Chelsea doubling back even further than their playing method dictated. Which is to say well inside their own half all the way back to the goal line with the ball going back and forth across the centre of the park until they could try a long, wide pass. This didn’t happen very often so they were very close to a rogering for much of the time.

Then a move down our right tore them to shreds and left Rooney wide right, edge of the box, and Cudicini scrambling backwards like a stranded seel to get a flipper on yet another cheeky lob. Then Alex Nyarko, all of twenty-two metres out, hit a right footed shot that beat him all ends up – the best keeper in the league really WAS stranded immobile this time – hit the bar and came down and out. You felt then if we don’t get one soon it ain’t gonna be our day.

During all of this Chelsea’s only threatening reply was due to a defensive mix up on our right goal line. Mutu was left with a clear close-in angled chance which he missed a la The Rad. Apart from that it was continuous pressure on their defence, the kind we haven’t managed since slaughtering Leeds. Everyone played their part but you have to say Hibbo’s form has dipped alarmingly in the last few weeks. It seems like he has taken lessons from The Gravedigger in how Not To Cross A Ball. Nor is their right wing partnership anywhere near as good Hibbert-Carsley. At one point they exchanged words because once again The ‘digger left the youngster facing two or three attackers on his own. Nevertheless, compensation came from the two centre backs of Davey and Joey who were quite magnificent until injury split them and Davey hobbled off to a veteran’s long lay off.

The centre midfield of Toby-Nyarko won the centre decisively for most of the match. It only changed when they blew a gasket in the last quarter hour.

For all the pressure, our strikers couldn’t really force the issue. Given recent performances it is both encouraging and astonishing that our midfield were the engine they are supposed to be. But let’s be clear: a front two of The Rad and The Duke simply doesn’t work. All the worst fears are finally confirmed. They are too small and too similar. Young Rooney appears to have other things on his mind at the moment. Even his amazing close control let him down in this match.

The second half opened in similar fashion to the first. Immediately, Gravesen once again prodded a through ball to Radzinski dead centre between the penalty spot and the D. He did everything absolutely right – an instant turn and shot, hard over the top of a difficult bouncing ball, a screamer into the top right hand corner. Which is why Cudicini’s instinctive save was so good. Drat.

Then they go down the other end and score The Goal That Never Was. Sadly for us, the referee is Winter, he of the orange false tan, overbearing manner and minimal talent. The goal was allowed. Right side, almost by the corner flag, their man swung over a midheight cross anyone of three of ours could and should have cleared. Instead it threaded its way along the edge of the goal area. Mutu dived in, arm extended in front of Hibbo to stop him moving forward, the ball hit him on the arm and he headed it in. Everyone saw it, including our lot in the Lower Street End. It was ludicrous, but then so is Winter.

After that, Chelsea retreated even further into their shell for another half hour. They only came out of it with fifteen minutes left when we got tired and a bit disheartened at the bad luck we suffered. All through the game I kept wishing Kevin Campbell had been there, either for Radzinski or Rooney. Even The Yin would have helped undo them, of that I am reasonably certain.

Still, we kept going. And in the last minute The Gravedigger burst through from wide right and an angled run toward the D. He unleashed a superb ground shot into Cudicini’s bottom right corner. But the brilliant Italian made an even better save.

Having played so well it was particularly hard to lose this game. We have to hope recent poor form has been left behind. If we don’t get something from the next three games we are going to be in difficulties. As I write, we are sixteenth. Time to wake up, limited resources or no resources. This game proved we can play as well as we did last season when putting a good run together.

But what are we to do about our lack of goals?

Look, get all this in perspective. During the Cold War there was a famous civil defence wall sheet which originated in the United States. It went something like this:

IN CASE OF NUCLEAR ATTACK.

1. Close all doors and windows.

2. Place a blanket over them.

3. Go to the centre of the room.

4. Assume a bent over crouched position.

5. Place your head between your knees.

6. Kiss your ass goodbye.

If results don’t improve shortly we will well and truly be kissing our collective ass goodbye.

Team News     

On the injury front it still looks like Super Kev will be missing with a toe problem. This leaves David Moyes a problem with who to choose up front. I think the Rad is a certainty to play with Duncan. What happens to Wayne is the next question. The answer could be to leave him on the left where he finished the game on Wednesday against Charlton. For the last 15 minutes on Wednesday Wayne looked great on the left hand side and was a threat every time he got the ball and with the pace of the Rad we should cause Chelsea a few problems. If we are going to beat them we need to attack from the start.

Alex Nyarko's performance on Wednesday indicates he will get another opportunity in the middle of the park.

I can't wait. See yer in The Harlech

Moyesy said: "Alex still has a long way to go before he is a regular. He has to earn the right to go into the side ahead of players who have done so well over the last season. Everyone who was available for Charlton should be available again. Kevin still has a bit of a bad toe and we will give him every opportunity.

Toby said: It's important going into the Chelsea game with a good performance and a good result in midweek. It's an exciting game for us all. But we need to build on the result against Charlton and I think we can do it.

Davie Weir said:“Last season nobody expected us to beat Arsenal at Goodison Park, but we did and it kick-started our season, and of course it was Wayne's goal that did it. This is a similar sort of game, not many people expect us to win it, so we have to go out and achieve a similar result to the Arsenal one last term.”

Joey Yobo said:"I think every player is getting ready for the big game on Saturday. Every player wants to be a part of it. I think it’s going to be a tough game but we’re ready for that and hopefully we can get a result out of it. We know that they’re a good side, they’ve got a big squad and it’s going to be a big game but I think the win on Wednesday has given us a lot of confidence. We’re at home and the fans will help us give our best.”

    Lard said: " Chelsea's away kit looks like a packet of Embassy Regal."

Everton from: Martyn, Hibbert, Stubbs, Yobo, Naysmith, Gravesen, Linderoth, Kilbane, McFadden, Rooney, Radzinski, Ferguson, Weir, Unsworth, Pistone, Jeffers, Clarke, Turner.

Lavington Spa's eleven to start: Martyn, Hibbert, Yobo, Weir, Naysmith, Gravesen, Linderoth, Nyarko, Rooney, Ferguson, Radzinski.