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BARCLAYCARD
FA Premiership League /Friday
9th April 2004 / Kick
Off: 8.00pm (PPV)
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EVERTON
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3
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v
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1 |
Spurs |
Unsy (15), Nace (23) & Joey (42) / Attn : 38,086
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Everton: Martyn, Pistone, Yobo, Unsworth, Naysmith, Watson, Gravesen, Linderoth, Kilbane, Radzinski, McFadden. Bench: Wright, Nyarko, Jeffers (for McFadden 79), Hibbert, Carsley (for Gravesen 88) Referee: Rob (I haven't got a fuckin clue) Styles So
here we were behind the bar pulling pints in the Blue Kipper lounge
as there was a shortage of bar staff, as if it wasn't bad enough,
8pm on a Good Friday night courtesy of the lovely SKY tv, what a way
to start Easter?! Half Time: Everton 3 Spurs 0
Full Time: Everton 3, Spurs 1 |
Gary Beckham, Struck A Wonderful Free Kick
Unsey Makes Up The Trio Of Defenders To Score
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Moyesy
says: "I was delighted with all the players. I thought
their attitude and their workrate tonight was wonderful, as well as
our play. It’s a good start to the Easter period for us. We played
extremely well in the first half, especially in the opening 30 minutes.
The players were good at closing down and put Tottenham under a lot
of pressure. To come in 3-0 up is a manager’s dream really. Grav says: "I think we have been playing well over the last couple of games. We tried to create a lot of chances and we worked tremendously hard. I think that is shown in the team spirit we have at Goodison. We went on the pitch in the second half looking to score a fourth goal and it was a little bit nervy. We had a couple of chances but they had nothing to lose in the second half and we’ve seen a couple of come-backs recently so we had to be aware of that. We’ll take all the goals we can get. We practice a lot in training to score goals. Gary’s free-kick was tremendous but he practices free-kicks every day in training so it came as no surprise that he scored." (10/04/04)
*Kasey Keller in the Spurs sticks looking were the ball had gone, as it was nestled in the back of his net. Noam
Chomsky and Ladies Day (Happy 18th birthday Chris Jones, 10th April 2004!) Ron the pinky “hates” Everton Football Club. Actually, no he doesn’t. He’s far too sensible to get involved in that tripe. So he “hates” Us like I “hate” Them. Which is to say, amuse yourself taking the piss out of uptight bores who should be consigned to the nearest haha hotel or internet footy message board. But he’s a great friend of mine and we enjoy knocking spots off each other in the never-ending search for vacuous chauvinist superiority. Naturally I maintain it’s easier to take the piss out of the pinkies because of their current self delusion and alleged number of non-Scouse fans. It helps to pass the time, especially when you get some pink dope trying to tell you how much Who?llier has recouped on deals while paying out zillions for people who, er, keep failing. Therefore we assembled in the most recent pile of bar room alcoholic delusion – Lloyds, off Concert Square, just down the road from Slater Street Slumsville – to lend support to our mutual friend Simon the Chelsea fan (yes, it WOULD be “Simon”) in Chelsea’s return midweek Euro clash with The Gooners. In accordance with irrational humanity I supported the Blues while Ron supported the pinks of north London. “We” won. Which makes a fucking change. Simon was ecstatic, probably relieved his club wasn’t about to be sold to Russki Waterski Utilitieski Inc., subsidiary of Houston Bush International Murderers Inc. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Chelski actually won the European Cup, especially since Madrid Harlem Globetrotters were soundly malletted by someone called Monaco. Next day hated AC Milan, home of neo-nazi Silvio Berlusconi, extreme right-wing racist fascist gobshite greasy political leader of Italy, one of the perpetrators of the last appalling Italian European Cup Final, were sensationally rogered 4-0 by Deportivo and fucked off to sports oblivion. Insofar as footy means anything I was delighted. I say Silvio is a two-faced lying crook in the pay of organised crime and P2 freemasons. Sue me you fucker, it’ll be my pleasure. We’ll follow the Calvi/Sindona saga to its source. Afterwards, Ron – a fellow atheist socialist – confirmed the great Noam Chomsky will deliver a lecture at Liverpool University in late May at a cost of £12 per ticket. Buy a ticket, people. Go and listen. Once Chomsky and his like (Peter Dale Scott, John Pilger et al) have gone there’ll be no articulate conscience left in our society and you will all be slaves to the Suits and unaccountable minimum-taxed transnational Corporations. 1984 will be here coated in sugar. All you’ll have left is the Daily Telegraph, Wirral west suburbia, the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo, the Daily Mail and Sky TV. If that’s what you want, screw YOU. You deserve what you get. After the match we were stuck in some side street obscure bar talking about the hiatus of conscience, Gramsci and the nadir of socialism while wondering if there was a more useless occupation than empty-headed DJ. Around us, Generation Xers talked about soap operas, opportunist spivvery and tabloid muck while pawing at each other to keep their hormones in check. Off in a dark corner someone calling himself a DJ scratched discs in something called a “mix”, actually a cacophony of untalented poseur cack. Ron claimed there was no need to despair. He had seen the future and it worked. At Aintree racecourse on Ladies Day. There, said Ron, bright-eyed and full of alcohol and unrestrained libido, he had seen earthy gerls (if you’re a REAL Scouser you’ll understand the spelling, Wools don’t bother) from Bootle and Toxteth exercising their freedom to get pissed and show their knickers when they fell over inebriated. Ron claimed this was free-thinking socialism in action. Moreover it made it a lot easier for him to get his end away. Fuck Ascot, said Ron, it’s an upper class bowl of shite. Well, I couldn’t disagree. After all, neither of us were in the European Cup. More to the point, we weren’t going to get a corrupt Italian European Cup Final this season. Spring – ah yes, when a young man’s fancy turns to what he’s been thinking about all Winter. Same goes for gerls too. But apart from all that trite nonsense it was a week of cold, piss-pouring April showers more than matching the general mood of Evertonians after last week’s umpteenth debacle, this time at Newcastle’s weird half-stadium. I cannot comment on the game because I didn’t go and haven’t seen any of the lowlights on TV. My prime reason for not going is the complete lack of hospitality shown by the north-east fuzz and their pug-ugly tooled-up, leather-clad policing methods. And since they make it so obvious nobody’s welcome up there, my reaction is, well, they can shove it up their collective anal canal. There was a time when a trip to the north-east was one of the pleasures of the season. Not any more though, not since it began to look like Checkpoint Charlie. Match night, I felt a proper Charlie meself, hungover from the previous evening’s business dinner and an uneven attempt to persuade a potential client that while he wanted a building for five million his wish list meant it would cost a minimum ten million and probably nearer twelve million by the time he’d stopped trying to trample on reality. At such times alcohol helps insulate you against the worst affects of human obduracy and mere wilfulness. It was a pleasant evening, if a little chilly, and the crowd plainly up for the game from the beginning, possibly fortified by extra bevvying time courtesy of Sky TV’s unwelcome havoc with playing schedules. In the seats you could hear the occasional voice taking the piss out of the pinkies demise at Arsenal. Someone said, “Carragher’s gorra red ring around his neck where his arse was when Thierry Henry finished with him.” This was madly vicious but well worth remembering for the next pink you encounter. It’s also worth remembering Henry has done the same thing to most everybody this season. When I heard our front two of The Rad and Jamie Mac I thought we would be lucky to get a draw at best. How wrong could you be. They were both excellent and Jamie got my man of the match vote. Right from the beginning we were all over them like a Friday night rash. The front two chased everything while everybody else did what they were doing most of last season – play it tight, don’t draw out of tackles and don’t dally on the ball, pass it to one of ours. Only Sandro got mildly self indulgent at right back. Tottenham had almost nothing to offer especially when tactics and individual play virtually negated the height advantages of Ledley King and a quite hapless Gary Docherty. After fifteen minutes of constant pressure including a couple of unlucky Rad misses we got a corner on the left in the Park End. Gravesen took it short to Nace and it pissed me off enough to say, “Why didn’t he just get it over?” just as it was promptly returned to him and he got in a terrific right foot swerving and dipping cross to the front of the penalty spot, where it got headed on and Unsy appeared around the back on the right to sidefoot volley it home. Cool as you like, the move had taken out the entire Tottenham defence as though they weren’t there. Jamie Mac was having an absolutely sterling game, taking men on in direct runs quite similar to The Duke and just as tenacious. Suddenly he looked every bit the player we saw in his first two games. Startlingly, centre midfield was as solid as a rock. The Gravedigger and Toby were perfectly complementary. It got to the point where The ‘digger began to indulge successfully in his tight little dribbles, the ones where he usually loses the ball and sets up an opposition attack. Except this time he wasn’t giving the ball away. Tottenham were overrun. On twenty five minutes Jamie went slaloming through the right side of their defence yet again leaving three men in his wake before Docherty finally gave up the ghost and brought him down. Free kick, left of the D, maybe twenty metres out. The ‘digger and Nace both shaped to take it with the former much further out and looking like he was ready to bladder it. Instead Nace took a short run and hit a superb slow curling shot into the left of the goal just inside the post. When these things come off, don’t they look easy? Which only demonstrates how good Beckham’s free kicks are. Tottenham’s only response was a difficult ground shot from the left which Nige had to get to low down. Apart from that Robbie Keane was a voice in the wilderness. Their defence was constantly in trouble from some excellent interpassing and running. At times Ledley King looked like a stranded lighthouse. Then five minutes from half time we got a deserved third and our cup runneth over. Another free kick in the same place and for the same reason. Amazingly Tottenham couldn’t shift two blue shirts from the centre goal end of the defensive wall and when they got out of the way of The ‘digger’s blast it went straight through and their ‘keeper understandably spilled it at ground level where Joey came charging in to knock in a very popular goal. We were full value. At half time the Street End was rife with rumours (where the HELL do they get them?) of a bust up between Moyesy and The Ears. I have no idea if these are true or not, but if so, then you can safely say it’s sayonara Francis Jeffers. Quite rightly two strikes means he would be out. For his own sake I hope he learns how to conduct himself better or his playing career will end up in tatters. But this will be his final stint at Goodison Park and he only has himself to blame on both occasions. Most of us half feared another second half Jekyll and Hyde performance but it never transpired. Spurs had a mere ten minutes spell with fifteen minutes left when Carr scored a really good goal with a run and switch pass on the right before slotting it inside the left post. If any of their players deserved anything it was he. Then he gets sent off after yet another persecuting run from Jamie Mac lacerated their left side defence and he clipped his heels from the rear for a second yellow card. All round, then, an exhilarating performance on an exhilarating evening, probably our best of the season to date. Quite rightly it raises questions as to why and how we haven’t done it before to this level when last season the team showed what it could do. The most encouraging sign of all was the form of Jamie Mac. He showed enormous courage in taking on much bigger and stronger opponents and running them ragged. His close control and pace was as phenomenal as anything we’ve seen from The Duke this season. The mind boggles at the prospect of the two of them on song at the same time in the same team. Small or not, it’s a delicious prospect. But as I said, you wonder why they’ve left it this late to perform like this…………………………… Team News Last Season's Game Moyesy's main worries tomorrow night, are the fitness of Alan Stubbs, and striker Franny Jeffers. Stubbsy is struggling with a groin injury, which may even need surgery in the Summer. Jeffers meanwhile is suffering from a sore arse, after being sat on it all season, but if he passes a fitness test, he is sure to start. David Unsworth may again be asked to fill the centre halves berth alongside Joey Yobo, if Stubbsy's groin continues to play up. Big Dunc, The Duke, Davey Weir, and fringe player Peter Clarke are all suspended, so headaches for Moyesy are a plenty. Faddy is on stand by, to fill a front line role, alongside The Rad, or the ever mobile Super Kev, may partner the Canadian.Moyesy the decision is yours, thank fuck!!!! Moyesy on The Easter Programme: "We know our job and the importance of being a Premier League club, we are not burying our heads in the sand and suggesting we are fine. If we take six points over Easter we'll have pulled away from fears that we will be in the relegation fight. We are wary of what other teams might do but you have to rely on yourselves." (08/04/04) Everton from: Martyn, Stubbs, Unsworth, Yobo, Radzinski, Campbell, Pistone, Kilbane, Naysmith, Jeffers, Nyarko, Linderoth, McFadden, Carsley, Hibbert, Wright, Watson, Gravesen. Sausage's eleven to start: Martyn, Pistone, Yobo, Stubbs, Naysmith, Kilbane, Watson, Gravesen, Linderoth, Radzinski, Jeffers |
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