As I write, we have played twenty-one games and we are fourth in the table. Record: Played 21, Won 10, Drawn 5, Lost 6, Goals for 23, Goals against 22, Goal difference +1, Points 35. John Motson would use a standard trigger-word, “Remarkable.” The most surprising thing is that it is well deserved and well earned. Maintaining it will be another matter.

Nobody expected this, absolutely nobody. For most of us it has been like a footy miracle. No matter how charitably you looked at it Walter Smith was considered our jailer. He hadn’t built the prison but he had the keys and he used them only sparingly. Then along came David Moyes and it was Bastille Day. Funny, but once the gates were stormed the revolutionaries found nobody manning the walls. There was nothing to fear but fear itself. Liberation is like that. First though you have to free your mind from psychic pain. The limits are usually self-imposed. ¡Hasta la Victoria siempre!

But let’s get one thing straight here and now: cheap metaphors like “…punching above our weight…” don’t apply. It has been achieved through a lot of hard work and talent. It has been earned. That much is obvious even to a cursory glance by genuine fans. You don’t get these kinds of playing returns through sheer luck, though of course it plays its part.

Of course we are only in the first throes of a new era. Much of our fans’ understandable euphoria is laced with relief. Whatever, it would take a churl of Thatcheresque/Daily Mail proportions or a cloned sour pinky to resent the waves of good feeling. And still there are those in the offing. The Melledrew Tendency persists like a dose of winter influenza, an intrinsic part of a miserable, snivelling corner of English culture. It would be a huge pity to see the new era subsumed by that sort of cellulite thigh-chaffing self-loathing. Which is another reason to be ever so grateful for Moyesy’s invigorating fresh air.

Before the season began most of us would have been happy with a place in the top half of the table by New Year. The idea of European qualification would have been as hilarious as taking the mickey out of the Tendency out there on the periphery. Nevertheless the notion persists. If it becomes reality in spite of obvious hurdles then everyone at the club will deserve due credit. The directors will have selected the right manager, the players will have responded in the right way, and the man himself will have applied his talents to their best affects. Retrospective media “wisdom” will have been defied against the odds they helped manufacture. It is an altogether unlikely tale and probably it is not yet finished.

It is worth bearing in mind too that not so long ago some of the Tendency were pointing out Leeds and Ipswich as models to follow. Leeds are now in deserved disarray, financial and otherwise, and Ipswich, sadly, are in the second division. Not so long ago people were holding up David Sheepshanks’ Five Year Plan and saying, “That’s the way to do it!” As it turned out, playing-wise, no it isn’t – anymore than the Ridsdale Five Year Plan. That just isn’t the way genuine footy works. Which is why David Dein of Arsenal told Bill Kenwright he was mad to get involved in club ownership. Other examples: for all the money spent, Manchester United and the pinkies have fallen well short. There are always lessons to be learned. You’d think this singular fact of life would dawn on the Tendency, but don’t make book on it. They’ll always find something to whine about.

Not that any of it looked likely early in the season. After five matches, we had lost two, drawn two and won one. Still everyone was patient. Walter’s Calvinist presence was gone. The bright and enthusiastic new boy had to have time after nailing his proclamation to the church door. At times he looked and sounded like a young Martin Luther.

But in each of these games save one a peculiar pattern had emerged: late on, we still tended to fade. Paradoxically, despite that, fitness was much improved. Both of the drawn games were achieved after coming from behind to grab late goals. We were schizophrenic. Under Smiffy, no question, we would have lost both games. It helped that none of the teams played (Tottenham, Sunderland, Birmingham, Manchester City and Southampton) were considered amongst the better teams. Perhaps this gave sufficient transition time for the team to settle without a demoralising defeat by one of the better sides. And our team pattern WAS more coherent, passing more accurate. So maybe it was a necessary learning curve. At least that is how we reassured ourselves.

Then we go and beat The Smoggies, lose maddeningly at Villa, beat Fulham and lose widely but very undeservedly against the Mancs. It looked as though we weren’t going to get off the roller coaster any time soon. Abnormal service was seemingly restored.

Still, by now we had one of the great discoveries of the season, a real Rolls Royce of a player, Joey Yobo, humming along beautifully. Behind him, Wrighty’s confidence increased with every game, as did Tony Hibbert’s at right back. Unsy was born again hard and solid, accurate long passing restored. Both Davey and Stubbsy thrived on Joey’s game. The midfield was making up for obvious deficiencies by chasing everything and not giving the ball away too much. The Gravedigger had changed from a flake populist into a player with concentration, something I thought well beyond him. Li Tie’s enthusiasm was as infectious as Moyesy’s. Lee Carsley did Good Soldier Schweik guard duty on the right flank. Pembo was cracking over corners and free kicks better than anybody in the league. Toby looked as solid as a rock until he got injured. And up front The Rad and SuperKev were causing mayhem if they got the right service. But it wasn’t reflected in results. All the time, hovering on the bench was Wayne Rooney, The Duke himself…………………………

The next match was against the Gooners. Many of us expected us to get massacred, me included. They hadn’t lost in months and were playing classical footy, something we didn’t associate with Arsenal until half way through last season. By the time our home game came around the Gooners were purring like a curl of contented fat cats. At least they were until the arrival of a tiger cub scattered them in all directions and scored a well-nigh unbelievable winner in the closing minutes. The Duke had arrived and the footy world went gaga. It was the very stuff of footy folk-lore.

To our amazement this took us on a run of six straight wins including another Dook winner at Elland Road. We hadn’t managed to do this since the unwelcome establishment of the Scab League. Our fans looked and sounded bemused as West Ham were seen off as usual, then the Leeds hoodoo finally disappeared into ancient history, and then Charlton, Blackburn and West Brom went the way of the others. The Skunks were disposed of in the Worthless Cup. Nor was the run a fluke. The displays were lively and solid with flashes of really good footy. The unevenness of the first phase games was partly eliminated. The team was playing to its maximum abilities, full of spirit and fighting qualities. No wonder our fans were goggle-eyed. This was unexpected and unknown territory.

Appropriately the run concluded at Newcastle, an ugly venue these days thanks to fractious idiots in police uniform. It might be better if all fans boycotted the place until there is a semblance of common sense in the behaviour of the constabulary, many of whom seem to get their vocation and organisation from the nearest dog pound. But it took a special goal to get The Skunks level, a Shearer volley which was probably the best goal of its type I have ever seen, and a lousy scrambled lucky effort for the winner, both of them in the last four minutes. For us, even more important was the loss of unmatchable Joey to a red card. Unsy got his fifth yellow too. The ten men played magnificently though.

Then we lost twice to the Bates Motel. First in the League Cup when Moyesy experimented with 4-3-3 and lost 4-1, and then at home in the league by 3-1 and Unsy got sent off. For us the first match was a decisive moment because it seemed to prove that The Rad, SuperKev and The Duke couldn’t play as a threesome. I have no idea why the chemistry isn’t there. The fact remains that it isn’t. Maybe it has to do with our lack of strong talent in midfield and subsequent lack of support for our attacking players. We all assumed the experiment wouldn’t be repeated in a hurry.

Equilibrium was restored with an unfair victory over Blackburn at GP. No question The Cloggies were robbed, but so what? I can’t recall any sympathy last season when we lost in similar circumstances at aptly named Ewood Park. The match featured another brilliant Duke goal and astonishing all-round display. Even the media didn’t seem inclined to begrudge us some good fortune.

Meanwhile, the pinkies had seemingly declined in near precipitous fashion. If true, it set up a very interesting derby meet at Analfield. If their display was anything to go by, the reports were accurate. We were entitled to feel annoyed with only a 0-0 draw and more appalling refereeing. It wasn’t much of a match though and it only served to confirm that our midfield weaknesses had reappeared in spades.

So we played out an unspeakable 1-1 draw at unspeakable, horrible Birmingham. The Duke added to his CV when he got sent off. Then again, we weren’t losing. Even while we played badly we at least knew the team wouldn’t fold if things got difficult.

The year’s programme finally closed with a second successive draw, this time 0-0 against relegation candidates Bolton. It was a match we should have won by some distance. But once again our centre midfield had little to offer and we dropped another two points despite battering them almost into oblivion.

I think the second half of the season will hinge on how the players react when the novelty of Moyesy’s management methods wear off, and how we deal during the opening of the so-called “transfer window.” It is patently obvious the present centre midfield players are not a long term solution, though Li Tie might well improve after he has acclimatised more.

Don’t listen to the moaners and whiners. Such people look for the kind of playing perfection which doesn’t exist. Our run of six successive wins was no fluke. It was well earned and well deserved despite tinges of luck. Chance works both ways. Ask the current Arsenal team, one of the best I have ever seen. I didn’t hear the same dickheads saying the opposite when luck turned against us in the last few weeks of the year. Nor do the same dicksplats say anything about the bad luck we had in some of our defeats. For all our defects we are fourth absolutely on merit. The table never lies.

Of course this is not to say we can maintain this form, though Moyesy has made it crystal clear he will be damned annoyed if we don’t.

So far it has been the kind of revival we could only dream of. Where people like me had been saying, “There’s no such thing as a magic wand, you know,” along comes Moyesy and, erm, waves a magic wand. Actually of course it had more to do with replacing Walter Smith’s tired and unimaginative approach with an ambitious, well-prepared and determined youthful outlook. Legend, perhaps myth, has it that in his latter days training was reduced to him throwing a pile of balls onto the Bellfield pitch with instructions to, “Get on with it.”

At the same time it would be fair to question the approach of players who didn’t perform so well under Walter. It would be stupid to think Moyesy didn’t exchange words with him about the situation before they went their separate ways. If they did, maybe there’s some truth in the story that Moyesy assembled the players and told them, “Right. You fuckers got us into this situation. Now you fuckers can get us out of it.” I would love to think the story holds some truth.

If the appointment does indeed turn out to be as successful as it first appears, then the fans owe a huge amount to the directors who decided on the switch and chose Moyesy. If the directors deserve criticism for previous inaction they plainly deserve credit for moving when they did.

There’s no question the players are much fitter under David Moyes and his staff. The players’ attitude seems to be much better too. They now play with shape and form, as a team. Still there have been inevitable injuries. Pembridge, Rodrigo, The Big Yin (!), Chadwick and Hibbert have all fallen prey to it. Even Joey took his time getting over an early season knock. Pistone eventually got himself back into classy action. But all the signs are that Moyesy’s new fitness regime will make this more acceptable and maybe even more manageable.

And he really has managed to restore individual and collective pride in the players. The knock-on affect among the fans too has been absolutely inspiring. Evertonians have not felt so good since the FA Cup win in 1995 and the league position of sixth. The next test will be to see if the team can make the necessary transition in players, formation and approach. I haven’t the slightest doubt Moyesy has a very clear idea of how he wants to go about it. The real test will come in how flexible he is when (inevitably) he takes a wrong turning. Every great manager in any discipline has these moments. The truly great ones acknowledge it and adjust accordingly. This is one of the areas where Walter Smith came unstuck.

The way I see it, both Bill Kenwright and Paul Gregg also have been on an owners’ learning curve. They have made mistakes. Gregg had the commonsensical grace to say as much to me in interview. But they have learned, the mistakes seared home by adversity, some of it quite desparate. Anybody who has failed to note the changes in both men simply hasn’t been paying attention.

The move to Kings Dock came another step closer to reality with Bill Kenwright’s pre-holiday announcement that a financial deal was almost sealed. He also said the same thing to regeneration company Liverpool Vision. All of which means this is ABSOLUTELY his last open opportunity, since “preferred bidder” status expires at the end of 2002. Any further attempts to drag out the situation will be met with justified public derision. But the brutal reality is (as I warned months ago) that EFC have always held most of the development cards. Without us, the much-needed proposed scheme cannot proceed.

And whatever anyone else says there will be no speculative arena on the site. Paul Gregg and Kenwright’s showbiz connections are vital for its overall success. For all that, BK doesn’t have many cards left to play. The situation has now reached eye ball to eye ball. It isn’t a question of who blinks first, it is a question of who gets more bored with waiting, development details aside. Until then, absurd propaganda is churned out to keep local information clerks and gossips in a job. In the meantime the planning application has been postponed for the fourth time (!), this time until May 2003 – all of which means the first game is unlikely to be played in the stadium/arena until 2007, unless it is occupied half way through season 2006-2007.

Earlier, Paul Gregg’s “reverse mortgage” funding proposal had split the board of directors decisively. It was a long overdue and much required seminal moment. Maybe that’s why it was precipitated. Having interviewed most (but not all) of the leading characters in the drama I think I am entitled to describe it as an equivalent of the Middlesbrough cup-tie at boardroom level. By season’s end one of the likely results will be seismic changes in ownership percentages and directors.

We must hope the club’s public relations/corporate affairs remain in the hands of Ian Ross. Ever since his appointment he has had to handle a seemingly never-ending series of nightmares. Frequently I suspect he has been dealing with at least one hand tied behind his back while wearing a blindfold. Where he was able, he has dealt with near faultless professionalism. It is impossible to please everybody in such a position, particularly if critics are operating from minimal knowledge. But footy’s like that. All too frequently too many fans act with compelling if quite useless passion. More often than not you need grace under pressure. Or, to use an old scousism, you need to keep a cool head in your kecks. More than anyone else Ian Ross gets a battering from both sides of the tracks. Next time you feel obliged to criticise him try to put yourself in his position. I know I couldn’t do his job to save my life. I don’t tolerate idiots easily. And it is always much worse when results go against us.

All in all, then, our beloved club apparently has advanced wonderfully well in the unlikely period of eight short months. Apocalypse isn’t Now. The old nightmare of Peter Johnson’s ownership seems to be receding at last. By season’s end we will know how much is mirage, how much reality. If we can finish in the top eight I will count that a major coup. Anything higher will be astonishing. After that, it seems Moyesy will have his work cut out in assembling a younger team to replace the older players who can’t hack it any longer. Clearly, the present team could not be expected to last long in the remote event of European competition. We have at least six players in their thirties. The never-ending cycle will have to begin again.

We wouldn’t have it any other way. But don’t go looking for perfection. If you do, you’ll turn into one of the carping moaners who dog every club. (01/01/03)

What do you think? Have your say! e-mail Blue Kipper

Last Season's Half-Time Whistle                                       Last Season's Full Season Review

|Jogger's Snapshots | Young Toffeemen |Sting Ray| Sausage's Sandwiches |Cod Pieces|
 |Captain Haddock |Look-A-Likes|  |Top Toffee Ale 'ouses |Home|
e-mail bluekipper.com