Down Outside Albion

New Everton Website Launches

2009-10-27T07:22:00.000-04:00

The new Everton website Dixie's Sixty has launched, it comes from the writing team of Ed and Peter Bottomley - looks pretty nifty - and promises to provide a positive counterweight to moany kvetch-filled sites like ToffeeWeb...

Coming Soon: Everton's Top 60 Players

2009-10-27T02:16:00.000-04:00

To celebrate the launch of new Everton Website Dixie's 60 we'll be covering the Top 60 Everton FC players. Ed Bottomley's previous Top 50 Toffees written for the Times Online caused quite a bit of controversy - we'll see if this one does the same when it is published.

Four Reasons Goodison Will Never Leave Everton's Heart

2009-10-05T12:58:00.003-04:00

This was published on the Times Online's Fanzine Fanzone Last Week...

The Four Sides To Goodison Park

At the mere mention Goodison Park, my mind spins like a roulette wheel. Goodison has created a mountain of moments and her wingspan touches three separate centuries. Monarchs have strolled through Goodison's stands, and its fans have crowned blue legends on Goodison's green turf. The architect Archibald Leitch gave Goodison its shape, and hundreds of players painted memories onto the blank canvas.

My first memory is of grappling with a tight Le Coq Sportif shirt in the mid eighties. It was annoyingly restrictive, uncomfortably itchy, but still had my child's heart drumming staccato beats with excitement. The shirt gave me a taste of what it was to be an Evertonian.

I remember too some of my favourite games: Duncan Ferguson rising head and shoulders above everyone to score, Danny Cadamarteri, a roadrunner of a player, scoring an adrenaline encrusted goal against Liverpool, Limpar diving, Farrelly shanking, Southall stretching, and Rooney scoring against a death proof Arsenal. The one common factor, the glorious backdrop to all of these memories, is Goodison Park.

Only a few weeks remain until what will probably be the most important event of our season - a decision on "Destination Kirkby" and with it the possibility of leaving Goodison. Here are four moments, not definitive by any stretch, but all very different, showing four sides to Goodison Park.

I. Dixie’s Sixty
May 5th 1928, Everton 3-3 Arsenal

"The crowd invaded the pitch and I got more whiskers on my face from the Scotland Road lads than Soft Joe." Dean on scoring his record breaking 60th goal in one season.

In May 1928 Bill Dean, one of history's most ravenous goal scorers and an Evertonian to the marrow, was at the end of his greatest season. Dean was a spluttering, roaring muscle-car of a player and by the time the final game against Arsenal came hurtling around the corner he was on 57 goals, a hat-trick away from breaking George Camsell's record of 59 (and Camsell had set his record in the division below).

Everton had already won the league by then. All eyes were on Dixie. He had sustained a muscle injury in the previous game against Burnley, and Everton's trainer Harry Cooke kept a bedside vigil; waking Dean every three hours to apply a new warm bandage to make sure.

Arsenal managed to take the lead after just two minutes but Dixie equalized quickly after and then scored just before half time. One can only imagine the blue throng squeezed into Goodison, and how they must have exhaled as one, screaming for their hero when he got his hat-trick with just eight minutes to go. The goal was courtesy of Alec Troup, who according to Dixie "was so precise with these corners that he could have laid the ball on one of the hairs on my head." Dixie, ever modest for a man of such talent, claimed that he "just butted the ball in."

It was the perfect denouement to a season of compulsive goal scoring. In 39 League Games Bill Dean - on eight pounds a week - scored 60 goals.

Although his goal tally that season was his crowning achievement, Dean's entire career is a blizzard of impressive numbers won during an era of tough physical football. Dean had 15 major operations in his career, he even lost a testicle after a rough challenge whilst at Tranmere. Dean once spoke of 42 professionals on Everton's books in one season, such was the number of serious injuries. Dixie rattled up 100 league goals before he turned 21 and 349 League goals in 399 games. Amazingly, Dean scored 37 true hat-tricks during his career - and he scored with a smile - showing the kind of sporting joie de vivre that links Dean to people like the racing driver Fangio - who used to chirrup, sing, and bounce on his seat during races.

Dixie went from 0-60 in one season, and no-one would ever do it quicker...

II. Garrincha at Goodison
July 12th 1966, Brazil 2-0 Bulgaria

"BRAZILIANS DELIRIOUS OVER YOU STOP KISSES IN THE HEART STOP CRIOULA" – Telegram sent by Garrincha’s wife Elza after the Brazil's win over Bulgaria at Goodison.

Elza was - of course - toying with the truth a little. Brazil were not convincing against Bulgaria, they were eleven men that had never played together before. They won thanks to a Pele and Garrincha free kick; Garrincha's corkscrewed toward goal-net; these two legends never lost a game for Brazil while playing together. Garrincha’s first and only loss came against Hungary in their next World Cup game and it was to be his last game for Brazil.

Goodison saw Garrincha well past his prime, his bent legs - the cause of his unique balance, were also the reason for his bad knees. The CBD only picked him for the Brazil squad out of a combination of pity and blind hope. Study video of the Bulgaria game though and you still see more than a glimmer of this prototype for all wide boys; he was the original card shark. Despite his knees, despite his liver, he was still tabasco and black coffee, and still torturing defenders with his cute but devastating skill.

Garrincha's journey stalled at the junction of catastrophe and brilliance. The man kept his earnings squirreled away in the back of the sofa, stuffed under urine soaked mattresses, and in fruit bowls – forgotten about until they were worthless rotten paper...Garrincha clearly loved the ball, but he was indifferent about the game swirling around it.

As for Pele, he never played at Wembley, even in a friendly, but he played at our Goodison. Biographer Ruy Castro says that “For Garrincha, sex was a sport that gave him as much pleasure as football.” He must have been licking his lips and tapping his feet at the prospect of combining his two loves on landing in England, the epicenter of the Swinging 60’s. Tragically for Garrincha, Brazil's home base was Lymm – 188miles away from London's lascivious swinging bell bottoms.

The man with bent legs was a reluctant star, but the best... His unfinished career was beautiful, like the half completed Gaudi church. Predicting which way he was about to turn was like predicting a Jackson Pollock paint dribble, and Goodison had the privilege of meeting him.

III.Escape on the last day - Barry Horne
May 5th 1994, Everton 3-2 Wimbledon

Really? Did he REALLY score that goal, the goal that pulled us out of the relegation mire on the last day of the season?

Somehow, dog of war Barry Horne channelled Graeme Sharp and Marco Van Basten as he lashed the ball in. He was a mongrel painting the Sistine Chapel. More skilled players can take a lift to elite football but Barry Horne had to take the stairs to become a top level professional.

The match itself was craziest of all games; we were an own-goal and a penalty down to glass-chewing, route one Wimbledon. We managed to scrape our way back through a penalty earned through a dive, and equalized with a Barry Horne's wonder shot, a goal that had been gestating inside him for his whole career. Miles out, Horne bounced the ball of his thigh and thwacked the ball, clipping the ball round the ears and sending it scurrying home. Graeme Stuart scored the winner, with a shot that Hans Segers could have saved in his sleep, but no keeper stood a chance against Barry Horne's equalizer.

It was the first time I tasted Champagne, but we were celebrating an awful season. There is a dash of Dunkirk about all relegation escapes, they are glorious failures, and this was a wonderful end to a woeful season.

IV. A Gift from Joseph Yobo
August 13 2005, Everton 0-2 Manchester United

Against Arsenal (like Dixie), Wayne Rooney became a household name by chucking a football shaped fist through televisions and into living rooms up and down the country. Clive Tyldesley may have sealed the deal by whinnying "Remember the name!..." after Rooney scored his first, but Wayne put his name in lights when, moments after chipping Seaman, he had the tried do it again.

The young Scouser was bouncing around like a videogame character, somehow transplanted into a world of professional footballers, and his feet did what legions of teenagers with their XBox thumbs could only dream of doing. To chip Seaman once at that age was precocious, to chip him twice, and see the ball stray just a pixel too high, was amazing. It was AUDACITY with the Caps Lock on. After Rooney left Everton I was haunted by his cheeky brilliance, he was a baby Hercules, thumping defenders over the head and using them as rattles. I was scared stiff that his first goal against us would be as wonderful as his first against Arsenal. As it turned out, his goal was a gift from a former teammate; Yobo played Jeeves to Rooney's Bertie Wooster - handing him a goal on a silver platter.

There is a small sign that hovers over Joey Yobo's head that notes the number of days since his last accident, against United his sign re-set to zero. Yobo, a lanky quick defender, has always been prone to occasional lapses and navel gazing. It was an unfortunate accident, an ooops of a pass that wasn't so much defence splitting as condom splitting. Yobo literally slid the ball square to a free Rooney, Seeing HIM score for THEM enraged Goodison, and they won that game 2-0. Goodison's stands creaked, the fans groaned and seethed - but his first goal could have been worse. Maybe Joey Yobo did us all a favour by taking the sting out of Rooney's first goal against Everton.

----

Goodison is comfy and old, but it is easy to forget what a cutting edge stadium it once was. Splitting from her will be painful – if only because we need to get to know and love the new ground all over again…

We may be mixing with cold-blooded billionaire run teams with Hollywood smiles, but I'm proud of our tousled hair, our snaggletoothed grin, and of our Goodison....

Work permit denied for self abusing Argie

2009-08-21T15:12:00.004-04:00

Toffeeweb, always first off the mark with any juicy gossip, reckon that bishop basher extraordinaire Ever Banega's work permit has been denied. Everton will have to now lodge an appeal.

UPDATE: The above is a load of gubbins, the Daily Mail brings us the real story:

But Manchester sports lawyer Chris Farnell successfully argued for the permit to be approved during a hearing at the Premier League HQ.

Ever Banega could be a disasterous "car crash" at Everton

2009-08-21T09:57:00.002-04:00

Everton head to today's work permit hearing for Valencia's Ever Banega amid claims that the young Argentinian could be "a car crash" in the Premier League.

Hot on the heels of this article claiming that the 21 year old left Argentina too early, that he had a dodgy childhood, and that he is "too weird" to succeed comes Guardian football expert Dr Sid Lowe's tuppence worth.

In the Guardian's Football Weekly podcast Dr Lowe gives his opinion:

"I personally think that Banega is a very talented footballer, he moves the ball very nicely. There have been one or two occasions when he's looked like a genuinely good player, both at Atletico and Valencia...BUT the key word there is 'one or two'...I think he's not that good, I think he finds the Spanish game too quick and therefore would probably find the English game too quick as well. I think he is potentially a very very good player but I think he is also potentially a car crash."

Most Evertonians also know about Banega's Ashley Young-style "web shame" where he was captured peeling the eel and grunting violently, but it could his online antics just be the tip of the iceberg?...

Prediction: Liverpool Star To Move To Man City?

2009-08-18T11:43:00.002-04:00

...Not in this transfer window, but next summer. With Rafa having failed again to grab the Premier League, and with Aquilani getting cozy with the treatment table, Gerrard's relationship with Benitez will come under increasing pressure. No normal club would willingly shell out cash on an aging Gerrard (he'll be 30 next summer) but Man City aren't a normal club.

I predict that Stevie G will be swept off his feet by Sheikh Mansour in the summer of 2010.

Everton - The Ship Isn't Sinking

2009-08-18T10:11:00.001-04:00

Our end game of last season was the Cup Final, a match which Chelsea deservedly won. It was OK though, our run to the final had been heroic, and as I watched our glum chain gang lope up the stairs to claim their runners up medals, most were consoled by the fact that next season our spine would be back. I suppose I was deluding myself, because our spine – Jagielka, Arteta, Yakubu – won’t be back for a while yet. Not to worry though, we’ve signed some new players haven’t we? Well no, not really... with only days to go until the transfer window slams down on us – we have no signings...

And yet I still have faith that we’ll do well. Contrary to popular opinion, Lescott was one of our better players on Saturday (not saying much I know), we appear – at the last minute – to finally have some money to throw around (sharp whispers ricochet around the web – “Kenwright doesn’t like signing players early, because then he has to play their wages for the whole summer” “We’ve finally secured a loan against our Sky TV dosh”), and crucially, this is the early season Everton we all know well. Moyes’ sides always seem to start badly, and only once the Scot has navigated the maze of problems that seem to pop up like eager weeds, can we settle down and let the momentum build. In many ways this is business as usual at Goodison.
Lescott is far from our only problem; Sheikh Mansour’s money may have twisted his head, but all of our defence looked like they had their heads on backwards against Arsenal. It is becoming increasingly apparent that Cahill and Fellaini can’t be crow barred into Moyes’ 4-5-1 together and we look weak along our right side - Lescott’s transfer to City has the press antennae twitching, but we can only hope that Naughton’s failed move to Goodison might wake Hibbert out of his slumber.

Getting smashed by Arsenal is also nothing new to us – 4-1 and 7-0 score lines still stick in our throats. If we come into games like this lurching into blood curdling tackles and hectoring them all over the field, we may have a chance. But relaxing against Arsenal, trying to out-play them, is never an option and left us with red cheeks atop our blue shirts. It was a woeful result, but in this crazed see-saw of a league, this could easily be the kick up the backside we need.

Two statistics on this game say everything, Arsenal had 9 shots on target – and scored 6 of them. Last season, when they beat us 3-1 at the Wengerdome – they had 11 shots on target. Saturday was an exercise in surgical efficiency from them and dozy defending from us, let’s not pick at this wound too much. The other interesting statistic is that not a single Everton player got booked. Not even Fellaini, who usually sprinkles the turf with grenade pins, saw yellow. An Everton side stripped of that aggressive edge isn’t going to be able to compete with the top sides.

This ship isn’t sinking; we’re just facing a bloody strong headwind.

Oi, Hughes! No Means No!

2009-08-14T10:06:00.004-04:00

David Moyes, the man who had the temerity to say no to Mark Hughes, let rip today - and I love him even more for it. According to every news source with a pulse, Moyes has torn "Sparky" a new one for not understanding the word "no"...

The Independent's Paul Walker writes:

Moyes, preparing his side for tomorrow's season opener at home to Arsenal, launched a bitter attack on Hughes and City.

He said: "There is no dialogue between us and Manchester City as far as I know.

"Maybe City are having dialogue with somebody else, but it is not between me and City.

"He (Hughes) said they were talking to people who make the decisions here. Well he knows who makes the decisions at Everton and it is me.

"He has never once picked up the phone and given me a call, so he is not going to get the answer. I am the one who makes the decisions here, not like other clubs.

"It has disrupted us. They have been talking about it and we have not been talking about the start of the season, that has been disruptive. So maybe that is what the overall plan was."

Moyes added: "I look back and see how Real Madrid did their business with Manchester United (over Ronaldo). It was done at the tail end of the season, and it was done quickly to allow United to buy if they wanted to do so.

"We cannot be getting offers a week or two to go before the end of the deadline. And the offers they made shows that we value Joleon Lescott far higher than they do.

"Joleon is a massive player for us, we think so much of him and do not want to lose him.

"The players here think so much of him, and as a (coaching) staff we do.

"His head has been twisted and I cannot say the way things have been done is right, it is not how we do things at this club.

"But maybe their football club is different, I control things here, maybe it is not quite the same there."

How many times does Moyes have to tell Hughes that Lescott isn't for sale? Should he carve it onto Hughes' forehead with a Victorinox? And isn't it brilliant that are next game after Arsenal is Man City away?

Mark Hughes: Blithering Idiot

2009-08-13T12:43:00.002-04:00

Mark Hughes' antics remind me of a scene from Dumb and Dumber:

Lloyd: What do you think the chances are of a guy like you and a girl like me... ending up together?
Mary: Well, Lloyd, that's difficult to say. I mean, we don't really...
Lloyd: Hit me with it! Just give it to me straight! I came a long way just to see you, Mary. The least you can do is level with me. What are my chances?
Mary: Not good.
Lloyd: You mean, not good like one out of a hundred?
Mary: I'd say more like one out of a million.
[pause]
Lloyd: So you're telling me there's a chance...

Meanwhile, Football 365's Mediawatch nicely points out the raving hypocrisy of Hughes, claiming that he doesn't talk about players he wants, and then going and talking about Lescott. Again. And again. And again.

The Mirror outdoes even Football 365 though with an article claiming that Man City want to have a butcher's at Joleon Lescott's medical records before they put in another bid....hmmm. I wonder what Moyesie makes of this:

Manchester City want to see England centre half Joleon Lescott's medical records - before making a new and even bigger bid for him.
City officials want to clear up concerns about Lescott's historic knee problems and will make the unusual move of asking to check on him ahead of any further offer.
Mark Hughes's club are already willing to pay £18 million and will go to £22 million if they are satisfied that Lescott has no long-standing problems.
The idea of looking at the confidential documents is to avoid the embarassment of making a huge bid and then possibly seeing the player sent back as damaged goods if he 'failed' the actual medical.
However Everton will be reluctant to part with the information, especially as boss David Moyes is determined to hold on to Lescott at any price.

The Joleon Question - Three sides to the story

2009-08-13T11:08:00.000-04:00

This was originally published on the Times Fanzine Fanzone Page.

And it continues...Lescott wants to leave, Moyes doesn't want to sell, and Hughes is still returning with bids for the player. The harder Moyes rejects the bids the more the Welshman boomerangs back. Hughes' bids amount to Chinese Water Torture; an incessant drip - intriguing Lescott and annoying Moyes in equal measure. All this is surrounded by hordes of blithering idiots, who munch unquestioningly over the daily tabloids. It's impossible to know what is happening at the centre of the storm, but here are three views...

I. Mark Hughes is a pillock.

A dangerous pillock who won't take no for an answer in the worst way, a transfer rapist. His mumbled admiration for Lescott, and his clumsy public bluff (claiming that he'll move on to other transfer targets if something isn't settled soon) are brazen brushstrokes on a backdrop of Moyes' blanket rejection.
Behind the quiet steely front, the iron curtain that is the Welshman's atrophied face, complete with brillo pad hair and a crack of a mouth permanently on the verge of succumbing to lockjaw, lies a scared man out of his depth and bereft of imagination. A man who, somehow, despite having an oily ocean of millions to spend, cannot look beyond Everton's second best defender as a transfer target.
Moyes is jealously annoyed with Hughes for several reasons. Hughes has a bulging war chest, Moyes has a pittance. City were midtable but got bought by very rich men, Everton have been camped in fifth place for two seasons but cannot find a buyer. The day after Moyes claimed that none of his players were for sale, Hughes thrust a cheeky £15 million Lescott bid under the Scot's nose. Moyes was already having a barrel-scrapingly bad summer in terms of transfers, most notably being gazumped by Tottenham over Kyle Naughton, and now this?? He had promised players like Jagielka and Arteta - signed to long term contracts - that Everton weren't a selling club. Moyes had to deal with no strikers last year, does he really want to risk playing with no defenders this time around?
Moyes views Lescott - a polyglot defender who can play centrally or on the left - as essential to the team, and is backed up by a fanbase who are prepared to sing for their stopper, even if his head is being turned. Lescott is meek,and its a world cup year so if Moyes keeps him, he won't be able to let his form dip if he wants to make the squad.

Despite all this Hughes continues his lusty groping and refusing to take no for an answer.

II. David Moyes is a pillock.

Moyes knows that Lescott wants to leave, and has known for some time. He could sign a cheap player who could fill in for Jagielka until his return from injury, and then act as cover for Jagielka and Yobo at the back. The money from Lescott could have gone towards upwardly mobile youths (Elm, Delph, Naughton) , big names we've been known to want (Moutinho, Sessegnon, Defour), or even to secure Jo on a permanent deal. Moyes is the unwanted side in a love triangle, acting like a shunned boyfriend; refusing to accept that the relationship is over.
Moyes is swiftly becoming a rusty haired anachronism - you cannot tell players no these days, we are the generation whose fans give their souls but not their bodies, and whose players give their bodies but not their souls. Lescott is a professional who has been told he cannot move to new employers who are willing to double his wages. Only in football would this be seen as acceptable. Simon Kuper recently wrote that managers should "be as eager to sell good players as to buy them." Moyes should listen.

Despite all this Moyes continues to cling to Lescott, refusing to give yes for an answer.

III. Joleon Lescott is a pillock.

Under Moyes' protective wing he has improved immeasurably, cemented a spot in the fifth best team in the land, and fought his way to deserved international recognition. Lescott's desire to go to Man City (or "Money City" as Kolo Toure accidentally called them) begins and ends with the promise of a fat paycheque. Take money out of the equation and Lescott would turn his nose up at a move to Eastlands. No one can predict how the Man City experiment will turn out this season, and he could be plunging head first into a sea of chaos. Joleon is mistaking ambition for greed, and I would love to see the wording of his transfer request.
Lescott's timing is also atrocious with days remaining until the start of the season and he should be vilified for handing in a written transfer request whilst away on international duty. Lescott is risking a career with the best young manager in the British Isles and a more stable club for a crazed menagerie of blustering egos; its tantamount to a small kid's desire to run away and join the circus.

Despite all this Lescott continues to cling to his transfer demands, refusing to take no for an answer.

Ed Bottomley

Holiday Blues in Detroit

2009-08-12T16:37:00.000-04:00

"Dee-troit has some great teeth… she’s just got a lot missing too."

The driver tossed this witty nugget into the backseat of the taxi, he was a small man whose mood could be entirely gauged by his grip on the steering wheel.

They say that if you want a good tour of a city, take a taxi. And I had never been to the centre of Motown so I thought I’d give it a go. This is a city with a rich history but a non-existent bank balance — a city whose (now ex) Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick was someone definitely in the Peter Johnson mould, screwing Detroit out of money in a multitude of ways; slapping dishonesty on top of mismanagement in a gruesome layer cake of political skullduggery — and also a city that is 3,000 miles from my Blue Boys — but very close in many ways.

I took the taxi tour to try and distract myself from Everton, but I should have known better. Holidays have always been a time to obsess over football, with the absence of actual games being instead filled with relentless sound of transfer tongue wagging. Back home I remember descending into a summer holiday frenzy of day-long Teletext vigils, pouring over tiny rumours in the Liverpool Echo, and the evil and legendary Clubcall (where a titillating transfer ad lured you into an extortionate 5 minute call in which the utterly fictitious transfer target was only divulged after an excruciating wait.) Both Clubcall and Teamtalk were as ubiquitous as the Nigerian prince emailing for your bank a/c details, and oceans of adolescent football fans fell for this ruse.

When abroad on my July hols, I used to pour over overpriced tabloids, days old, the text blanched by the sun, but still redolent with bullshit. And therein lies the problem, the summer months are so lacking in any proper club football, that fans are baying for any transfer news whatsoever, and we work ourselves into such a crazed and ravenous state that any rumours will do. Rejections by players, whether perceived or real, therefore hurt more — we can’t wash away the pain with a 3-0 victory, we just sit there marinating in our own fears and worries, waiting for the season to start.

The summer is such a strange time to be an Everton fan. Despite constantly breaking our transfer records (AJ, Beattie, Yakubu, Fellaini) we still feel a sense of missing out. The grass is always greener next door, and the signings we narrowly miss out on are always the missing links — the players who would have propelled us to the “next level” — the likes of Sean Davis, Moutinho, Fernandes and Naughton. As the summer rolls by Evertonians' faces begin to grimace tightly like clenched fists, ready to blame the powers at be for inactivity.

The focus moves from our overachieving team, to the nebulous hunt for new recruits. David Moyes, the most dynamic young manager in the league, being headhunted by Man Utd as the Lord of the Ferg’s successor, somehow morphs into Dithering Dave in the summer sun; only eclipsed by Bill Kenwright — the potless refusenik who turns away rich investors in droves…

Like the spoiled kid who rushes to the door when a relative visits, hands out, demanding “what present did you bring me this time!?!” – we have a strong sense of entitlement at Everton. Most of us believe that it is our manifest destiny to be in the top four, even though as a team without money we are footballing Neanderthals walking amongst billionaire oligarchs. There is also an equally powerful demand for new signings, we wave away claims that returning stars will be “like new players” – even though returning Arteta, Yakubu, and Jagielka to a team is like putting an engine back in a car, and we discount the fact that our young team is growing and improving together.

Nope, the only thing that will slake our transfer bloodlust is signings, not loans, not freebies, big glittering signings. If Moyes had signed Jo for £20 million rather than somehow again bagging him on loan from City, maybe that would have shut people up. Just as Tony Hibbert still larrups the ball up to the ghost of Duncan Ferguson, we still demand transfers as if we were still the Merseyside Millionaires.

Every so often I would come back to the real world, and remember that I was sitting in the back of a Detroit cab - I couldn’t stop thinking about Everton but my mind needed occasional respite from worrying about the Merseysiders. I was driven past the crumbling facade of once glorious and historic Tiger stadium, Joe DiMaggio played there and it opened the same week that the Titanic sank. All of which pried open thoughts about Goodison, and Kirkby. It seemed that all roads in Detroit led to Goodison, even the most obtuse sight would trigger thoughts of my Blues.

The lavish beauty of Detroit's Guardian Building also woke me from my daydreams - an Aztec Art Deco skyscraper. It rivals New York’s Chrysler Building, maybe even betters it, but it is an unknown pearl. This ornate, pre-Wall Street crash, Babel is a 36 floor ode to the possibilities of a blank chequebook – but also a reminder that the sky is no longer the limit; a building of such glaring opulence couldn’t be built today. Are we as Everton fans asking for a Guardian building, when in our current state the most we should expect is sensible, solid and firm architecture?

Like Detroit, Evertonians are chained to the past, tied to Nil Satis Nisi Optimum – four Latin words which somehow trump Moyes’ hand crafted team. MacGyver Moyes has cobbled together a team of belligerent Gadflies, but still we want more, it’s in our blood, and the more we chant our motto like a mantra, “Nil Satis Nisi Optimum” , “Nil Satis Nisi Optimum” , the more we think it will come true. Marooned like Bligh, isolated like Kurtz, we are charting a unique course, the fourth most successful team in England, without the cash that is seemingly needed to play the game of football these days, but we’re trying.

We look distinctly Clark Kent during the summer, and its only when the season begins that we shamble into the nearest phone box and come out a chest puffing Superman. Detroit's gappy smile is shared by the rictus grin of rickety Goodison, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. As I left the city, and clambered out of the cab, the taxi driver looked at me with the same thousand yard stare, daydreaming about something, he was clearly somewhere else too…

ED BOTTOMLEY

Is Lescott Loyal to the Lucre?

2009-07-06T04:12:00.001-04:00

Loyal to the Lucre?

Whilst summer rolls into action many Blue websites have been indulging in Evertonians' favourite warm-weather pastime: Kenwright kvetching. Some anticipate a summer of scraping around for money, missing out on signings, and seeing our Chairman fail - once more - to sell the club. I'm actually glad Kenwright has failed to flog our beloved Toffees, and because of that, in my eyes he is the perfect Chairman...

If Kenwright is unqualified to run our club, then why is a rich Sheik more acceptable? Would a moneybags owner shed blue tears when we lost to Chelsea? Would he be able to wax lyrical about Mikel Arteta, comparing him to Alex Young like Kenwright did? The sad truth is a Chairman’s success is totally dependent on his money, and his ability to attract investment if he has no money himself. I see it a different way though. Yes, Kenwright’s theatrical tendencies make for ridiculous sound bites: “watch this space”, “I’m working 24/7 to sell this club.” are both embarrassing public belches – but the fact that Kenwright hasn’t been able to find a buyer is a bonus.

I do not want a billionaire at Everton. For all those people moaning about a move to Kirkby, selling to a Sheik would be the ultimate sell out - he would own our soul. The last few years have seen several filthy rich oil-igarchs waddle over the horizon, and the problem is their ridiculous appetite and their crazed shotgun approach to transfers, spraying bids everywhere. It's strange to think that we may look upon our fifth placed finishes as "the good old days". Days where we fielded a team of honest, well drilled pros, players who we love and who love us, rather than multi-millionaire drones. When we ask for our billionaire saviour - do we really want to enter that world, of Glazers, Gillettes, and Kenyons? A world of shelling out and selling out, of many rubles, no scruples, and gluttonous gloating. I would rather watch a snuff movie starring my parents.

If a white knight with wads of cash did come to Goodison, Moyes would undoubtedly face a different climate - no more late night pillow talk with Kenwright and - ironically - just as many stipulations and restrictions on spending. We are potless, but if we became Mersey Millionaires again, would Moyes have full control over signings? ...And the funniest thing? We might not even finish fifth! Worth selling our souls for that? Some quarters of Goodison fight so hard against Kirkby, and demand we stay at Goodison. And yet they have no problem praying at night for a billionaire who will suck away the essence of our club, even though we’d have a roulette wheel of playing staff, unnatural pressures on Moyes, and a team as nebulous, unbalanced, and unwieldy as a pet shop run by Dr Moreau.

To me, Mark Hughes has always been likeable, and Man City always harmless enough. That was until the money started flowing like wine at a Roman Orgy. Mark Hughes, the "centurion with salt and pepper hair", is going to find it hard not to turn into a debauched Nero. When you can have almost any player you want, when you can make Eto'o and Kaka think twice, you are bound to go a little crazed. But City's team are still Ersatz Galacticos, they haven't earned their Top 4 stripes yet...

Some Blues are bemused by Lescott going to City, calling this a step down. But City's bank balance is monumentally huge, meaning that - in a league where everyone is loyal to the lucre above all else - they are bigger than us. Let’s not prattle on about history making a big club, the Premier League is like 1980’s Wall Street. Money is everything. Gordon Gekko said it best: “The point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right, greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit.”

If Lescott can double his wages by moving to Man City -a team that will soon be dining from English football's top table - why are some fans asking for him to loyally kneel at the Goodison trough? Was he loyal to Wolves? No, he moved to us, a club with more potential. Again, he is doing the same if he leaves us for City. As much as I want the Peoples' Club to be poster boys for potless Premier League success - we all have to admit that Man City's bank balance makes them far more upwardly mobile than us.

Moyes has made it clear that he doesn't want Lescott to leave, apparently not even for 20 million (could he really turn that down though), and Lescott's few words on the matter sound like an "I'll do as I'm told, gub'nah." The press though, have been sitting and watching, breathing heavily like a parking lot dogger - and are squirming with glee ; claiming that Lescott just has to "agitate" to get his dream move. And who can blame them, transfer tripe sells papers.

Thanks to the press frotteurs, rubbing their words against Lescott, almost daring him to ask for a move, this is a matter beyond Moyes. Lescott may not be loyal to the Man City lucre, but our board may be....And the money, whatever portion of it that Moyes sees, could help us get a right back ("the Scouse Cafu" is more Clark Kent than Superman) and an upgrade on our doe-eyed Smyke, Leon Osman.

To twist and mangle a famous quote: "In the next week or two this house, the nation and the Rt Hon Lescott himself will learn of what metal he is made’

Let's continue the fight without a sugar daddy. We are Sensible Soccer - they are FIFA '09...We are a local independent record store - they are a faceless music franchise... And with any luck we'll be Godzilla and they'll be Tokyo

Can we stomach a groundshare with Liverpool?

2009-06-25T09:28:00.001-04:00

This post was originally written for the Times Fanzine Fanzone Blog.

Moving home was always going to be an extremely testy subject. The very idea of it swills around our mouths until we spit it out like particularly disgusted wine-tasters.

It looks like we have three options with regards to our footballing home. First option, which should Kirkby go belly up will become even more viable, is to stay at Goodison, attempting to remodel our beautiful and historic stadium. For those who hate change (and as an Evertonian, force-fed past glory but starved of modern day success, how can we be anything BUT traditionalists) this looks like the least painful option. We stay in our beloved home and try and redevelop not a seismic shift, but a comfortable makeover for the Old Lady.

The second option is to move to Kirkby and "leave" the city of Liverpool. I am undecided about this one, only a heartless and brainwashed Orwellian Premier League Party Member would wave goodbye to such a beautiful old stadium and with it a mountain of memories, careworn laughter lines and crows feet. However, we have to move a few painful thorns from this argument.

First of all, we are only "moving out of the city" on a very dubious technicality. Try telling Terry McDermott or Alan Stubbs that Kirkby isn't in Liverpool. As much as the red side of town wants to believe that Everton are moving to a desolate atoll, we will in reality only be a handful of miles from Goodison. The other thing we have to realise is that we voted for this - this isn't a decision being forced on us by a distant and vengeful oil-igarch - but actually the result of a pretty fair plebiscite vote. Lastly, we have to at least take this option seriously, and give it time to breathe without the "Tesco Kirbydome" tag being foisted on it at the first chance. A new, bigger stadium will ultimately bring in more money, and we are a million miles and four decades distant from our Merseyside Millionaires moniker.

If leaving Goodison for Kirkby is tough, then how about the third option? A ground share with Liverpool. The knee jerk reaction is "not on your life, not in a month of Super Sundays"...But take a step back, take a deep breath. This could make sense.

By sharing we can get a bigger and better stadium than Kirkby, that much is obvious. One end, presumably, will be Blue, and the other red. Warren Bradley and his acolytes may feel that this is the only option if Merseyside wants to be involved in England's bid to host the World Cup - as neither Anfield nor Goodison compare to the two vast and modern stadia across the M62 in Manchester. To be honest, the idea of the city of Liverpool hosting a World Cup barely registers on my footballing radar - after losing one of our greatest young talents to Manchester, do we really care about a Mancunian stadium playing host to a World Cup game?

Of course, for many - including me - this isn't about sensibly stated facts, its about deep-rooted emotions. No Evertonian wants to say goodbye to Goodison because we worry that we would be saying goodbye to all the legends and memories. Dixie Dean, the gluttonous striker who told a different story with each of his goals, even though every tale ended the same; with the meeting of ball with net. Or Alex Young, fine bone china skillfully sliding through a bull market. As these tales, and countless more, are passed on we still have Goodison to frame them. But what if we leave the Old Lady? The very real fear of many is if we turn our back on Goodison we turn away everything that has made us great.

There is a strange symmetry to a ground share with the reds. One club split into two early in our common history, and now we could be grafted together like conjoined twins, long since split but now reunited again; still with our own identities but sharing living space. Is it possible to share with the enemy?

Even at its very worst, the relationship between Blue and red on Merseyside isn't even close to Barca- Real or Rangers-Celtic, teams pressganged by history into mutual enmity. There was a time when we sat together, sang together and dominated the league together. The answer to why this has changed lies at the bottom of Morrisseys melancholy caterwauling We hate it when our friends become successful. We are jealous because they didn't miss the boat for the top four like we did. We now get under their skin because we are starting to catch up after years spent beached at the wrong half of the table, they can no longer put their feet up and relax.

We need to realise that we are two sides of the same coin, Beardsley, Balmer, Morrissey, and Abblett and yes, even Abel Xavier. We are Blues dressed as reds Jamie Carragher and reds dressed as Blues Leon Osman. In the blue corner we have the punch drunk Rocky Balboa and in the red corner they have Joe Louis piston fists

Was I really the only one who wanted us to win the FA Cup and them to win the Premier League with the sound of Merseyside, Merseyside bobbing and weaving through the crowd in a Wembley season opener? This is neither Spanish morbo nor religious sectarianism or Italian vendetta. This is sibling rivalry.

Some will shake their heads until this idea is shot down. Some reds will scream until their faces turn blue, and some Blues will shout until their cheeks turn red. But to retain our history, a communal stadium with Liverpool, is the best idea for the Peoples Club: fact.

How can we guarantee that we dont see our hard fought history flutter away? By combining with our historic rivals, literally meeting halfway in Stanley Park. By swallowing our pride, sharing with the enemy in a halfway house of Blue and red. A stadium that befits, pound for pound, the most successful footballing citadel in the country.

We should flog Lescott...For the right price

2009-06-24T08:40:00.002-04:00

Today's papers are awash with stories of Man City's latest transfer capers; and apparently Mark Hughes is preparing a bid for our very own Joleon Lescott.

It's midly irritating when the Sun and Mirror are prattling on about players leaving Everton, but it's a whole different matter when the broadsheets start getting in on the act too. Today's Guardian reports that City's "opening gambit" will be around £15m.

Obviously £15m is a huge amount, but Lescott is a hugely important player to us. If we can squeeze £20m out of them then the offer looks tempting, but Jagielka will not have recovered from his knee injury until October at the very earliest. What that means is that Jack Rodwell - who is being drooled over by every journo with a pulse thanks to his "tour de force"/"superlative"/"immense" display in defensive mid for the U-21's - would have to play at centre half again, until Jags got back to fitness. Either that or Moyes would have to pull yet another brilliant defensive signing out of the bag.

So City's massive bid, shouldn't just represent Lescott's value to the team, it should also take our lack of backup into account. Rodwell is excellent, but very young to be expected to consistently perform at centre half for the opening months of the season.

Looking at it from a purely financial perspective, £15-£20m is a glorious profit on a player that Moyes bought for £5m, and we all know that Lescott has two ropey knees, which often need treatment after games. Could we be getting £20m for a player that - when he hits the 30yr mark - could descend into a footballing Douglas Bader - like Paul McGrath or Ledley King? On the other hand, money is nice, but players are better - could we find an instant replacement for Lescott?

Barcelona and Everton

2009-05-28T14:15:00.002-04:00

The papers heaped ridiculous praise on Man Utd before the Champions League Final on Wednesday, and after the game drizzled Barcelona in superlatives. Sandwiched in between was a game where Barca played well (not a superhuman performance like some papers suggested, but a good one - Barca have played MUCH better than that this season) and smothered Man Utd, killing them softly with their passing game.

What does this have to do with Everton? Well quite a bit actually - the fact that Barca were there in the first place grates a lot - as Chelsea would have been very tired an distracted if they had to play a CL Final three days before facing us. There's also this article in Toffeeweb entitled "Barca-ton" - and there's also's Barca's socio system - where each fan is a financial member of the club, surely the perfect system for the People's Club?

Trying to make sense of Fellaini...

2009-05-19T10:58:00.000-04:00

Are we all just hypnotized by his feral frizz or is Marouane Fellaini slowly moving towards brilliance at Everton? Maybe it's because his big hair reminds people of Carlos Valderrama, the Colombian midfielder with the orange Afro who was a bubbling cauldron of skill; whilst our Belgian isn't exactly a footballing pen pusher - he is no Valderamma, Fellaini's loud hair masks a player whose game (fouls aside) is based on unfussy simplicity. Tommy Gravesen too, was a victim of his looks, most lazy commentators claiming that he was Everton’s tough midfield firebrand, when in reality his shaved head and goggle eyes belied his skill.

And yet the question still boomerangs back: does Fellaini bubble and fizz in our minds like a drug on a rusty spoon because he's 6ft 4 with a mountainous halo of hair, or does he stand out because he is good? Fellaini seems to make the difference in some Everton games, but when you analyze why he is good, you again get more questions than answers...He seems slow, his ungainly tendrils, and awkward rather than hard challenges on the deck, send grenade pins flying everywhere - and in the air he causes problems but often outside of the rules...

Fellaini, a man obscured by his totemic Afro (he tried braids but looked like Medusa with her snakes tamed) and surrounded by media bluster, has quietly and efficiently got on with his job. His goal at the weekend against Sunderland describes him perfectly, an unfussy finish from a man who - like Tim Cahill - is continuously in the right place at the right time for Everton.

A lot about the Belgian youngster has been confusing, early on he was met with nonplussed silence, misunderstood from all four corners of the Goodison box that he thinks outside of, and other times he’s been celebrated, with a large number of Fellaini acolytes donning Afro wigs in tribute.

At first we knew very little about him; he was tall, thin, and a midfielder – and even that fact became less certain over time. Stories of his stamina sapping brilliance in the Liege-Liverpool game - where he covered every blade of grass like a forensic crime scene analyst - beat him to Goodison. When he arrived he wasn't what we expected, but I'm pretty sure the feeling was mutual. He'd been plucked in the last few seconds of the transfer window from Standard Liege, with Moyes knowing well that no signings would actually provoke a full scale riot. What perplexed us what that the entire summer Everton’s eyes had been fixed on Joao Moutinho of Sporting Lisbon, amidst the carnage of Wyness walking, and our transfer policy atrophying - and what we got was very different from Moutinho...

It is on paper where Fellaini really excels, 8 goals for Everton so far in the Premier League ( the same as Cahill) for a 21 year old midfielder, in his first season in the English top flight, is an excellent haul.

15 million Euros (even the amount is in dispute amongst fans) got us a work in progress, a young player that hasn't yet been fully reverse engineered for Everton by Moyes. He looks like a lanky Blaxploitation Syd Barrett, and often plays like one too - his kung-fu kick goal early in the campaign woke us all to his potential. Sometimes his ponderous passing can be excruciating, his ability to see cards dealt is that of a seasoned Vegas croupier, and at other moments he looks like Tim Cahill's rightful successor. And what position should he play? He's been shunted around filling in for injuries, but underneath do we really know where his best position is? He is immense in the air - but not in the conventional manner, his flaying elbows, fists, and hair, make for an utter melee every time he goes for an aerial ball. In many ways he is as difficult to play against as he is to sometimes play with; Gab Marcotti described him as a "beast" - and to me that is the perfect description. We just need to tame his wild side....

He's young and still learning, Goodison Park is his workplace and also his classroom, and I cannot wait to see Fella grow at Everton.

Ed Bottomley

Everton:No Jags? No Mikky? No Yak? Less is more!

2009-05-18T06:38:00.001-04:00

"Here comes success, hoo-ray success!"
So hollered Detroit's grizzled Iggy Pop, the optimistic lyrics mirroring the minds of thousands of Everton fans who jubilantly bounced through the week on Champagne bubbles after our Cup win over United. We even managed to bag a point a Stamford Bridge, and things were looking very rosy. That is until Phil Jagielka's injury stopped us all in our tracks.
Jagielka has had a wonderful season at Everton, looking more assured with each game and forcing his way further into Capello's thoughts and the England squad along the way. With our bare bones squad, a decimated strikeforce and a weakened midfield - it was comforting to have so much solidity at the back. For Phil to miss the Cup Final is painful for everyone, but it is just yet another setback in a sea of problems which started last summer with CEO Keith Wyness walking - and somehow we are heading to this season's finish line still fighting for a trophy. At Everton every injury to personnel miraculously transforms into a team building exercise, we are swiftly becoming the masters of less is more.
It has been a funny old season for the funny old game. Newly promoted Hull City rose so fast they got the bends, while previously bullet proof Aston Villa now look as prone as Detroit roadkill. Arsenal have had a rocky season but are firing on all cylinders now, and Everton, despite their rancid start, have had a strong season. Riley may be a United fan (we know he isn't really), Clattenburg may support the RS and Lady Luck - more important than those two shambling buffoons – is definitely not a Toffee. So the cards have been dealt, for our star defender and burgeoning England squad player - anterior cruciate damage and at least six months out - for our Iberian midfield laureate - season ending knee damage too - and for our main striker, a man who scores more goals than I have hot dinners - a ruptured Achilles tendon.
All you have to do is look at the Premier League table to see that thick black line between fourth and fifth, a line that separates the haves from the have-nots. First amongst the underclass is usually Everton, and we are seen as outsiders in the FA Cup too, with many a pundit already dismissing our chances against Chelsea. Things will definitely be harder without Jagielka, but when a team knocks three of the five teams above them in the league out of the FA Cup they can never be written off in such a cavalier fashion. Chelsea could also still progress to the Champions League Final, which is just three days before our Wembley match-up. Against Barcelona on Tuesday Chelsea's millionaire superheroes looked decidedly Clark Kent, and I fancy Everton, comfortable in their underdog status, to hassle, harry, and harangue them in the Cup Final.
Above all, no matter how gutting the Jagielka injury is, we need to remember that it has happened to the strongest area of our squad. Defence is one of the few positions where Everton have reinforcements; step up Joey Yobo. Jags may be our number one choice for centre half , but Joey Yobo is the man who helped us sneak under the velvet rope, and into fourth place. This is Moyes’ first chance at silverware, and his first Everton signing - Joey Yobo - could yet help him get it.

Barry banned for Goodison Cup Clash

2009-02-08T09:41:00.004-05:00

Villa skipper Gareth Barry picked up a 5th yellow card at Ewood Park on Saturday for 'over-exuberant' celebration of their second goal and as a result will miss next Sunday's fifth-round FA cup tie at Goodison. Aston Villa also have injury concerns over Cuellar [hamstring] and Heskey [achilles tendon].

Following their exertions of recent weeks David Moyes has ordered the boys to take a few days rest before resuming training. An early doubt for the weekend is Marouane Fellaini [back], while Steven Pienaar is banned and unfortunately Joao Alves de Assis Silva, aka Jo, is ineligible having played for just 20 minutes in City's humiliating third-round defeat by Forest at Eastlands.

EVERTON STRIKER SEARCH: Racing hurry to offload

2009-01-17T11:04:00.008-05:00

According to Spanish media reports the president of Racing Santander says he is in negotiations with the Toffees regarding a possible deal for their Belgian/Burundian striker Mohammed Tchite. Apparently a loan deal, with an option to buy, is what Kenwright wants, but Racing, who have debt problems, would prefer a straight cash sale. Tchite is almost 25 years old, stands 5 ft 9 1/2 inches tall and has played for: Standard Liege [2003-06] 58 App / 21 goals; Anderlecht [06-07] 30/21; Racing [06-to date] 45/14. He had a brief loan spell with Juventus in 2004 during which he failed to impress. Observers in Spain describe him as being injury prone and "less than clinical" in front of goal. Sounds like another Spanish club president trying to dump some dross.

Evertonians REJOICE: Rafa has a Keegan Moment

2009-01-09T13:28:00.005-05:00

Looks like the RS just blew their title hopes with Rafa scoring as spectacular an own goal as Carragher has ever managed. And it was worse, much worse, than KK's famous outburst because it was premeditated, the dope had written it all out in longhand and read it as if delivering a bad wedding speech. Sir Alex has won the psychological battle, now let's win the physical battle!

Good News; Moyes Shopping in Aldi Again

2009-01-09T06:43:00.005-05:00

Sifting through the daily transfer rumour dross is a depressing chore, but occasionally a story strikes a cord.

All the evidence shows that David Moyes is at his best when shopping in the bargain basement. When he visits Harrods his judgement seems to get blurred by all the bright lights. Beattie and AJ were expensive flops and the jury is still out on The Yak and arguably on his latest 'record' signing Fellaini, however when he scours the lower shelves for the overlooked or underestimated he finds a bargain every time; Pienaar, Lescott, Jags, Neville and the two Tims.

So it is with unconfined joy that I read of our interest in Andrew Driver the Hearts winger. The Oldham born 21 year old has been earning rave reviews north of the border and has scored 11 goals in 61 appearances, including a 'wonder' strike against Celtic at Celtic Park. He is pacey, a great crosser and strikes a superb dead ball. England under-21 coach Stuart Pearce has flown to Scotland 3 times to watch him and says "He is very much in my thoughts"

Hearts have major financial problems - £12.5 mln annual wage bill on a revenue flow of just £10.3 mln - and so may be willing to cut a deal whereby we take Driver on loan until the end of the season and then buy if he works out.

The last time we bought a young English winger from the lower leagues who could cross the ball he had played 74 times and also scored 11 goals for his team......that was Burnley......and the player......Trevor Steven.

Everton to Sign Another Dwarf?

2009-01-08T02:15:00.010-05:00

Strong rumours have emerged in the last 24 hours linking us with a loan deal for 26 year old Venezuela striker Giancarlo Maldonado. Scorer of 16 goals in 32 appearances for Club Deportivo O'Higgins of Chile he currently plays for Mexican side Atlante FC for whom he has scored 30 goals in 47 appearances since joining them in 2007. He has played 41 games for Venezuela netting 16 times, including in their historic victory over Brazil and is considered by many to be his country's finest striker.
The fatal flaw in all this, at least for our vertically challenged squad, is that Giancarlo stands just 5'8" in his cotton socks. But as one of my best mates, a Burnley supporter when they were a top team, used to say "They don't make diamonds as big as bricks!"

Everton:Return of the Band of Brothers

2008-12-18T03:51:00.000-05:00

First came Ramsey's 'wingless wonders' back in the '66; last season we saw Man Utd play their headless horseman formation, a lazy-Suzan style striker-free carousel of attacking talent with each star taking their moment in the spotlight. Now this season we have Everton, fielding a tackle-free midfield last week, and a line-up without a natural striker the next.

We started the season by inverting all expectations, our defence has turned from well drilled centurions to lollygagging daydreamers, our midfield was stripped of Carsley's snarl, and to top it off - Fortress Goodison resembled more of a cozy Bed & Breakfast for away teams.

Last week though things began to look even worse, we had one fit striker at the club, and the quintuplet midfield that came out against Aston Villa was bereft of anyone even remotely versed in the art of the tackle. Cahill can harry all game but is a tactless tackler in the Scholes-mould. Pienaar and Osman can pickpocket, Fellaini is not yet fully aware 0f the telescopic reach of his legs, and to expect midfield laureate Arteta to turn into a slide-happy tackler is beyond even our workaholic credo.

And yet, remarkably, these two performances - losing to Villa at home and beating City away have arguably been our best back to back games of the season.

Even after Ashley Young delivered his last-minute kick in the teeth with such aplomb, we can still look on the Villa game as one where we played well. Fellaini, with his massive afro and beatific face, has been excellent in both games, his unkempt and rangy style that stays just this side of legality makes him as troublesome and totemic as Big Dunc in the box, and as unpredictable and dynamic as galloping mustang outside it.

This week came Manchester City away, and due to Anichebe's failed fitness test we had no healthy strikers at the club. Step up Cahill, and an ersatz emulation of Utd's striker-free experiment. That it was a success is testament to the unpredictable game of football, where management is often a noxious mix of alchemy and poker.

No matter how much a manager pretends that he is in control, there are always factors he just cannot legislate for - transfer requests, injuries, the men in suits taking away his transfer budget, new and fabulously wealthy owners with skyscraping expectations, Heurelho Gomes. The pestilence thrust on the Everton strikeforce by the footballing gods came after a summer of supreme discontent in which tension was ratcheted up on a daily basis, with fans getting transfer window tinnitus at the wilderness of players linked to us. We failed to make a signing of note until the 11th hour, and now, at what should be our lowest ebb, with Moyes already looking to January's free-transfer flotsam - we have finally found a winning formula.

Moaning is the knee-jerk reaction of pretty much any football fan as soon as the going gets tough, but when you have no fit strikers you know that you are unlucky. Anichebe has a back niggle, Yakubu ruptured his Achilles tendon and is out for the season, Louis Saha returned to his natural state of injury, and when James Vaughan managed to injure his other knee the prestigious surgeon set to operate on it injured himself skiing.

Despite this backdrop of horrors - and even with a desperate Nuno Valente buying 100 lottery tickets in one go earlier this year – Moyes could turn this to our advantage. Under Moyes our biggest asset has been our spirit. Our strikerless formation and tackle-free midfield could yet prove to be the answer for a club down on its luck. It is in the pressure cooker of uncertainty, with no fit forwards at the club, and with a midfield unable to tackle, that we finally look balanced. Removing personnel has seen the return of the tight knit band of brothers.

For Moyes necessity has been the mother of invention, and right now we look curiously strong. The sum is definitely greater than its parts; at Goodison 2+2 definitely equals five.

Everton: 6 Reasons Why Harris Should Be Able To Sell The Toffees

2008-12-18T01:46:00.000-05:00

Written for the Times Fanzine Fanzone on November 14, 2008

Keith Harris is apparently finding it hard to find a credible buyer for Everton, blaming the unattractive demographics of Liverpool and the fact that we share the city with another team. Admittedly, Merseyside is a poor area, and the demographics must look bad, particularly in a recession, but on the other hand – television rights in the Premier League dwarf gate receipts – just as the global reach of the Premier League is becoming colossal in comparison to its rivals.

I have come up with six reasons why Harris should be able to sell “The People’s Club”.

I. Membership of the Premier League.
As the Premier League’s tentacles spread further afar – a stake in our league will become more and more precious. Purchasing Everton buys an investor just that; a foothold in the world’s premier football league, a Noah’s Ark of international stars, where tackles crunch like credit – and a home to oligarchs with more roubles that scruples. As the numbers of clubs shrink that haven’t already been gulped down by billionaire fat cats, Everton percolate to the top.

II. History.
History and tradition are difficult to crystallize into value but they are there in the truckload. Everton is a club that bleeds history, and in the 130 years that we have been in existence we have changed like Dr Who playing musical chairs; Bank of England, the Mersey Millionaires, the School of Science, the Dogs of War, and now our latest reincarnation – the People’s club. I like to think that we are an interesting club – the exotic curio at the back of the antiques shop. A blend of good and rubbish – if we were an album we’d be the Clash’s Sandinista – an epic of the great and the dire.
Everton are a team for all seasons, a Sandinista, with its everything but the kitchen sink philosophy. We’ve had a smorgasbord of players – from immense centre forwards like Joe Royle, Bob Latchford, Dixie Dean, and our one season shooting star Gary Lineker. With Everton you get everything from the Holy Trinity (Kendall, Ball, Harvey) and the Golden Vision (Alex Young) to the Dogs of War (Horne, Parkinson, Ebbrell) and the Big Yin (Duncan Ferguson). Wingers like Johnny Morrissey – with the balance of an acrobat and those that have fallen off that tightrope, like failed wideboy Andy Van der Meyde.
Any incoming fat cats have the in-built ego boost of knowing that they are transforming a team’s fortunes, whilst also realizing that Everton belong amongst the top clubs.
Much as it pains me to think of us being sold to a billionaire Verruca Salt, I can see that Everton’s dual persona – being equally happy troughing from the gutter as elegantly sipping Champagne from the top table – can’t hurt. An incoming buyer will be hailed for his transformative presence, but he won’t have to deal with the sniping barbs of elevating a club above its natural position.
The oft lobbed epithet of Chequebook Champions will be water of a duck’s back – we dealt with that nickname back in the 60’s. I may not want us bought, but I see little alternative, we missed the boat in not mobilising swiftly enough after the Premier League’s inception, missing the boat twice would be a tragedy.
I don’t just get the jitters thinking about billionaire buyers coming in, but about them leaving too. We already witnessed a soupcon of those effects after Agent Johnson’s spending splurge – and about turn – leaving us well in the red, with a number of players stopping off at Goodison as you’d stay at Clapham Junction whilst changing trains, most notably World Cup winning skyscraper Marco Materazzi, and French defensive midfielder Olivier Dacourt.

III. Mixing it with the big boys. Our track record in the Premier League of late has been excellent, butting against the top four glass ceiling – and actually smashing through on one occasion. It is that, our recent form, which will have billionaire buyers salivating and seeing pound signs – and could possibly have their huge wallets creaking open.

IV. Moyes. There is Moyes himself, our wily manager freshly tethered to a new contract – so often standing outside the dugout like Prairie Dog – man managing and nervously sniffing the air. If Everton’s constant harrying of the Big Four is attractive to buyers, then surely so is the alchemist who created our success.

V. Our current squad.
They say feed the Yak and he will score – even though he has been getting nil-by-mouth during our decaffeinated start – he’s still scored three this season. Yakubu is an idiot savant of a goalscorer – someone with little else to his game than the uncanny knack of scoring. This isn’t a criticism though, he is a born goalscorer, who sometimes scores despite himself, loping around and firing of magic bullets from multiple grassy knolls.
Special mention should also go to Marouane Fellaini – 15million quids worth of talent – who is starting to replace his question mark with an exclamation point – transforming from a lanky bag of nerves into a goalscoring midfielder as comfortable in the box as a frotteur in a mosh pit.
At the back we have a group that, if kept together, will only improve – defenders with talent and potential in Lescott, Yobo, and Jagielka, and an elastic goalkeeper behind them.
We also have our poet laureate in midfield, Mikel Arteta, has been quiet in the last few games, but he is the most talented player at the club – and another huge asset – with feet like Rory Delap’s hands.

VI. Our youth team.
Although not quite on the level of the playground superstars at the Emirates, we have developed an excellent crèche for young talent, with our first team squad currently boasting Jack Rodwell, James Vaughan, and Victor Anichebe – and cameos from Jose Baxter. The spores from our youth team have always translated into exciting youngsters; be it flash in the pan kids like Danny Cadamarteri, slow burning talent like Richard Dunne, or superstars like Wayne Rooney.

We miss you Lee Carsley!

2008-12-17T18:00:00.000-05:00

Written for the Times Fanzine Fanzone on October 17, 2008

While over the pond they fight for four years in the White House, on Merseyside David Moyes has signed on for five more years at Goodison. A myriad of creases has always framed the eyes of our irascible Scot; and those eyes, always cool and focused, as calm as a Californian swimming pool, must have betrayed a little more than a flicker of annoyance at the mess Everton have been in for months now. Surely - he must have thought - the "best pound for pound manager" in the Premier League - deserves more that this?

Now that Moyes has at long last signed, a season that is seven games in can finally begin. This awful summer we were led to expect a bumper crop of signings, but instead got a half cooked plate of loan and cheap signings and a last minute flourish in Marouane Fellaini. All 15million pounds of him. On top of a hailstorm of problems, our manager hadn't even signed. You can't help but wonder that it has taken Moyes so long to sign because of failed promises from above, but any concrete truths are very hard to find; Mersey journalist Dave Prentice went so far as to say that Moyes was silent because the only other option for him would be to lie.

Moyes' signature, although welcome, has solved just one of our problems. On the field we will be permanently chasing Cars this season, running after the memory of our departed defensive midfielder. Moyes has been pilloried for his stark summer, only bursting into action at the last minute. Because he telegraphed his main targets so publicly - M'Biah and Moutinho - when neither of those arrived, the signings that did arrive had a distinct pawn shop feel to them - but you can wait several seasons to find an adequate defensive midfielder.

I'm not implying that Carsley was the Irish Makelele, but without him we look far less solid, and his absence isn't something Moyes could just throw money at. The defensive midfielder isn't just the water carrier; the position is actually pretty nuanced and subtle too. Witness Alan Curbishley tossing Javier Mascherano to the sidelines and limiting him to 5 games in 5 months, only for Benitez to pick him up....With even Premier League managers unable to spot a good defensive midfielder when they see one, it is no wonder that Moyes has found it hard to replace Carsley. The loss of the Irishman is as painful as the loss of a Monarch's food taster - and without him the heart murmur at the centre of our defence has been magnified one hundred fold...

Whilst news of Moyes' new contract is great for the team, the fans are a different matter. Although many players will welcome the steadying of the ship with Moyes' signature - a surprising band of supporters are now upset by Moyes. We are almost unique in our history in that although we tasted Championship joys in the 80s, our Premier League existence has been mainly in the gutter. We rail against mercenary fans and rich oligarchs gobbling up our clubs, but for Everton one of the most worrying things is mercenary fans. People not willing to give Moyes a chance, when he has been wonderful for us. Moyes has won 41% of his games (better than Martin O'Neill), Walter Smith won 31% when managing Everton - Moyes got us into the Champions League - Smith couldn't even get us into the top half.

We need to forget the 80's - and look to the dire 90's - Moyes is the People's Club, without him we will slide backwards. This weekend we play a depleted Arsenal, another chance to shake off our slow, decaffinated start to the season.