There’s a site called Billy’s Liverpool to commemorate all the past sights and sounds of Liverpool. Today, a poster I think called John Peat, posted this, written before the match postponement, it deserves a view even though he is from the other side of the fence…
A ‘Red’ Perspective
Assuming we don’t subsequently meet in the FA Cup, as a 60+ year old school Red but also a football fan, tomorrow will be for me a very sad nostalgic day.
Goodison Park is one of football’s most historic iconic stadiums of which only a few still remain, including Anfield, Old Trafford, St James Park, Stamford Bridge, Turf Moor, Elland Road, Parkhead and Ibrox. In football historic importance, it’s up there with the San Siro, Camp Nou, Allianz Arena, Estadio Santiago Bernabeu, and the Maracanã.
Many football fans (including me) think that it’s a tragedy for the beautiful game that Everton couldn’t somehow redevelop Goodison along similar lines to Anfield but that’s another discussion for another day and I sincerely wish them well in the new stadium at Bramley-Moore Dock.
Many people also forget that Goodison Park co-hosted the 1966 World Cup, with Brazil (including Pele) the holders playing all their matches there. I remember the city falling in love with North Korea and everybody in the school playground wanting to be Pak Doo-ik.
They had sensationally beaten Italy and then went 3-nil up against Portugal at Goodison in the quarter-finals only for some geezer from Mozambique called Eusebio to put an end to that and introduce himself onto the world stage as one of football’s greatest ever players.
I’ve also often wondered if Kim Jong Un or more to the point his dad or grandad ever rejoiced in watching highlights from these matches rather than trying to blow up the entire planet.
As a Red, I used to love and cherish going to derby matches at Goodison – essentially because it was an away day but without the hassle of having to book a British Rail ‘special’, a Home James coach, or hire a Ford Tranny. You also could proudly wear your colours without fear of being brutally beaten up or decapitated by rival fans.
Everton also very kindly gave us our own terrace, aka the Park End, and I fondly remember chanting singing and swaying with fellow Reds and being surrounded on all three sides of the ground by bluenoses who hated and despised us and wanted to burn us alive at the stake. It was us alone against the entire world and it felt fucking great.
Decades later, I took my two lads, aged 6 and 8, to their first ever derby at Goodison in August 2003 in which we won 3-0. They were obviously ecstatically happy which was great to see but the problem was we were seated in the lower paddock right next to the Gwladys Street End. They were wearing their full Liverpool kit plus bobble hat and scarf and let’s just say we weren’t the most popular people in the ground at full-time.
In the end, we had to get a police and steward escort around the ground to where the Liverpool fans were exiting. Rather than be emotionally traumatised by this whole event, they absolutely loved it and for the next week regaled their classmates with this wonderous tale of how they got evicted from Goodison Park.
Some of my most memorable footy moments (good and not so good) took place at Goodison derbies. My old man taking me to the 1966 Charity Shield and watching Sir Roger Hunt and Ray Wilson proudly display the Jules Rimet trophy around the pitch.
I remember being mesmerised by the brilliance of Alex Young, aka ‘The Golden Vision’, and wishing that he played for us. I remember Ian Rush scoring 4 goals on 6 November 1982 and us Reds celebrating by letting off leftover fireworks which we’d smuggled into the ground.
I remember Alan Ball and those bloody white boots breaking my heart by scoring the only goal and knocking us out of the FA Cup in 1967. I also remember the Everton Toffee Lady always being bombarded with all manner of confectionery whenever she got to our part of the ground.
Then there was also the fabulous scathing witty banter that took place in the boozers between Blues and Reds before and after a derby at Goodison. It again felt extra special because we were ostensibly the away fans.
You’d shout and sing obscenities towards each other and compose chants and songs about alleged sexual misdemeanours committed by certain players. It was in the main all good-natured and if a scrap did materialise (usually between a couple of drunken inebriated younger fans) then the older fans would unite and throw them out onto the street.
The mad crazy thing was that, after all these hostile shenanigans in the daytime, you subsequently met up with your Red or Blue mates in town later on the evening – not to debate or argue about the match but how you were going to pull a bird in the Babalou, Beachcomber or Ugly’s.
Unfortunately, Heysel and the subsequent mixed fortunes of both clubs has effectively put an end to all this friendly respectful rivalry, to be sadly replaced by intolerance, stupidity, bitterness jealousy and hatred on both sides.
Finally as usual with a derby, form goes completely out the window regarding the result tomorrow but I really hope that it turns out to be an absolute classic as a fitting finale and tribute to this famous and wonderful old stadium…