Match Preview
The first match of a new, Smith-less era as his selected replacement, David Moyes, takes charge of his first game after
just 24 hours in the hot seat. What will it
bring?
The requirements are elegantly simple: play football as she
was meant to be played. Passing, structure, balance,
organization, creativity, movement but above all... GOALS!.
Perhaps the presence of a new face in charge � albeit
for just a day or so � will be enough to inspire something
better from Walter's squad of overpaid, under-performing
super-stars, and hopefully set them on the intended path.
It would be nice to see Moyes ignore whatever
"advice" Walter may have given him in a two-hour
debrief session, and immediately start ringing the
changes. At least Chadwick is available but a number of
other young prospects were ruled out by playing in the
reserves on Thursday night.
Without some fresh injection of life, we will no doubt look agricultural as Fulham stroke the
ball around in front of us. If we defend deep, then
we'll restrict them to long shots while we belt it upfront and
let Radz run around totally unsupported.
Either Dunc or Campbell will play the Totem-pole role
around which nothing will revolve. Any creativity we
might have hoped for from Ginola has been reduced to the level
of a sick joke. It really is becoming quite depressing.
Defence seems to be Everton's only real strength at the moment,
but even there it is too much to expect that they can
guarantee clean sheets. The Smith fallacy of relying on
defence when your forwards (or midfielders or defenders) can't
score is thus laid painfully bare.
Malbranque, Collins and Legwinski will remind the blue
hordes how a football should be passed around by a team that
is actually coached and managed to play the game properly,
although they have demonstrated a lack of a cutting edge which
means we could grind them down... if only we could find a way
to score.
At the back, they have recently started shipping goals: 4
to Arsenal, 2 to Liverpool and 3 to Chelsea... Our
strike force isn't quite of that standard however and we'll be
very lucky to get one!
Prepare to be embarrassed by a recently promoted 2nd
Division side giving Everton Football Club a lesson.
Fulham have never won a league game at Goodison Park... how
more ominous can it get?
Oh, how wonderful to be an Evertonian!
I love this club dearly; I believe in Kenwright's love of
the club; I believe in the passion of the side; I believe that
Kings Dock is our holy grail; I did until recently believe in
Walter Smith; and, until he left, I believed we were now going down.
But now David Moyes is here and, once again, there is a
feint whiff of optimism...
BlueForEver
Everton Reclaimed
by Steve Bickerton
A strange week... having finally come off the fence on Sunday and stumbled
into the Smith-Out camp, feeling that on balance it was better he went than
stayed, I can't say I was still 100% sure by the time the decision was
announced. By then I'd started to go into the "bury my head in the
sand and all would be OK" mindset. But, now that the decision has
been made and having seen both the dignity with which Walter departed and the
alacrity with which the board acted in getting David Moyes in place, I'm
convinced that my misgivings about timing were misplaced.
The manner in which we won today's game wasn't what convinced me,
though. It was all the other things around the game, which suddenly felt
right.
Firstly, it was the fact that Moyes allowed Andy Holden to pick the side and
dictate the tactics. In terms of experience, the only difference between
the two is that Moyes has been a Number One before, but Holden at least knew the
players and had shown his credentials in leading the reserves to the Premiership
Reserves League Championship last year.
Together, they might make a formidable team, with youth and ambition on both
their side � maybe something of a latter-day Clough/Taylor partnership � not
the useless Manchester City twosome of Nigel and Bob (did they ever play
together?), but the steely and assured Derby County/Nottingham Forest
championship (and European Cup) winning pair of Brian and Peter.
Secondly, it was the buzz of expectancy around Goodison Park � no longer
the air of despair. Somehow, today, the faith � if not the missing
thousands � had returned.
Thirdly, there was the sight of the Manager, out there on the pitch, leading
the warm up, keeping the players on their toes, showing both them and the
watching fans just who is the boss.
Almost above all, it was the calm and assured manner that David Moyes had
eased himself into the Goodison hot seat. Not the platitudes for him of
"It's a great club".... "It's a big job"... "The
fans expect to win"... No, he gets straight to the heart of every
Evertonian and shows then that he understands how to run this club: "This
is the people's club in Liverpool... the people on the street support Everton
and I hope to give them something to be proud of over the next few years."
But above all, the thing that convinced me that a change was right and that
Moyes is the man, was the fact that I rediscovered Everton
Football Club this week. Having been in the queue for
Evertonians Anonymous, I'm now in the Born Again Blue camp. I am now ready
to shout my faith from the hilltops, rather than hide in the corner and pretend
that I didn't care.
David Moyes won me over with his quick smile, his openness and above all his
belief in his own ability. Whether the players believed was another
matter... The evidence of that will come later � perhaps as soon as next
week � when, following the Rams away win at Bolton today, the game at Pride
Park takes on added significance. Two clubs with two new managers.
One at the beginning of the "honeymoon" period, one maybe at the end.
Today was no more than a chance for the players and the fans to rediscover
that joy in the Blue; that belief in the Toffees; that indefinable something
that is Everton Football Club.
The Game
27 seconds was the Golden Goal time, not the 32 seconds talked about
elsewhere. A throw on the left by Pistone, a nod from Ferguson, a scuffle
in the box and a terrific shot drilled from the edge into the bottom right-hand
corner (as he faced it) by David Unsworth.
Bedlam!!
Rhino charged down the touchline, badge now in hand, now kissing the badge,
delirium!; reminiscent of his charge down the line at Villa Park after his
awesome strike last year.
This time, though, it was delight and not defiance. This time it was
accompanied by the unbounded joy of the home faithful than the cat-calls and
derision. Rhino may not be the world's most gifted footballer, but he
oozes commitment and desire. Contrary to the feelings of many others, I'd
have him in my squad any time.
Fulham were stunned and pressed forward. For almost five minutes we
were pegged back, unable to get anything constructive going, but we weathered
the storm and started to play some good-looking football.
After about 12 minutes, the ball made its way back to van der Saar in the
Fulham goal. Captain for the day, Duncan Ferguson (an inspired choice,
given the circumstances surrounding the game), harassed the keeper, who fluffed
his kick off the Big Yin's left foot. Unlike the usual luck that we have
in such circumstances, the ball bounced back into the penalty area, away from
the bemused keeper, with Ferguson in chase. The Scot remained calm and
swept the ball coolly into the empty net, despite having been caught by a
despairing defender.
All gloom was dispelled � two goals in one game. We were as giants,
not the slumped world-weary apologists of last week.
Fulham were stunned and changed their tactics. Having been playing neat
football and trying to break down the Everton defence they started to
play-act. Players threw themselves down or left their foot back so that a
pursuer could run into it (sounds a bit of a blue-glazed interpretation of
events, but I'm sure that's what happened), with Gravesen � who was definitely
up for this one � finding himself in the book for nothing more than
uncontrolled enthusiasm.
Ten minutes later, that booking was to prove costly as, after another
seemingly innocuous challenge, he was dismissed for a second yellow card.
This season, our disciplinary record has improved enormously but, in two games
against Fulham, we've had two players dismissed and a �25,000 fine. Just
before, we could have been three up, as Carsley, admittedly from a long way out,
failed to find an empty net as the Fulham defence was torn apart.
Following the Gravesen dismissal, the game deteriorated into something of a
squalid affair, with petty fouls, aggravations and further bookings. Not
that the tackle on Radzinski, which flattened him from behind, apparently
deserved one. The worst tackle of the game thus far and not a word from
the referee. As a result of the injury, Radzinski didn't appear for the
second half, although he finished the first. Let's hope that its not too
serious.
The second half saw Fulham go to 4-3-3 trying to take advantage of Everton
being a man down in midfield. Boy, did it work! Joe-Max Moore came on for
Radzinski and ran himself ragged. Sadly, ragged is a fairly generous
assessment of his contribution overall. We were like frightened rabbits in
the headlights of an oncoming juggernaut. We froze, we panicked, and we
paid the price. Seven minutes into the half, Fulham got a cross in from
the left for Malbranque to side-foot home.
After that, it was all hands to the pumps, with Carsley and Gemmill adding to
the overall desperation by continually passing to white shirts, putting their
colleagues into impossible situations, or simply going missing. When
Blomqvist came on, I felt sure that one of those two would make way, but it was
the outstanding Unsworth who deservedly left the field of play � to a standing
ovation!
We endured 45 minutes of unceasing pressure, during which Fulham showed that
they could play beautiful football at times (we did let them, though) but were
suffering from a dearth of strikers who could convert chances. We hung on
in there and came out as winners. It was nail-biting, it was
heart-lurching, but once more it was Everton � OUR EVERTON!
Man of the Match: David Unsworth.
After-thoughts
Having come down a little from the cloud on which I was sitting, to look at
the reality of the situation, I feel more than confident now that � given
Moyes's enthusiasm and determination, and a repeat of today's never-say-die
attitude � we will stay up.
The close season will probably see something of a merry-go-round of ins and
outs. On today's performance, David Unsworth apart, nobody in the midfield
looks safe. The defence looked solid enough, if a little (sorry � a lot)
nervous, with Ferguson and Simonsen also likely to stay.
I would think that we'll be hoping for a good World Cup for J-M Moore so that
we can get a decent price for him. Of the midfield, Gravesen needs to get
control of his adrenalin levels if he can play to his full potential.
Given that he can do that, on balance I would keep him. So, that's
Carsley, Gemmill and Blomqvist on their way and a reprise for Gravesen.
Hibbert showed why he received such rave reviews in previous games.
Despite being left exposed time and again by Carsley, he kept Fulham at bay, for
the most part. As has been said elsewhere, he and those like him, are the
future.
To close, I would like to add one more thing. I've doubted of late that
we were a "Big 5" club. I know that, on current form and
fortune, we're far from it. But reality is a strange thing.
Recently Derby County relieved Colin Todd of his duties; John Gregory was his
replacement. These were "big" stories at the times that they
happened. But the events of the last few days at Goodison Park have been
treated as major news, receiving far more column inches and TV or Radio airtime
than our current status would seemingly deserve.
We are a "Big" club... that will never cease to be the case.
What we need to aim for once more is "Big 5". We can do it.
Steve Bickerton
Not bad for starters,
Then?
by Phil Pellow
David Moyes duly recorded his first win as Blues' Manager � but boy was it
close. The terraces were awash with fingernail parings by the end, and we
had been hanging on for so long our arms were getting tired. Still, a win
is a win, and we need 'em. On the drive to the stadium, Ian Mac is
practicising cliches � "We need to have a team of gladiators out there
today, we've got to make Goodison Park like the Roman Amphitheatres of old � I
reckon Bill should tell Moyes to sign up Russell Crowe on Monday." And so
on and so forth, bla-di-blah. It's all great stuff, and he has us both
laughing all the way to the Spellow. The sun is warm on our backs as we
stroll down Goodison Road, having first passed the Blue House. One of the
Indie Blues lads is by the door as we pass. "Saw you on the
telly the other night, Phil." I smiled, trying to look suitably
indifferent. "You were talking through your arse, as usual."
Yes, folks, this is Merseyside! We pad into the Spellow, and after a
couple of Buds with my boys and their partners, find Mickey Blue Eyes and the
suitably unshaven Neil Wolstenholme, looking more like a nightclub doorman than
an accountant type. After a while, a heated discussion breaks out
between MBE and Keith Wilson, on the subject of Tommy Gravesen. Is he a
knobhead and a liability (MBE and me) or an inspirational figure (Keith)?
Hindsight might have changed Keith's opinion since then, but maybe not!
The Kippers arrive and take photos. I scuttle off to the bar and avoid
the lens. Dave (dad) and David (son) Atkinson arrive, after the short
drive down from Elgin (800 miles round trip), and I make them feel better by
announcing that it's along way to come for a nil-nil draw. Kinda guy I am,
okay? Roald is over from Norway, slightly farther away. The
kippers are raffling a Becky book, and we buy tickets, thinking it would be nice
to give the book to Roald if we win. No bother, the bugger wins it anyway
� who says there's no justice? (Okay, apart from Clive Thomas. Oh yeah,
and Heysel, of course � that goes without saying. And obviously there was the
Hansen hand ball, I mean that is a shoe-in) Anyway, where was I?
Still with us? Oh good, I thought you'd already gone. As we bimble
across to the Gwladys, light rain is now falling. We take our places, and
David Moyes strolls out into the spotlight, arms held high in salutation.
Cue roars from the Amphitheatre! Andy Holden's team shows the return of
Hibbert to right back, and Pistone restored to the left of defence. The
midfield four comprises three war dogs and Gemmo. The Yin is back up front
alongside the Rad, and is given the armband. He has tied his socks up and
combed his hair � wow, is this the new Dunc? Moments after the start,
Sandro plants one up the inside left channel, Dunc knocks it on to the Rad, who
tees it up for the advancing Rhino. Three thousand Park Enders reach for
the crash helmets and the others merely duck. Shame, 'cos they miss an Exocet
into the far corner by the Chorley one. Unsie races towards the Gwladys
like a hare at Altcar before being engulfed by swifter hounds. A lucky
general? That'll do for me. I catch a glimpse of Moyes snogging
Holden. They can't touch you for it in the circumstances. Not
long later, Hibbo launches it long up the inside-right channel, and the ball
flicks off a white-shirted defender's head towards van der Saar. The big
Dutcher sees a bigger bugger storming in at him and hesitates. His
clearance bounces off Dunc and free into the box, whereupon the Yin calmly
plants it home, and we are in orgasm (although not, of course, in the biblical
sense)! Fulham, shaken, still play the Tigana way: pass and move, pass
and move. The dogs bite in at their ankles. Unsie, Carsley win
tackles and ball and leave a bruise or two. The Gravedigger misses the
ball and boots the other guy. Twice. As he trudges off for
first use of the soap, Moyes turns away to discuss the weather with
Jesper. We are not amused. Less than half an hour gone, then, and we're
two up and one down. By a combination of sheer willpower and
panic, we see it through to half time, but early in the second period, the
opposition pull one back. Hayles turns past the otherwise immaculate
Hibbert, and sends it low across the box for Malbranque to side-foot it home
with some ease. Cue the Alamo! Fulham simply passed us off
the park for the rest of the game, but somehow we held out. A header
smacks the bar; Hayles balloons it over from close range; Duncan is in the thick
of it, heading away from the six yard box on four or five occasions. Stubbs
and Weir are, as ever, awesome. They are all knackered, but we hold
out. Jubilation! Having partaken in a corner count of nil to
eleven, we have still managed to grab the three points, despite Norbert the
knobhead being sent off so early. And all of the others have played their
part. There are many problems, though, not the least of which is the
ineffective Pepsi, who came on for the crocked Rad in the second half, and
hardly got a kick of the ball, and our patent inability to string together any
passing movement of note. Who cares? We won. Woof,
Woof! Next?
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