A Pilgrimage: My Weekend Abroad to See an Everton Match

My journey to Liverpool, England, began a few months ago. For the first time in my 5 years of supporting Everton from over here in America, I had the necessary funds to go to a match. I didn’t have the kind of money to go spend a week overseas. I work for an hourly wage and I am also a full-time student. That wasn’t going to stop me from capitalizing on the opportunity to make my Everton pilgrimage. I decided I would just go for a weekend.

It was never going to go off without a couple hitches, was it? The first hitch was my outbound flight. I got to my local airport in Lynchburg, Virginia to find that my flight to Charlotte, where I would get a connecting flight to Gatwick, was canceled. After having a few months worth of a countdown, I thought for a moment that maybe I wouldn’t be going after all. It was just a momentary thought, though. I was put on a flight out of Roanoke, another airport about an hour’s drive away. The airline, US Airways was even nice enough pay for a cab to get me there.

After making it to Charlotte just in time, my plan was to sleep on the overnight flight. Who was I kidding? Sleep didn’t come and I arrived in London at 7:30am with a full day ahead of me, having already been awake for roughly 18 hours.

I wandered around London all day before heading to The Euro Lodge in Clapham (south London) around 8am. I walked in to find people complaining about how their reservation had been canceled without the hotel having notified them. While they were still going at it with the desk attendants, I spoke to another attendant only to find that I was in the same situation. I don’t know how they screwed up so badly but they did. One employee made the excuse that my card had been declined, another told me that there was an issue when they updated the computer system. Either way, these incompetent morons offered me a room at their sister hotel in Peckham (I think that’s a dodgy part of London) for a 5 quid discount.

I still had to get myself there on the tube or the bus so I was really spending the same amount of money. After about a half an hour of going back and forth with them, I talked them down to a 20 quid discount. They didn’t have a map of where the hotel in Peckham was and they were incapable of giving me directions. One Nigerian guy (who, separate of his being Nigerian, was the single least intelligent person I had ever come across) took a map I had of London. He pointed to a spot in the air about an inch below where the map ended and said “it’s right here, you can’t miss it.” I told them to screw off. Their company wasn’t getting any of my money and I really hope they go out of business. Believe it or not, I walked away from the hotel with a smile on my face. At this point, I had been awake for 29 hours. I was in a city I had never been to and I had nowhere to stay for the next 2 nights. Might sound dreadful to some but to me it had become the greatest adventure of my life.

I took the tube to Euston station. I figured I would just make sure I was close to Euston. I had to be there for my train to Lime St. at 7 the next morning. If I found a place to stay, that would be great. If not, I would sleep on a bench or in the station or something. I found a decent hostel with an open bed after going to 5 or 6 other places only to find that they were too expensive for me or fully booked for the night.

I woke up at 3:30 in the morning and thought ‘I’m going to an Everton match today.’ Adrenaline kicked in and all hope of any more sleep was gone. I laid there for about an hour before heading out a couple hours early and wandering around the city some more. I got to the station about an hour before my train left and met the first Evertonian of my trip there. I heard a think scouse accent say “are you headed to the match?” The man’s name was Paul. His nephew played ‘keeper for the U-10s and he was going to the game with the lad. We separated before getting on the train and I didn’t see him once I was on. I guess, in a way it worked out. As much as I would have loved to talk with the guy, the 2 hour nap I got instead helped me immensely for the day that was to come.

The train arrived at Lime Street at 9:20am. I walked from there to Albert dock and visited the Merseyside Maritime museum. I found it absolutely fascinating. The city of Liverpool has such an incredible history. I walked up the road to see the three graces which were quite astounding as well. There is a distinct difference between Liverpool’s architechture and that of London. Liverpool’s buildings look very industrial and, in a way, imposing whereas London looks at times royal and at other times modern.

It was then back to Lime Street to catch a bus to the ground. On the way to the station, I stopped at Everton Two to pick up a flag for my living room (the room now looks complete with the flag next to my autographed Coleman jersey and a scarf.)

I was surprised how few Liverpool kits I came across in the city. In fairness, they were away to Norwich but still, it was a matchday. “The people’s club” really doesn’t seem like an empty claim.

Upon walking up to the stadium, if I’m honest, I was tearing up a bit. I had finally arrived on a journey 3 years in the making. I would always think I was going to get to go but then come up just a bit short. I would think I had enough money and start planning where I would stay and what I would do but then always ended up needing the money for something else. That was no more. I was there.

I walked around the ground once before heading in to the Winslow to watch the Arsenal/Chelsea match and take part in the pre-match festivities. While in there I met a couple guys named Lee, Charlie (I think that’s what he said) and Callum. We chatted a bit before going our separate ways into the ground. (Side note: Lee told me he was a recording artist. I told him I was going to check his music out. I forgot his last name so if anyone knows this lad, help me out here.)

I went in to my seat about 20 minutes early and just stood there in shock that I was actually inside Goodison Park. The first row of the Gwladys St end nonetheless. To my right was a man named Mark, there with his son who was probably between the ages of 3 and 6. I hope that’s what I do with my kids one day, an afternoon at Goodison in the street end. To my left was a younger guy whose name I didn’t get. He was probably around 18 years old, persistently getting on the players for hoofing or not making the right pass. What I picture when I wonder what people on Toffeeweb are like in real life.

Everton unusually defended the park end in the first half. The game started in dismal fashion with Everton unable to get going and conceding early. It looked as if Howard was at fault for not getting out to the cross but the man was unmarked so I doubt Tim was completely to blame.

It wasn’t long before we were back to playing quality football, though. Our efforts paid off when Ossie netted from close range. I went nuts. Jumping, screaming, the whole 9 yards. That was the climax of the trip. It made it worth the 1200 dollars I spent, putting up with the idiots at the Euro Lodge in Clapham (I want all of Toffeeweb to know never to stay at that crap hole) the hours I spent getting there, and the exhaustion that I would end up feeling once I got back.

Not long after Ossie’s goal, Mirallas played a lovely through ball to Jelavic who calmly slotted away his first of 2. The build-up play was tremendous. We were playing on the deck, passing football. We looked like a side that belonged at the top of the table.

Jelavic’s second was as magical for me as the other 2 we scored. Seamus Coleman, who was back to his best, used his blinding speed to beat 2 defenders and get a perfect cross in. We had the game under control and there was a feeling of relief.

The second half wasn’t much to talk about. At one point, Howard was taking his time on a goal kick before being berated by a fan. “Hurry up, Tim. We want f***ing 6!” he said. Tim replied by turning his walk to the 6 yard line into a slow jog and everyone had a laugh.

It was becoming clear that we were going to take all 3 points. Lee Probert blew the whistle to end the match to the applause of all who were left in attendance. We were in second and would remain there with Man United losing to Tottenham.

After the match, on the advice of everyone’s favorite, Eugene Ruane, I visited the Goodison supper bar for chips and curry before heading back to Lime Street to catch my train back to London. It had been the single most memorable day of my life.

Saturday night was spent wandering the streets of London, not sleeping. I didn’t travel half way around the world to take a nap. Everything was closed so I couldn’t buy food. That sounds like a bad thing but it wasn’t. London is like Disney World without roller coasters. It’s awesome but so unbelievably expensive. I spent 9 quid on fish and chips. 9 QUID! That’s 9 pounds sterling. They wanted 30p to use the bathroom at Euston. For 30p someone ought to be in there wiping my butt for me.... but I’ve digressed.

Later that morning, I headed out to Gatwick for my flight home. Over the course of 72 hours I slept for 6 and a half. I went balls to the wall for the duration of my trip. I’m still physically exhausted as I write this on Monday night but was one hundred percent worth it.

In this piece, I’ve mentioned people and places by name. The purpose of that is, if any of them are ever on Toffeeweb, to say a massive thank you (or in the case of The Euro Lodge in Clapham, a massive no thank you) for making this weekend the most memorable experience of my life. I hope to see you all again sometime, hopefully sooner rather than later.

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