Listen, Son...

I have to say, I am counting the days til I can take my lil boy who is only 2 at present but once he gets to roughly the age I started which was 4 then I will be so so happy to have him beside me roaring the blues on.

As Norman said it too brings back great memories for me. Unfortunately I never went with my arl fella as he was a red and only went to watch them on the odd occasion as he worked on the Tugs down at the Pier Head for what seemed like 24/7.

I was taken to my first game by my uncle Steven on my ma's side and there is never a day that goes by that I don't thank him for keeping me away from the darkside. Unfortunately he is no longer with us.

My first game was in 77 unfortunately I don't remember against who (possibly Sheff Wed) but do remember it being a great day out. From that day on I was hooked and by 83 I was going on my own as a fresh faced 10 yr old with a pocket full of slummy and my junior Evertonian plastic yellow card.

I just hope I can provide my lil boy with some magical memories to treasure too so when the boot is on the other foot he wont mind taking me too !

...but then I read this post, and it just punched me in the chest, and really 'got' me.

Awesome post, and just encapsulates what I love about the game (and, let's face it, there isn't too much to love these days).

Simon, I hope you get to enjoy many more days out with your old man, and it certainly has got me thinking, maybe I should give my dad a call and see if he fancies another trip up before the season is over...

Great post.

"We do not inherit Everton from our ancestors; We borrow it from our children."

Raher than picking a 'franchise,' you like for an up-coming season, I was recently explaining to a number of U.S colleagues about Everton being for life, fathers & sons, etc..

My Grandad's ashes were sprinkled over the pitch at Goodison Park, and my Dad's hearse did a lap around the ground.

Simon, good piece.

I like this... something that I and many others can relate to. We'll have to drink to those days

I probably wasn't far away from you when standing up in the 70s (Paddock) as I used to get to the ground before the gates opened; I got loads of players' autographs then. I can't claim to have gone to any away matches on a moped though! .

And yes, the faith has been passed on.... 17 of us gathered in our kitchen before heading off to the Boxing Day match v Wigan just gone. And, thinking ahead, the first question to any new boyfriends that walk through the door for my daughters is always 'And who do you support'?

See you around.

See you around!

I need to ring my Dad now.

We went for the Park End and admittedly left it a bit late getting tickets and ended up right by the away fans. We lost one nil (Ben Arfa, I think scored) and (I have to admit that Newcastle run Liverpool close in my eyes as the worst fans) their fans were going mental. It was awful being so close and having, what felt like a mega zoom in of their ugly faces. We walked out at the end and my dad said to me 'I don't care how much of a struggle we're back to the top balcony for the next game' .

We went the next couple in the balcony but for the Blackpool game my uncle got us into the Joe Mercer suite, we won 5-4 and me, my dad and brother had the best day out. It was the last game he made it to,, which we didn't know at the time, but what a one to go out to.

I wish he was still around to take the game! I would have loved to have three generations of us at the match as well. If you ever need a hand carrying your dad up to the top balcony I'll lend a hand.

Great article and hope your Dad can still make it...maybe a Stannah may be needed for the top balcony though...for you !!

Simon, I, like many other Evertonians, will help you carry your father if the need ever arises. Let's hope he gets to see a few more trophies lifted in the near future.... COYB

My last 'outing' anywhere with my late father was that eventful night of the Champions League fixture at Goodison.

My Dad was a Blue, but he never ever went the game in my life, it was my Uncle's job to take me, so that was our only time going together.

His health was bad then, so he sat there, shivering and deadly quite as I jumped up and down like a lunatic screaming and shouting, not a peep from him.

Then, as the game prorgressed and I realised that all the screaming and shouting was in vain, and we were getting outplayed, I sat down, and enjoyed the same view as my Dad.

Then to my surprise this walking stick started to get waved about, and words were being used I did not know was in his vocab.....I could not believe it, this Blue Father of mine had simply transformed back to his youth and started jumping and shouting. It was in vain that night, but I never forget seeing the transformation in my father.

He died not long after, and not a day passes I don't miss him, he was my best friend. But I have that night we shared, at his home, my home, and our Everton.

No other place do you get this heart felt feeling of a family, of sharing the same situations, and story's.

It tears me apart, but I never lose faith. I love this club, I love the fact I am an Evertonian.

COYB!!!

* Christ, it ruined me writing that!

Everyone should cherish the special moments of going the match with your Dad, mine was my idol and best friend and whenever I things are going wrong I look up to the skies above The Street End and ask my Dad for a favour... always does the trick!!!

Bloody hell gonna waterlog the bloody keyboard at this rate...

I used to walk from our house in Bootle to Goodison with my dad and brother back in the 70s. If his mate Jim was on the gate, he’d let two of us squeeze through the turnstile together for the price of one, and we’d stand on the terraces in the Street End. When we got home at 6pm, mum would tell us the scores from the other matches, and who’d got the goals. She was a lifelong blue, having stood in crowds of 70,000 with her dad and brothers when she was a kid. On days when we’d lost, she would put our tea on the table and go straight to bed because the mood in the house was terrible.

Both my parents are gone now, and these are treasured memories. As you can see from the replies above, you’re spot on in saying there are many of us who would love to still be able to take their dad to the match. I know you’ll make the most of the time you have left with your dad, Simon.

Up to the end we would argue the toss over games, players, results and managers, both fiercely defending our corners. Dad died some years back, the dreaded lung cancer eventually getting him at 76, mum followed some six months later, I always think of her with a broken heart. But the last conversation I had with him was quite a short one, he said "your not bad for a blue, you have had to take some stick over the years but l am proud of you, I love you"

Love you too Dad.

It was my Uncle Jimmy who opened the gates of Goodison for me, sitting on his shoulders watching Albert Dunlop save a penalty by diving the wrong way and catching the ball between his legs, West Ham I think it was.

There was no turning back, in later years when Uncle Jimmy and Aunty Mary moved to Keith court off City road, he would struggle to the game a hundred yards away from his front door.

Defiant, loving passionate, such are Evertonians, I am sure when they map our DNA they will find a Blue Gene in all of us, we.are the lucky few who carry the future.

My children are all blues, except for one, I guess there is ALWAYS one in every family, I give him stick, that's what we do isn't it?

It's rare we are all together now, but in the recent Australian per season tour we all went, with their kids and partners, sort of made me really proud.

Simon, cherish the memories, they will never leave you, I wish my Dad was a blue, but I miss the banter, the fact that no matter what, your parents love is unconditional, the only time l went to a match with him was when I was 12 he got two tickets for the derby, I was made up to be going with my dad even if he was a red, until we got to the ground, he gave me one ticket and kept the other, " I'm at that end of the ground, your at the other" a parents love can only go so far after all.

Thank you Simon, for the tears that trickled down my cheeks when I remembered.

Going to wembley in the final against Liverpool made me proud to see cars and chara's going past with both blue and white scarves hanging out of the windows.
The London police paid us a tremendous compliment for the crowds behaviour.

I remember Shankley dying and a million people wearing red and blue with heads bowed in the city and suburbs unified in respect.
I would love to see us rise above the stupidity of other cities bigotry and hatred.
We are the friendlies people of any city in Britain and next to London have the finest buildings.

When I worked abroad all over the middle east I praised our city for its rivalry and tolerance.
I wanted Everton to win the league every year and Liverpool to come second.

This article by Simon reminded me of those days and I wish they returned.

My Dad was one of those rare scousers who had no interest in football, it's my Uncle Harry who I thank for this life long obsession.

So proud that my 20 yr old son who has never been out of Australia and had flirted with the hype of United and Chelsea one day told me he felt he was a blue.

Thank you Simon for a great start to the day. Must organise that trip home to Goodison with my boy.

This, for me, puts in contrast some of the sheer nastiness and bile expressed towards some people on TW. Towards each other (and I know, I get close to that at times); towards Moyes, Bill, the physio, our marketing and communications guys, and especially some of the players. I just wonder why we can't just set out our views on e.g. any limitations with any of these people, without such snide comments. Too much to ask?

How many games have there been at Goodison Park with recorded attendances in excess of 70,000?

No conferring!

I'm a London-based blue and I've only manage a few away games this year, but I'm still excited at the prospect of bringing my boy (he's 2 and a bit now) to Goodison someday soon.

My Bootle-born dad took me to many a game, and not just at Goodison - he once took us to Turf Moor to see Burnley entertain Gordon Banks, and some other 10 fellas.

My favourite Goodison memory of my dad was a final day of the season when we went in (fulfilled) hope of seeing Bob Latchford get his 30th of the season. We entertained Chelsea that day and a bloke who drank in the same boozer as my dad (in Manchester) from our local, a Londoner came along with us to cheer the lesser Blues. As we were about to go through the turnstile for the Upper Bullens my dad put a friendly arm across Graham's chest and said, quietly but firmly, "Wipe your feet".

It would really cement her age if she ever did tell me one day it was too much to go to the game as excuses of us being garbage haven't stopped her for decades but she has seen some halcyon days to boot.

Turns out it's 16: http://www.evertonresults.com/highallhomeatts.htm

So much changes in our lives, but love of your team is the one things that doesn't change. If anything it gets more important but you are able to more philosophical as you get older with the ups and many downs. Cos that is what life deals us all in time.

Specifically, it reminded me of the post-match walk I made hundreds of times with my (late) dad when I was a kid (and before I became Jack The Lad and started bevvying and going to the match with 'the lads').

Back then (before I became a St End boy), we'd go in the Bullens.

After the game it would be Priory Rd, Lower Breck, turn into July Road, then down a few fiddly streets until we got to his mam's (my nan's obviously) in Meade Rd, Tuebrook.

In the winter, after a good win, as a kid, it was magical.

My Granddad, would have been listening on the radio so when we got there, he'd be made up too.

Three generations of Evertonians would then sit down to my nan's 'tea' which would often include the best sherry trifle I have EVER tasted.

(Yeah I know, write this stuff down and you run the risk of turning into Billy bleeding Butler.)

Anyway, it's natural that things change and that eventually, everything becomes a memory.

As memories go though, wonderful.

I'll get me coat........

PS Great thread

Anyway, I lost my Dad five years ago this week and all what people say is the same here. I do a 500-mile round trip with my 9-year-old and we sit just rows away from my first game with my Dad in the Main Stand. It's magical every time that tune comes on, sometimes being an Evertonian is enough, nothing else matters at that point. Nil Satis Nisi Optimum.

That is a fantastic response!!!

Football ( Blue and red ) was thread through all our lives and at family gatherings ( wedding, funerals ) which could be sometimes fraught with angst and grudges, Football was a safe-ish topic that could unite and turn a 'family foe' into one of us a Blue.

My Dad went to Rome and saw the stick that the kopites took from both thugs and police. He went to Hysel, saw what was going on and drove straight back, never even set foot in the ground. Had a ticket to Hillsborough but for some reason decided on the morning he wasn't going. I didn't know this and did a bit of a panic when I heared the news. Phoned up the Mammy for news only to get himself on the line, phew.

We decided we wouldn't go to the final as it was...well, just not what it was supposed to be, a good day out. We hired a villa in Aya Napa and played snooker on the afternoon of the game, we paid the hall owner a couple of quid to turn off all the TV's....Ignorance was bliss.

By the time my Dad died I was in NZ, I came home to make all the arrangements, with it must be said, great help from Red Ray the RS Bro-in-Law. I took him to the Rooney Arsenal Game, meal and beer all paid for. It turned out to be a fitting tribute. He, although nominal RS is actually old school and was going when they were in the 2nd Div. He and I both remarked that the post wonder goal atmosphere at the ground was just what it used to be like in the 50's and 60's and was a fitting tribute to all missing family members from those long lost days of Carey and Catterick.

We never lived far from Goodison Park so it was always safe for us to go on our own even though mum worried herself to death. It just seemed safer back then...

It was as me and our kid got into our early teens that the lies started. When we used to hitch to the away games: "Oh yeah, mam we're going fishing with Doolan's uncle. Yeah we'll be fine." Little did she know we'd be freezing on Haydock Island at some ridiculous hour.

We've passed that on to our lads although I was late having my boy who is now 10 but he's just as bad his first game was Wigan at home a few years ago in late August. We were drawing 1 - 1 with a couple of mins left. When we left Next thing we heard the roar and someone said Baines has just scored a penalty. He's never let me forget that.

But the one abiding memory for me was the Blackpool 5 - 3 game, a great match. He turned round to me and said, "Dad, this has been the greatest day of my life." I laughed but felt like crying. I knew then his life wouldn't be the same again... 'hooked' I think the word is.

Anyway, Simon, great story. And give a Meighan best to your dad.

It was only the other day that I came across Radzinski's last minute winner against Southampton on a YouTube video, it was my old fella's last visit to Goodison Park before his health left him as a Sky 'n' Stella fan before eventually passing away some years later.

It was a rare visit for him at that time instigated by my sister (once a regular Street Ender) who was on a weekend visit "up North". I got them the tickets in his favorite stand (the Upper Bullens) down at the Gwladys Street End, level with where Radz smashed it into the top corner.

I didn't even see the goal from my seat in the Top Balcony as I had left to get round to meet them and make sure they got back to the car. He insisted that we went for a celebratory drink in the "Iron Lung" his favorite pub where I spent my early years sitting on the stairs reading the match programme while he and his mates had their pre-match drinks.

I'm so glad that his last visit to the old lady ended in one of those "raise the roof" moments that brought a beaming smile to his face.

My current seat is only about 10 seats away from where we had our first season tickets together in the newly opened Top Balcony for the 1970-71 season, so he is never far away from my thoughts when I'm at the match.

Thanks for stirring the memories, Simon; keep the old fella going for as long as possible and hopefully see plenty more "raise the roof" moments.

I remember only one thing about the Fulham cup replay in 1948. Gates were being closed, word went out that those on Bullens Road were still open, my dad hauled me onto his shoulders and joined the rush to that side.

Dad was recently out of the army a fit 6'-4', such was the crush of bodies even he was swept off his feet with me still riding atop.

I sensed he was scared of me getting hurt, I was bloody terrified — and as for the game itself, I have no memories.

It's worth remembering that values have changed, success is only measured by winning, losing only measured by whining.

Those where the days when you could be split from your girlfriend / boyfriend because you weren't 18 and if you weren't then you would need permission to marry.

When mixed marriages need dispensation., whilst a mixed marriage in
Liverpool did not mean catholic and Protestant. It meant Liverpool and Everton, I that needed gods own intervention.

When you could hear rattles of applause, when cushions being thrown was A high degree of dissatisfaction,