In My Blue Life 2

On another point a friend and I were lucky enough to get tickets for the Everton players banquet to be held at the Lancaster hotel in London on the night of the final against Watford. Well it was either going to be a very quiet night or a great celebration thankfully it was the latter. We got there about 10 minutes before the players arrived and I was ordering a drink at the bar when in walked John Bailey and Derek Mountfield, John was still wearing that tall hat that he ran round Wembley with. Bailey refused to let me pay for the drinks. Then Kevin Ratcliffe came in with the FA Cup, well we had Known Kevins father Brian so he arranged to have a photo taken with Kevin holding the cup. We then took our seats for the meal and I was lucky enough to be on Peter Reids table with his family, during the meal Peter asked me had I seen his winners medal, I said no so he says to his Dad to let me see his medal. I obviously handled it with great care but Peter insisted that I get it out of its case and hold it, what a feeling me holding the Cup winners medal that had been presented only a couple of hours earlier fantastic!!!. Later on in the evening John Bailey told me that after the game Howard Kendall said to the players look I know you will be taking the cup to your banquet but leave me the plinth to take along to the directors venue that was being held at a different hotel from the players. But Bailey had different ideas and put the plinth into a carrier bag, so we had the cup and the plinth not sure how that went down with Howard and the directors.

("Shhhcottie lid?" Does 15 minutes of hilarious Billy Butler-style anecdotes on nits).

Anyway we get in there and the feller in charge goes out the back, returns and tells us "Be about 5 minutes mate, he's just sortin' your order out"

Rain was hammering down outside so we just waited.

Ting!

The door opens and in walks Tommy 'you'd go mad if one moved in next door' Smith.

He hands the feller a piece of paper and immediately the feller becomes the most obsequious suck-hole you've ever seen.

"Yeah remember this Tommy, won't be a minute Tommy, it's all ready to go Tommy..."

The feller then goes into the back.

When Tommy looks in our direction, we say fuck all but are both trying to come up with a facial expression that will convey "I fucking hate you"

The feller comes back with a box of tins of paint.

"Sorry for the wait Tommy, it's all there Tommy, good luck Tommy..."

Me and my 'oul feller are both thinking "you arse-licking red cun..."

But we were wrong.

The SECOND 'Tommy' is out the door, the feller REALLY lets rip.

"Fucking fat poc-marked dirty horrible red twat" he says VERY angrily

He then catches himself on and looks at us.

"Sorry" he says.

My dad (now laughing) says "Don't apologise, we agree with every word.

The feller says "Bet you thought I was right up his arse"

We said "Well..."

He says "Hey business is business..but he'll be painting my golly on his walls the fat cun.t)

One of the players mentioned was Alan Whittle who I'd seen only once, or maybe twice, in the reserves, and who hadn't impressed me at all. He (Catterick) was asked who, among the up-and-coming young Blues was going to be "the next big thing". "Make no mistake," said Catterick, "this lad Whittle will one day be the idol of Goodison."

To be honest, I dismissed the thought; sure he was a striker, and was very fair-haired (shades of 'the Golden Vision') - but I thought "No, chance". However for those few weeks in April/May of 1970 nobody, but nobody, has ever deserved the title "idol" more.

Dave Johnson lived on the Mackets Lane estate in Halewood so why he went to Gateacre Comprehensive, I don't know...

On the subject of waiting for superstars to turn up, I attended Sefton Park Junior in Wavertee before we moved to Halewood. In November 1960, I was selected as 12th man for the 4th year team. I was 2 years younger than my teammates. It was an experience thing... a bit like taking Theo Walcott to the World Cup. Come the Saturday morning, we're one man short. Our centre forward was still in bed. "Shit," I thought, "I'm going to get a game." No chance. The teacher sent a couple of kids round his house to get him up and 20 minutes later he sheepishly appears. His name: Alan Whittle.

I've hated him ever since. My brother met him a few years ago and told him this story and both had a good laugh at my expense.

Mick arrived for the U12s match looking ashen faced. I do remember him saying that he had no plans to leave and didn't want to play for anyone else. All the kids (and dads) in attendance could sense the sincerity. Once a real Blue always a real Blue – top man.

Mick was synonymous with an era of almost. I think he even missed the Andy King derby in 1978, his own goal at Anfield still wakes me up in a cold sweat, and the sight of him moving up front for the last 10 minutes was as desperate as it gets. He is probably the only player or ex-player who might tap into ToffeeWeb occasionally, if so, all the best Mick, you put far better footballers to shame with your attitude.

I was also playing at Rhyl when Ron Yeats and Tony Hately became Manager and Trainer for a while. Yeats was a gentleman, nothing like I'd expected, although Hately was a bit distant. He also brought his son, Mark, to train with us.The training, though, was superb.

We used to joke 'He took a penalty once and used his fuckin' head' - the inference being he was just a big plant-pot who could do no more than occasionally get his head on Peter Thompson's crosses.

(we possibly used the same hilarious gag re Toshack although in fairness, I think the Welshman had a bit more to his game).

I took my arl fella to an Everton do for his 70th birthday last week and we were sat on the table with Derek Temple. What a genuinely interesting and polite fella he was. Couldn't do enough when asked questions and opinions. He is 75 and looked in great shape, still training everyday apart from running.

Best part of the night though was meeting Gordan Banks, shaking hands with a World Cup winner.

Anyone remember the “alleged” Holly Lodge incident, Messrs Johnson and Whittle were shipped out by The Cat pretty soon after that story broke. They went within a month or so of each other. Johnson to Ipswich and Whittle to Crystal Palace. By my geography that’s a long way from Liverpool particularly in the early 70’s. It may just have been coincidence.....

The part-exchange deal for Johnson heralded the second worst centre forward I’ve had the misfortune of seeing play for Everton.

The manager of the schoolboy team I played in during the early 70’s ran a furniture shop in London Road with Alan Whittle.

Big Mick deserved better with Everton.
I remember he scored a perfectly good goal in the derby at Goodison that was ruled out for some spurious reason (the start of things to come). I think it was the Alan Waddle derby. He deserved to score against them.......at the right end.

Mick may not have been one of the best footballers to ever play for Everton ability wise but he was and probably still is one of greatest Evertonians to wear the royal blue jersey. I imagine that if this site had been going at that time he'd have had as much stick as Ossie and Naismith put together.

Mick will always be loved by Evertonians of that time and era. Does anyone know what he's doing these days?

One thing is for sure though, he'll be watching all our games... and, I'd like to think, mentally putting himself upfront for the last 10 mins.

(Mick – if you are reading this, post an update.)

Unfortunately so.

There are 2 versions of the Bernie Wright transfer saga.

One that The Cat was finally losing his marbles the other that they simply bought the wrong player.

From the cup-tie against Walsall The Cat had identified Alan Buckley as the transfer target and somehow they ended up buying Bernie the bolt.

You can guess I prefer the latter explanation.

Your comment on Cardinal Heenan School reminds me that in the days when it was called Cardinal Allen, the head boy was one Colin Harvey, who even as a 15 year old was playing for Everton B.

A good honest straight forward lad with no airs and graces, he was universally popular. I went on a school trip to Germany and so did he, and we played against a gang of German lads and we beat them – I even scored, a very rare occurrence – but even on a shite pitch with coats for goalposts he was magnificent.

A few years later, when he was an Everton regular, he came to our sports day to give out the prizes. My team had got through to the final and he refereed it. We won and he gave out the prizes to us. Fantastic for a young Blue.

He was exactly the same nice, down to earth lad he'd always been with time for a chat with a scruffy little scouse lad with no arse in his kecks. My mum and dad were there (he was a blue too) and he was beaming all day long.

The great Blues have all been nice in my experience over the years.

I've had a couple of brief encounters with the aforementioned.

Once in the early 1980s at Hillsborough I met Mick Lyons in the changing rooms when he'd moved to Sheff Wed, who weren't a bank holiday then!

Then a brief but embarrassing encounter with Colin Harvey prior to the 2009 FA Cup Final when I assured him that he'd won the league for us as manager. He equally assured me and two generations of my family that he hadn't but a great bloke who had time for us.

One of my school mates and a good mate as well was Archie Styles. (I still maintain that I gave him his name as he was always known as Arthur befeorehand.) He played 23 games for us prior to being the makeweight with Howard Kendall in the Bob Latchford transfer.

Interestingly, he played in our school team in goal and went for a trial with Liverpool school boys fo that position but was converted into a left back and was shortly to play at Wembley for England schoolboys against Scotland when he was 15.

The other issue of note from that era that I recall was playing for my primary school team, St Georges, against the renowned Billy Liddell's twin boys. The great man was on the touchline but never said a word, just observing the great football on offer!