And if you know your history… A tale of joy and woe

After the FA Cup Final win of 1966, my dad decided that, as family finances were now good enough, he would spend £28 on 2 season tickets for him and myself in the Goodison Road stand. 

We had some joys: the 1970 title-winning season, and some lows, the 1968 FA Cup Final (when we were in the infamous G64 section, which had a significant number of forged tickets). It saw us not only lose the game but my scarf knitted by my aunt who had died 5 years earlier, aged 28.

By 1971-72 he had had enough. I think his words were “I am not paying this much to watch this rubbish”, as Everton slumped to 15th with Alan Ball departing for Arsenal and Bernie Wright arriving from Walsall — a sign that it was not going to get any better anytime soon. 128 matches and matchday programmes, all in each season’s binder, bought from the club shop.

Sadly, my parents knew the cost of everything and the value of nothing. A few years ago, I discovered that the whole collection had been dumped. Not one remained.

12 months ago, I went to Goodison Park for what is at the moment the last time. I reminisced about the days with my youngest, the matches, the players, the memories and mentioned the programmes I had now lost. I had one of those “Oh, my goodness — I am that old?” birthdays coming up and, over the next 3 months, he scoured the internet and presented me with 71 of the programmes that had been lost as my present. He also bought a box to keep them in with the Everton Crest and "And if you know your history..." on the lid.

Roll on a number of months and I thought — what about the rest? A couple of weeks ago, I went on to Google and found a programme selling site. It became even more exciting as they had the programme from the first match after I was born, the Fulham game on 11 May 1963 when I stood at the back row of Gwladys Street to watch us win the league and also the Bayern Munich game. Joy!

With us on holiday the following week, I had the parcel sent to my son. A week later, I wondered if it had been delivered. I checked and the seller has sent me the proof of delivery. With no answer, Royal Mail had left it in a safe place but my son has no trace of a postcard to say it had been delivered and so knew nothing of the safe place.

Where had Royal Mail decided was the safe place? The paper recycling bin behind the gate in their back garden. When was the paper re-cycling collection? Last Tuesday!

Thank you, Royal Mail. All that history, gone.

It is tales like this that make us Evertonians.

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