The following is to the tune of “We Didn’t Start the Fire” by Mr. Billy Joel. You might have to try hard to imagine it.
Martínez, USA, Stones’ chip, signed Kone,
Joel Robles, Alcaraz, Deulofeu.
Moyes is gone, goes for Baines, takes the Afro, and he pays
Norwich draw, West Brom draw, same for Cardiff too
Stevenage, extra time, now to start the table climb
Allez-Oh, “Wigerton”, “Republic of Everloan,” School of Science, Barkley, Duracell McCarthy, Barry in, Lukaku, Jan Mucha goodbye!
We didn’t start the loan war,
It was always burning
Since the league’s been turning.
We didn’t start the loan war,
No we didn’t buy it
But we’re trying to sign it
Anichebe, Naismith’s sh*te, Barry blocks and Naismith’s alright
Down with Chelsea, down with West ham, Down with the COC,
Etihad, Pienaar, Lukaku’s roll, Fourth is ours,
Two nil nil draws, Then Suarez scores, the cock
1-2, 3-2, Mirallas gives Ratfink the boot,
Oviedo, thrashed the Stoke, Old Trafford, that Scottish bloke,
Ov again, Pyros out, Beat Man Utd, #MoyesOut,
Emirates draw, We want more, Gunning for the top 4!
Free kick, Howard’s red, Now the home record’s dead,
Coleman, what a strike, QPR, on your bike
McGeady in, Jela! NOOO! Let’s get another loan,
Anfield homicide, Now we’re f*cking horrified, Oh-oh-oh.
F*ck the Villa, F*ck the Spuds, Swansea City, Terry’s dud,
Si Currie, Hammer blow, FA Cup’s a no-go,
Very wind, Ric Wee, Lionel Barkley,
Alan Pardew, “Psycho”, four wins in a row!.
Fulham, Never in doubt, Naisy gets the waggle out
3-0, going above, Lego Head gets the shove,
“Money in the bank again”, Where’s the Arteta money then,
Brown OG, for Sandy, Bobby Collins RIP,
Martin Samuel, 7 wins, Goodison is full of grins,
Oracle, debacle, Jerome is f*cking typical!
Nike out, Umbro in, David Moyes back again,
From the spot, Mirallas shot, Moyes is gone, Neville’s not,
Mars Bar, Injury, Big Dunc, slippery,
Top four havin’ a laugh, Two own goals in a half,
Downing, Larsson, rivals at bay, #EvertonForADay,
City win, what a shame, 5th, records, decent game, Barkley son, what a hit, Gerrard looks an utter tit, Everton you’re f*cking boss, now for all that summer dross!
Basically, it’s been oh so easy writing these previews (except this one…) because Everton have made it such a pleasure this season. I for one believed that Martínez was a good fit, although not my first choice – not that Borussia Mönchengladbach boss Lucien Favre was ever going to join us. I thought we’d finish sixth again. But no, we’ve progressed. Fifth place, Europe (straight in the group stages if Arsenal win the FA Cup) and a record points tally. If we get at least a point, that’s the 70 point mark breached.
I’m going to leave the details to an end of season review, so let’s get down to business. It’s actually a good summer of football, but from May 11th to the World Cup beginning on June 12th are 32 days with only the play-offs, the FA Cup final, the Europa League final, the Champions League final plus a load of other football from around the world. See? Nowt. It’s great but it’s not Everton. So let’s look a bit further, to June 18th. That’s when the 2014/15 fixtures come out. So much Everton to digest again.
Here’s the big one. From the final 2013/14 game to the 2014/15 opener are a total of NINETY-SEVEN days. I hope we survive.
On to this one then. Who’s ars*d? Well, I am. With nearly 100 days before Everton grace the Premier League once more we need to lap up this ninety minute spell of Science while everyone else focuses on City cantering to the title. PLEASE. GOD, PLEASE. Andy Carroll’s a crime against humanity and if he or Downing Syndrome hand Liverpool the title it’s time to wander into an EDL rally wearing a hijab and talking French. Runcorn and Birkenhead would be Everton no-go zones forever. The Twitter Retweet Squads would place you at the mercy of cockney reds. So let’s avoid it.
Our opponents, Hull City AFC have decided to take up the old Fulham slot; dull, dull league performances leaving them sat on their hands come March just waiting for the season to end while sneaking into Europe and actually getting further than us. They would, wouldn’t they. Steve Bruce has achieved miracles just surreptitiously hiding enough pegs round his head to keep his face in some working order, and on top of that he’s delivered the dream season for Hull. But Assem Allam’s a moron, and as I’ve said a thousand times middle aged men at a football ground with face paint and tiger onesies need bad things to be inflicted on them. Inflict away, Everton.
It’s tough to work out how they’ll line up, but luckily I’m not ars*d. Steve Harper, looking like Terry Waite adjusting to natural light and smelling the sweet smell of grass after all these years, should be in goal. Erm, that lot, Figueroa – who apparently has been Deulofeu-fodder for the past couple of months, Huddlestone – who has seemed to be ‘the one that got away’ for us for a while now – er, those midfielders, that fella who’s a bit…y’know…Long, Jelavic. Ah, Jela. How we loved you. How we forgave the form dropping like Lib Dem popularity ratings, constantly being caught out (offside, the Lib Dem metaphor is over unless you believe the reports), the random wanderings to the left wing (oh, it’s back again). So you’ll score, won’t you? Course.
For the Blues, one last time…Tim Howard! Shocking against City lad, but we’re hardly crying over it. Seamus Coleman, the Players’ Player and Fans’ Player of the Season. Premier League Team of the Season too. You’re boss lad. Never in doubt, were we Evertonians? Eh? The exciting Yorkshire duo of Jagielka and Stones at the back. Yes, I just said “exciting” and “Yorkshire” in the same sentence without sarcasm. I live there but it could seriously do with sunshine or a football team that isn’t a catastrophe. Leighton Baines, who this season has become England’s premier left back. Do the biz in Brazil lad.
Gareth Barry and James McCarthy. Probably the most pleasing part of this team to write about. Aesthetically they lend as much as a pillar in front of a seat in the Bullens, but it’s worth leaning round the damn thing to see the work they’ve done. If the former chases that golden final paycheque, well, he’s earned it. But it’d be nice to see him chasing a dream instead. He’s probably got room for one more trophy. James McCarthy is still my player of the season and he’ll keep going, even if under the radar, doing something very special for the Everton for a long time.
In front, some seasonal revelations. Ross Barkley has been outstanding from his goal against Norwich to that even better one against City which won him the Goal of the Season award. As best young player too, he’s giving us that warm tingly feeling that makes us come back week after week. Steven Naismith deserves plaudits too not only for improving but for changing our minds. We can be a stubborn lot and plenty of humble pie has been served by Naisy. Have an award, lad. Best Albino Scot. On the other flank will be either Gerard Deulofeu, who could give us another season of stepovers a long, long way out of the Neville bracket, or a truly sound bit of business in Aiden McGeady. The man we’ll all miss once gone, Romelu Lukaku, can be happy with his 15-goal contribution. We all want a couple of strikers coming to Goodison in the summer and if Chelsea let him go would we say no? A man with hatfuls of goals at 20 years of age? I don’t think so. To summarise that Martínez feeling, there’s a host of youngsters we could see too without the slightest bit of worry. Award winners Browning and Ledson could well get a good run-out.
2013/14 has been boss. All that worry and confusion over what lay ahead is now not just hope, but belief that so much more can happen. We’re in the era of Allez Allez Allez Oh. And think of some classic pieces of Everton. We play it on the carpet, we play it in the air, whichever way we play it, we play it fair and square. Check. We only know that there’s gonna be a show when the Everton boys are there. Check. Nil Satis Nisi Optimum. For the first time in a long time, that’s an absolute check.
Hull’s just the beginning, ladies and gents. We don’t know the destination just yet, but it’ll be a pleasure following those brown shoes on their way down the path. In a bit Everton. I’ll count the seconds.