Liverpool v Everton Preview

Words, then some more words. And a few more words. Some optimistic, some overly partisan. Some defeated before a ball is kicked. It’s derby week and there’s just fucking words everywhere. So here’s some more of them.

It’s not a game we look forward to much because of the many varied acts of Everton shithousery over on the very lawn of belldom. It’s the hope that this time it will be different that drives your anticipation for the game as it looms on the horizon. I doubt that this time will be different but for any Everton player wanting guaranteed after dinner speeches and “who put the ball in the redshite net” ditties sung about them: this is your chance.

There’ll be more tedious crying it in throughout the preview.

 

 

Last game seems an eternity ago thanks to yet another fucking dull international break. In fact not just dull but a costly one as Coleman won’t play another game this year and Funes Mori is out for the season by the looks of it. Why can’t the international beauts play midweek in between league fixtures like they used to? No one really gives a fuck – well apart from those voting Brexit.

We beat Hull City with a late flurry of goals making the scoreline seem more glamorous than the performance really was but it’s comforting to see a return to picking up points at Goodison and not fucking up too many of the games that we should be winning. Next step will be consolidating that with beating teams above us in the league regularly too. Anfield wouldn’t be a bad place to start, with Old Trafford hot on it’s heels just three days later. In fact we then have a visit from the reigning champions next Sunday to throw into the week. That’s nine points on offer in eight days of tough togger. Such seasons are won and lost during spells like these. Shit or get off the pot Everton.

There’s the build up to the derby both in the media and in the workplace. The charismaless biffs you share a site or office with suddenly wake up – like dormant sleepers from War Of The Worlds – remembering that they’re kopites, and want to “banter” you. How you handle this is up to you, hermano/a. They’re two dimensional as fuck. “Who scored the goals in your last game mate?”. Cue befuddled chops all over the shop.

 

 

Libbapuelfubbellklub aren’t daft when it comes to their product. There’s a certain romanticism about the club borne from the incessant media fawning and the orchestrated banners, flags and songs before kick off. For any helmet in their twenties looking to get into footie they’re the defacto choice. The club have all sorts of marketing flung at enticing foist smelling weirds from afar to Anfield to savour the experience and seek 100 likes on social media for their selfie before kick off #lfcfamily. Or Coutinho taking a corner, count the fucking cameras every time they have a corner.

All of this is at the expense of their local fans, in terms of ticket availability and pricing but truth be told LFC don’t give a fuck, they’re very much a corporate affair ran by an investment arm and fair fucks to them. Not many Premier League clubs do care that much of their fans in a genuine fashion. I’m not even gonna claim Everton do.

It’s one contributory factor as to why there is a bit of a divide in their fanbase as the local fans are growing ever more resentful of the out of town “ardent” kopites. Plus these out of towners are hideously embarrassing – badgeman and brothers – gifting opposition fans a thousand gifs and photos to retort to kopites every time any kopite tries to claim the moral high ground. Which is basically in every interaction any kopite has had ever. It’s a telltale sign of acute insecurity, they’re just seeking praise, but then you’ve spent time around them dear reader so you’ll be very aware of that.

 

 

I also don’t think it’s right to accuse all kopites of being twats. That’s an injustice as you’ll defo know a few, or even more, that are sound and that you can cohabit on this planet with, maybe only if you don’t ever talk footie with them. I’m surrounded by them and many of them I love as family or mates. It doesn’t make for good previewing as I’m meant to partisan the fuck out of this but I’m just another fat knobhead on the internet so who am I to sneer? Besides, overcompensating is as kopite as doing plane gestures at Man Utd fans then claiming an Evertonian spat on one of the memorials outside Anfield when they fail to get three points from us.

There’s a fatalism about Everton which separates them from kopites. An Evertonian is waiting for it to all go wrong and then hate on Everton worse than any opposition fan is capable of. We’re a weird bunch but that’s how we roll. You could also claim it’s counter productive as that collective mindset can rub off on the players and it was interesting this week to see the interview with Carragher on GrandOldTeam where the ham hock faced defender referenced Everton turning up throughout the previous decade and not expecting to win. It was candid and many are inclined to agree. By the way can you truly hate Carragher? Nah, me neither.

 

 

For kopites it’s about being seen in a certain way. They are desperate to be noticed and when they got attention then expect Candy tops and banners and SHANKS and flares meeting arriving coaches and scarves above the head screaming lyrics as though the philosophy of it is truly only something they can understand, despite it being a cheap sixties ditty scribbled down to sell vinyls. They’re in on a secret that you or I or any mere mortal can never know how it truly feels. The smug self congratulating bastards. If you claim that you do know how it feels then you’ll get sneered at and an Istanbul reference within ten seconds. But then again they’ll never truly know how it feels to watch Michael Thomas shithouse them in 1989, or when that fucking turd slipped and fucked up his gaping chance at a league title. Or Crystal Palace’s third slotting in. Or Fanta Scruff mouthing off the cameras fresh from his Easyjet flight only for that four foot Sevilla fan to flop him with his boxies hanging out for the world to see. I don’t think that even the synthetically provoked euphoria of nineties garys can reach those particular levels.

Suppose I best cover some of their players and shit. They’ve got a decent team and manager and are doing well enough in the league. They seems to have the foundation of a system and players that may make me sweat if they manage to add the right players to it. They press like fuck and then counter attack with fast, technically adept players. They’ll four nil the fuck out of us again but they’re not winning the title so it’s a small trade off.

 

 

I don’t (yet) despise Klopp either which elevates him to a rare echelon on Liverpool managers throughout my lifetime. The media stir it up that he personally invented the pressing game and he laps it up. Forgetting that we’ve had hairy arsed strikers chasing cumbersome defenders for about one hundred years in this country, while the tan legged foreign leagues have ample time to toss the ball around at the back like a Roberto Martinez wet dream.

Here’s a list of some of their players who may or may not play on Saturday:

Sturridge – they were doing his twat arm celebration aplenty but now they hate him for some reason which leads me to deduct he’s said he’s planning on leaving them or just simply hasn’t done a five paragraph arse kiss of der fans in a few months.

Origi – better than Lukaku they said. He was in bed your honour they said. Joe Cole is as good as Messi they said. Tom and George gonna take us back to the top they said. It’s like being raped they said. They said lots of shit.

 

 

Firmino – looks like someone has kidnapped an Inuit from an isolated tribe and then introduced them to western civilisation and 80% cocaine purity. “Do this suit me?”. No, you look a twat mate. And put them teeth away you’re making the penguins nervous.

Mane – really good player, looks like Malik from The Wire.

Henderson – fat gawping shithouse desperately trying to position himself as Gerrard with 20% of the talent. Worth taking a redcard for, the fucking beaut. Go on and spray the ball sideways to the wing tithead. No one’s arsed.

Milner – his face looks younger than what he done at 16, the Hovis advert gridded twat.

I can’t even be arsed talking about them anymore.

Everton then.

 

 

Lukaku, the big boss mercenary fuck, will start up front hoping to put a few more dollars on his next club fee and the one million more instagram followers that playing for a higher profile club will bring. Loves his instagram. There’s a huge amount of tokenism amongst Premier League footballers and indeed the millennial generation, they like to make pertinent statements through isolated demonstrations of success. It’s usually somewhat misplaced but if Lukaku scores the winner at Anfield then there’s no sweat on my behalf if he jibs us soon after. He’s done the beautiful thing and we got four years out of an ace young player. No one is gonna be burning his shirt on a washing line like dense fucks if he does swerve us.

Barkley is fresh and fit from an international break as he never plays but in some ways it’s the perfect situation for Everton as it avoids him getting a titty-lip-form-dip on missing out but he swerves the fuckwittery of playing for England, the injuries and the media trying to sell him to Chelsea, United, Arsenal or Man City. Well, they still try to do that anyway but it could be a lot worse. He’s one of three local lads who could play for Everton in this fixture so he’ll understand the aim is to get a derby fixture named after him. Fuck knows we win so few of late that it’s got to be something to aspire to. Not sure who else will play up top, maybe Mirallas who likes a derby?

 

 

Schneiderlin is exactly the type of player we need to win derbies so it’s no surprise that he’s injured and not likely to make it. Or is he? Barry’s derby performances are only ever a David Attenborough commentary away from a hippo getting lost and being savaged by some top feeders on a night time savannah so I hope Koeman – head like an under school desk Hubba Bubba – has some sort of plan with Gana Gueye and Davies and whoever the fuck really that won’t let their fast little triangle playing fucks terror our midfield.

Looks like Funes Mori is fucked so that will be a lashing of Jagielka and Williams as part of a back four with Baines on the left and I presume Holgate on the right. Now’s your chance man. Robles with his cityscape teeth between the sticks.

Enough words, fuck these.

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