Aye it’s shitter than a rainy weekend in Pontins yet here you are, here I am, ready again to go through the weekend lottery of Evertoniania.
Can’t be arsed anymore lad. You lying, man. Admit it they have their hooks in you and like fuck are you giving up after all these years, no way, the moment you do and they start to do anything slightly promising you’ll be round there like a bottle and two stripes booty call.
Was that convincing?
Seriously can’t wait for any point in the mid term future to have some sort of cohesive Everton back that I identify with doing all sorts of bits to seduce my weekday productivity with weekend promise.
In the meantime it’s this bunch of disjointed underwhelmers plodding along in the hope there’s 3 shitter teams than us come the season end. The away games in particular are invoking all sorts of 1990s deja vue with glum, even resentful, northbound journeys on the M6 after various dippings down south. Yet we’re still here, right?
This week brought the two years up on Moshiri’s reign and prompted many to reflect and analyse the strategy and effect so far, the summaries of which weren’t particularly awe inspiring. For there’s a certain apathy emerging around the club in the fan base and a damaging disconnect. Not that there’s any ire directed at our boy Farhad for the most part as he’d put his hand in his pocket and tried to push Everton on, good intents do go a long way with us. It’s just on the pitch right now we’re a bunch of shite and – toxic to Goodison and those in blue watching worldwide – there’s no real character or fight amongst the vast majority of them. Meek Evertons are a definite kryptonite to all of us.
So there’s a big job in the summer and something which won’t be as simple as last year’s “throw loads of money at it and hope it works” strategy. I genuinely detest the modern cliche laden superficial language used in corporations and mimicked by Apprentice wannabes but we need to find ourselves an identity. A purpose, a communcatable strategy so some form of fucked up rapport can develop between club, players and fans. Incremental progress on the field. Players to build upon. Something. Fucking anything. Just not this shit.
Summer analysis, evaluation, strategy, implementation. Clear targeting and some avid benchmarking to guide it along. Many should fear for their role beyond the end of year period coming up to facilitate all of that. Just as you would in a normal half arsed company. From the top down, and then on we go. Dead simple when you’re just another internet tit writing these words and with little inside appreciation for what a massively competitive and complex marketplace Premier League football is. I’m not taking a gigantic wage though so get to fuck, and just start getting better Everton.
Who we playing? Burnley it is then. Another team whose manager we apparently coveted earlier in the season, before they went to shit. Yet Burnley are made of stauncher stuff than Watford so Dyche is safe in that role and so he should be. He’s a beacon of what we once were – in comparative context – of continuity, good decision making and solid (that word again) strategy. It wasn’t enough for us in the end but then when you got a 23 year winless itch at Everton nor should continuation of that void be so. Anyway it’s hard to dislike Dyche, the gravel voiced talking walking scotch egg being one of the more tolerable around in a Premier League of bells.
Same for Burnley really. It’s difficult to not be fond of the wooliest of all current opponents, from a small working class town with appreciation for straight talking and value of community. There’s many good people come from Burnley and that’s no coincidence. Obviously you’ll find some absolute dangers too but I’m gonna sweep past them for now and leave them to Donnay and curry in peace.
Needless to say we will face a windswept battle at Turf Moor. In fact I’m kind of hoping the orange ball can’t save us and we’re given a weekend off via a good ol’ fashioned P-P and alternate plans being activated. Bukkake all over Lancashire oh dear Storm, please. Oh hang on it’s called Emma isn’t it? Whatever then.
In the event it does go ahead then you may see some of these players running rings round Everton:
Wood – big Maori oppressing lump up top who is gonna lean all over out shit defenders on set pieces.
Hendrick – one pan faced No Frills Robbie Savage with eyes so far apart he’s almost hammerhead. Jam packed full of bantz and must be hurt.
Lennon – busy wee wing beaver fondly remembered by all at Everton *removes rose tints* stop patting us on the head there, me.
Defour – a warm fuzzy throwback to when we had a team that played for the shirt and we used to throw bids in for players to complete a jigsaw, only to completely miss out on them. Rumour has the completed jigsaw image was known only to the eyes of Bill Kenwright, and was of a ginger weather faced Scotsman smugly drawing a pistol during a showdown, with a discarded knife gleaming in the background.
Mee – one spunk headed consistent reason they’re not missing Michael Keane.
Tarkowski – the other reason they’re not missing Keane although if any remnants of Storm Emma push air around Turf Moor and they catch them ears then Elon Musk just may look on in envy.
Pope – stand in keeper who’s been impressing lately and an absolute shoe in for MOTM if Everton startle everyone and actually turn up.
Burnley haven’t won in 11 Premier League games by the way, as ominous as the first spots of rain on your newly cleaned car that.
So Everton then.
Word on the street, well from larger Samuel, is that there’s some three way competition for the place up front between Niasse, Tosun and DCL. Which I imagine is like logging onto your almost defunct hotmail account and finding 3 emails eagerly soliciting you from Tatiana, Tatiana and Nigerian Freddie, in your junk mail. At least Sigurdsson and Walcott appear more capable from out wide, albeit not against a very high bar.
The midfield 3 of Davies, Gueye and Rooney is probably our best bet until summer. Aye it didn’t shine much last week v Watford but we need to give some stuff a go, and wait eagerly for the number 2 sign to be held up and watch the fella in front of you who calls even his own mother “lad” lose his head.
And fuck the defence. Maybe Holgate should be in there somewhere. Keane makes his return to Burnley and God forbid he’s at fault for any of Burnley’s optimism sapping goals. Full backs blah blah. Pickford in goal.
Ten to go.