Hey again you. You’re back, course you’re fucking back, it’s la cosa nostra and there’s virtually no chance you can jib it.
A three month St Domingos hiatus coupled with a boiling hot summer and a tremendous World Cup festival of futbol clears the mind, and hopefully has pressed the reset button on your relationship with Everton.
And it’s been all change at Everton, with the odor of Sam Allardyce removed from the corridors of Finch Farm, out too went Steve Walsh and his linen suit, and a truck load of changes at boardroom level including a new CEO, who’s a blue. It was all a bit weird as Everton usually have a slower transition than an eighth hand Ford Capri in 1988.
A clear out of the shithouses who served us so badly last season was the primary summer transactions and right now I sit here typing this with a few deals apparently close. Which is sound because the pre season must have merely confirmed to marvellous Marco that he may have a decent system but he sure didn’t have the players to play it.
Maybe these new signings won’t fix that, but maybe they will and that ignites hope that we may once more be able to go and watch our beloved royal blues do stuff on the pitch that makes us happy. Fuck knows it’s been too long.
If last summer gifted us anything it was trepidation towards Everton transfers and it’s enjoyable to watch the vast majority of you temper your excitement lest you tempt fate and these new Brazilians disappear into Davy Klaassen’s locker. No one does post traumatic pragmatism quite like Evertonians.
The Premier League fixture list has lashed up a tricky one to begin with Wolverhampton Wanderers returning to the big stage, and not before time as they’re that pleasant jam of a historic club with fantastic history and working class support with local strong identity. We’ll come to the customary insults soon, don’t worry.
Since we last seen Wolves they’ve undergone quite the metamorphosis and are striding into the league flash with money and some impressive players, straight out the Davie Moyes’ we’ll go with what we’ve got handbook. With all this money they’re lashing about I’m fully expecting a film to commemorate it, maybe make it half real and half animation to pander to the simple farmhand masses, a “Slade Jam” if you will.
If you’ve been to Wolverhampton then you’ve been to how your parents used to live. The place is fully active memorial to 30 years ago in fashions, attitudes and personal hygiene. Want to level up in this enchanting hierarchical system? Go get yourself one of them leather bomber jackets like you’d find in Central Station and hey presto you’re essentially the Wolverhampton Fonz, the alpha male around town and privileged to the bounty of endearing but simple friends and eye watering mucky girls who are an absolute fucking nightmare on the high street when you allow them more than 2 Vodka Redbulls, which is to Wolverhampton what iridium is to Wakanda.
If you’re getting a picture of “Arctic Monkeys song subject matter” then you’re definitely warm. Throw in a deceptively slow paced accent that turns syllables longer than a Catholic mass and you a new cocktail called ‘small city English mainland 101’ that hen parties in Popworld order by the fishbowl and vomit all over their cheap Matalan shoes approximately 45 earth minutes later. Welcome fucking back football.
As you can clearly see there’s much to like about Wolves so we welcome them warmly back, until they stabilise for 2 seasons, get cocky and turn up at Goodison thinking they belong and sing Feed The Scousers feeling dead original.
Manager Nuno Espirito Santo is cutting a good reputation despite looking exactly like the Front Desk Supervisor of your last holiday who promised you the best exchange rate before promptly fucking your entire holiday budget in a currency heist so audacious that Martin Scorsese is going to have to kill his character within the next four scenes.
Their new squad resembles what I imagine a keen Guardian futbolista would pick for an Iberian fantasy league team which hardly any names I recognise, but are sure to make me seethe at Everton on Saturday evening and make me wish they’d fuck off again for 3 months.
One of them is Moutinho who nearly teased our fanbase into a meltdown when we got nowhere near signing him 10 years ago, heady days indeed.
So Everton then and who may line up may depend on who stays or leaves before Thursday’s transfer deadline. I reckon it’s most likely that Tosun will start as our attacking focal point and with a career defining season ahead of him. No one can question his ability to finish but it was interesting to see Silva markedly compliment his striking prowess “in the box” as he’s inferred where Tosun is most at risk of falling foul of Silva’s plan with a mobile, athletic striker up there. Stopping short of stitching a third lung in Tosun’s chest there’s not much he can develop in that particular area.
Richarlison cost a load of money and looks to have a turn of pace about him with much less fucking about than we’ve seen from the usual Everton front 3. He’s looked reassuringly dangerous in his limited pre season so far. Walcott should start on the other wing anyway.
Somewhere in the midfield you’ll find Gueye and Sigurdsson but I reckon the Schneiderlin thing is going to fizzle out as despite the new boss’s compliments he just doesn’t seem suited to this Everton team, or indeed many Everton teams that weren’t widely loathed.
The defence is the big problem with hopefully the addition of Digne – who every time he scampers down the wing I find myself looking for a Georges Remi scribbled dog loyally running after him – is followed by a centre half or two who can both defend and run. A free market capitalist experiment of loads of centre backs needs to emerge with 2 survivors of the fittest or that high line is going to pain us bad until around Christmas at least.
Pickford returns as “property of England” so enjoy him being clapped by all the “I get what Tommy Robinson says” types at away games this season. Fine fucking goalkeeper though and one I hope we can put a team in front of that makes him and others view Everton as something more than a stepping stone, or generous pay day.
So a short preview to start the season but I’ve little idea whether to be excited, pensive or petrified. Maybe my lowered expectations is the exact fertile ground of patience to try and build an Everton team that gets me and you excited again.
There’s many senior figures on the payroll of Everton approaching this season as a make or break in their careers, this alone reassures that we won’t be seeing much complacency. Finding a team with an actual backbone that – heavens forbid it possible – bother to make intelligent runs into space when their teammate has the ball would generate a lot of goodwill in many of us and reinvigorate our weekend relationship with the club.
Forgive me for my guarded pragmatism above but mine is just a simple wish, and I’ll end on that.
Into them blues, these are shite.