The DA

The DA continues the Mitre Football cities united tour

I’m bound to be in trouble over the next few weeks. One of the major obstacles in finding the best footballing city all on one glorious Saturday afternoon per location, is that some cities are obviously quite well known for being divided by footballing loyalties. As a tourist for the day unfortunately I have to pick one or the other which of course will lead to one side calling this entire tour a crock of s***…Hopefully just one side anyway… But my two defences would be A) as a neutral it’s not so much about the sides and their history, but about the atmosphere of the city and how enjoyable a day watching the football can be for the casual visitor and B) in this case, I own more blue clothes than red. Hence why Everton represented my trip to Liverpool, and why, before I have to explain myself all over, Manchester City will be the representatives next week. If it makes anyone feel any better about the situation, I feel simply horrible, and if anyone ever wants to give me a free ticket to Anfield – or perhaps a new red jumper, I’ll be more than happy to compare.

That said, Everton can not be dismissed as a poor choice. For example did you know they hold the record for consecutive seasons in the top flight now standing at 108 years? Did you also know that Liverpool were only formed after a bust up between the Everton board and the owners of Anfield?…Yes, that’s right, you did hear Wikipedia correctly, Everton used to be the tenants of Anfield! And finally, did you know that 36,000 or so supporters regularly attending home games at Goodison Park make the Toffees one of the top supported teams in the entire country? As I say, there is no belittling to be done here, Everton are a huge side and demand respect as a genuine part of the city of Liverpool. There history, whilst not quite as showered in silverware as their near neighbours, is substantial and I for one have them to thank for one of my earliest footballing memories. For those who don’t remember Barry Horne, or that goal he scored past Wimbledon’s, in hindsight’s, paid off goalkeeper Hans Segers, to keep Everton up on the last day of the season watch this….And also note he appears to be a chemistry teacher now. Mr Horne is rather an unfortunate teaching name wouldn’t you say?

My four hour journey had been eased talking to some West Brom fans also making the trip north, who were telling nonstop stories about other trips they’d had to various different football venues. My personal favourites included getting some snacks from an on fire chippy and the day the group watched on as their drunken friend got his head caught in some train doors. The entertainment was added to by the fact the train toilets were all out of order and a 2 hour train ride drinking nothing but cheap lager had left some of them a little caught short. It was all immensely enjoyable for the spectator.

Having arrived in the grandeur that surrounds Liverpool station I was immediately inspired by a big old billboard to go find the second main attraction of Liverpool city, the home of the Beatles. Liverpool, in my life time has been known for 3 things: Football, those ‘calm down’ guys from Harry Enfield and the Beatles. They are clearly very proud to have developed the ‘music changing’ band, and to be honest, who wouldn’t be? It will no doubt of infuriated the city last week when an American news report credited the Beatles to Manchester…They might as well have said that Oasis were true Liverpudlians. All around the city centre there are Beatles references. Constant posters, bars named after the band members and their music blasting out from various different stores. I headed for the ‘Beatles story’ on Albert docks desperately hoping I’d have time to take the tour before dashing off to catch the afternoon game.

I was greeted by a man dressed up as a Beatle directing tourists over the loud album tracks being pumped out behind him. He nodded acknowledgement of my presence and I asked him whether the music on repeat all the time drove him mad. ‘Oh no’ he said defensively, ‘there’s so many hits I barely hear the same one in a day’s work.’ Luckily for him I guess that he doesn’t work at the Victoria Beckham story or somewhere equally hell like. With a rapport building, and noticing the price of admission was a hefty £12.95 I asked him whether or not it was possible to whizz round the tour in half hour or so. He looked at me like I had just shot his cat. It was a look that said ’sum up the Beatles in half an hour? Are you mad?!’ He regained his composure and informed me that that wouldn’t be possible so I headed back out onto Albert Dock, sad in the knowledge that I’d know no more about the band than I had done when I’d arrived that morning. What I had been able to do though was take a stroll around a freezing cold dock and appreciate how nice this must all have been when the weather was slightly better…

Having been to quite a few cities now I must say we underrate many of the UK’s venues. Like so many that had gone before it Liverpool’s high streets were bustling and interesting, filled with appealing looking coffee shops and bars, lit up for the Christmas season and offering added extras like markets and fairground rides. Despite all the regular brands names filling the shops, it amazes me how different places can be in such close proximity of each other. The change of dialect on the ride from Birmingham to Liverpool rather summed that up. We do live in an awesome country, and I think we forget that sometimes.

Spirited by the morning so far I hopped on the Liverpool metro to get along a few short stops to Kirkdale, the station in close vicinity of Goodison Park. Around the stadium there is a really welcoming feel to the place. A famous old comparison says that Everton and Liverpool can be told apart by their two tunnel signs that greet players on arrival. Anfield has the rather unnerving ‘This is Anfield’ whereas the Toffees go for the homely approach of ‘Welcome to Goodison.’ Around the ground fanzines are being sold, the regular burger vans and outlets are open for business and the stewards are all having a bloody good laugh with each other. This is another club where familiar faces have formed friendships by coming to watch their team. Some of the stewards were in fact very, very funny as I listened in on some of their banter. ‘A copper came up to me last week and said “you got anything on you you shouldn’t have?” and I said “yeah, me Mrs’s underpants’ was just one example. He also had one about Bernard Matthews which I shall refrain from repeating…But rest assured, it was pretty good.

Reading the fanzine I discovered that there was a pub called the Blue Liver Bird which delightfully only showed an England game if there was more than two Everton players playing in it, which I thought was brilliant. God knows the last time any of them saw an England game. I wondered whether in the recent past Leighton Baines and Phil Jagielka might have made it onto the same team sheet but I’m not so sure. For anyone who’s a far better researcher than me, that’s a good quiz question for. When was the last time it happened? These guys may not have even discovered colour TV yet!

Inside the ground I commended Everton on the choice of their sponsor, as Chang beer really does go down rather better than the usual p*** you get at football stadiums, and took my seat to learn that at Goodison Park, an obstructed view really is exactly what it says on the tin. I have never seen a football pitch made up of a goal net, a half way line and then a big metal pole but that’s what my view was showing me. I decided I’d have to ask those around me politely to inform me when a goal went in. The stadium was impressive though, and having not changed too much in recent years, bought back a lot of memories, witnessed previously only through a television camera. It was a fantastic throw back, a bit like Portsmouth, in the sense it was surrounded by terraced housing and clearly formed part of a community. A church building was prominent in one corner of the ground for example.

Much like Portsmouth however, it seemed with Everton tickets you paid £30 a seat to house just the one bum cheek and an actual full body ticket would cost you at least £60. I found myself wedged in between my neighbours once more thanking the heavens that I hadn’t put on any extra pounds recently. I really don’t know what these stadiums do when an absolute fatty wanders into the ground. People could genuinely go missing under all the flab.

One of my absolute favourite parts of the day is the pre-match promo video which features great moments from Everton’s past. The whole clip seems to be broken up by a black and white image of Joe Royle winking in slow motion, possibly one of the most seductive winks you’ll ever see in a football ground. It’s as if to say ‘Joe’s watching you’ and that fact makes everything all right. I half expected to hear a swooning noise from all the female quarters of the ground but Joe’s sheer presence must have stunned them into silence.

With Joe’s wink still on the mind, the game kicked off, and having boldly predicted that Everton would cruise it, I was pleased to see West Brom take an early 2-0 lead. Chris Brunt’s freekick was in fairness, magnificent (I know because I watched it on Match of the Day, not because I was able to see past my pole) and even a vintage Tim Cahill header didn’t seem to rally the home troops that much.

Yakubu looked very sluggish up front, and appeared to have put on a lot of weight in recent times. Put it this way, I wouldn’t want to have sat next to him that’s for sure! Baines looked lively down the flanks but no one seemed particularly keen to pass to him. And Steven Pienaar seemed to have a close relationship with the floor, as he spent vast periods of the games lying flat on his face hugging it. It all could’ve changed when substitute Jermaine Beckford went clean through on goal to level the scores but unfortunately for him, and Everton, he shot straight into the keeper and led to the moment in play when Mikael Arterta decided it best to have a stamp on his West Brom counterpart. His sending off swung the game back in the favour of the visitors who happily left with a 4-1 score line. I felt sorry for Beckford who looked lively and quick throughout. It’s such a shame when a prolific goal scorer like him just can’t settle at a club.

Overall the day was filled with happy faces amidst a very likeable city. I even learnt a new word…t***ing, which is filling up many of my current sentences. It’s most enjoyable to say. But don’t let my immaturity tarnish your view on the city of Liverpool. It’s a t***ing great place to go!

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