Me Arl Fella Said So...

I'll never forget me arl fella and all he stood for.

I thought Martinez was going to do more after his first season and I was wrong. For all his talk, he lacks courage when it matters – just like the last guy.

At least your arl fella didn't see us unravel over the last two years.

Like you my Dad was a lifelong Blue, so we're my uncles, cousins, some of my friends, but not all of them. He told me tales about bunking in at Wembley for the 1933 Cup Final, about Dixie Dean, Tommy Lawton, who was not as good in his view. About being the Division 2 Champions, Division 1 Champions and winning the Cup in successive seasons. Only team to do it lad!

He told me about TG, Cresswell, Stein, Dunn and Gillick and Jack Sharp who now had a sportswear shop in town.

When he married my mum he went to live in Hans Road in Walton 5 minutes walk from Goodison. He took me to my first game for my 6th birthday present. Blackburn February 1954 in the old second division (1-1 draw Davey!) I remember he lifted me over the turnstiles so he didn't have to pay. I can just remember the sights, smells din, fag smoke around everyone's head.

At the end of the season we went up and the Shite were relegated. What a party in our house that night. I was slipped a drop of pale ale by an uncle and don't tell your mother son.

From then on we went together regularly until I started going with my mates back end of the 50s. Boys Pen but never saw Bill there!

Saw Carey's team become Cattericks teams and the greatest time to be an Evertonian in what was for a time the most famous city in the world. Saw Z Cars played for the first time.

Over time you begin to realise that success was a once a generation thing but we're not the type to be Glory hunters so we take the rough with the smooth but really enjoy the smooth when it comes along.

I was never brought up to hate kopites and used to go to Anfield with my best mate. I remember seeing Davey make his debut for them and scoring 2 goals I think. I think we rather pitied them in those days with their shabby little ground and all. I just don't think about them at all these days.

My sons are Blues these days and we have some great and angry debates on the way back from the match. My grandson, Jacob who is just turned 2 is being lined up to be the next one to be indoctrinated. I'm envious because it's never better than when you see what it means for the first time.

I wonder what my Dad would make of Roberto, Barkley and the rest. He wasn't one for swearing really but I think he would have shrugged and said nothing's for ever lad. It's still the best team in the land and It stands for the right things.

And it does.

Cheers dad.

Most of my older relatives. and I'm no spring chicken seem to have a soft spot for them and that is less understandable to me than marrying into them.

Mostly they are of a vintage that remembers both clubs being in the Second tier of English football and fondly recall going to each ground every Saturday.

But I have witnessed a change in some of their behaviours, they no longer wax lyrical about the good players from the other side, they no longer give praise when they have won - even when it's probably warranted - like most Blues of every age they have been worn down by the relentless, mickey taking and general lack of respect that our neighbours aim at them for being Evertonians, they are tired of the wall-to-wall coverage of that club and it's followers.

They have become sick and tired of seeing so many day-time none sport related TV programmes, where some 'ordinary' Joe from any part of the UK and beyond , adorns a brand new kit as worn by our rivals, more than likely supplied by the producers of the show.

Personally I've never really bought into 'winning' the derby being the be all and end all, possibly because I've witnessed so few victories, particularly on the other side of the park, and even when we have managed to do so, it's difficult to take the mickey out of them a) because they seem to disappear so quickly after any defeat b) because the media usually focus on their shortcomings rather than Everton's good performance.

But right now today, given the events of the previous 10 days or so, what would I give to see Blues leaving their ground singing and smiling? Quite a lot I can tell you, but not as much as I would give for those same fans leaving Wembley on Saturday night with that winning feeling.

If I could see two victories in our next two games, I would probably have to sell my soul to the Devil and start wearing their shirt in public for the rest of my life, could I? Would I? Yes I would.

I became a season ticket holder for all of the 1980s and was lucky enough to witness our greatest moments, including Sharpy's superb strike into the Anal Road end. I spotted myself on the pitch on MotD that night!

Your original post should be sent to each member of staff at our beloved club. They should be made to read it and realise what the club means to the fans and what beating the Shite at the Sewer would do for morale. I am not a Martinez supporter and want rid of him after the end of this sorry season, but I would dearly love to see him preside over a winning team at their place.

David Moyes oversaw a 3-0 surrender at Anfield before the semi against the RS in 2012. As sickening as it was it at the time there had at least been some belief that it could be justified with a winning performance in the "main" game.

As it turned out Davey had just kidded himself , and some of us.

The difference now is we can't even pretend that we're saving the best til last and I for one am dreading Wednesday night.

I'll admit it was Easter 1987 and the league was on the way so there was most definitely a bandwagon passing by, but everyone connected to that side of the family were Blue so I gladly jumped on.

Close to 30 years later and I've witnessed one FA Cup win while Man Utd have romped to everything. My brother included this in his Best Man speech at my wedding.

But what the fuck else would I have to moan about if I wasn't a Blue?

Every other Saturday our phone would ring with someone enquiring what the Liverpool score was. My grandmother took great pleasure hobbling to the hall to answer the phone and everytime she would give the callers the same bad news. "Oh I am sorry luv, we are two-nil down".

I found this phrase somewhere last week written by an unknown author:-

On particularly rough days when I'm sure I can't possibly endure, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100%... and that's pretty good."

No matter how many times the other lot knock us down the trick is. for us to get right back on our feet and try again, because one day it will be our day and the sooner that day comes the better.

Both managers with limitations but Moyes had fewer weaknesses than Roberto overall and his way was possibly more suited to managing a team in Everton who we were always told had to punch above its financial weight.

I thought Moyes did a steady solid job at Everton without ever being outstanding and it was always that familiar glass ceiling in his latter years despite getting us to more than respectable league positions.

For that reason alone I believed he stayed longer than he should have, but there is no denying he left the club with a very stable football team capable of top 6 challenges.

Martinez took on the role and of course finished one place higher in 5th ( maybe David Moyes would have done the same that season after all who knows).

But there can be no disguising the fact that what we have witnessed this last few years has been woefully short of the standards that this club should be aiming for.

Our home record has Wigan Athletic written all over it.

Another worrying pattern that has quickly developed once more is the inferiority complex existing away to the top teams, it's slowly going back to the mentality that plagued the Moyes era since Martinez mustered that solitary win at Old Trafford in 2013.

What happened to all the bold statements that once came from Roberto?
Going eye to eye at places like Manchester United and Arsenal and showing no fear!!

Its just evaporated now and the fans have as little faith going to those games as we did in the latter stages of the Moyes era when it became obvious nothing would change.

It felt like when Martinez took over and we finally won at Old Trafford that a new freshness had been uncovered, and finally there was some surprise element about supporting Everton for once.

These days it just feels oh so boring and predictable again, it feels stale already, the players look stale, the manager like little boy lost.

What do I want from the next six days??

Surprise me Everton..

Give me something I'm not expecting.

Go to Anfield and win 3-2 or beat United at Wembley, defy the supporters beliefs and prove us wrong just for once.

Just for once Everton be UNPREDICTABLE..

Wherever I was in the world, I would always call at the weekend, and all we'd talk about is the latest match.

We lost him in January this year, just shy of his 80th birthday. The thing I miss the most is those weekly phone calls, even though we'd usually end up arguing over who was good, and who was a sack of shite!

Wish I'd got to know him better, really. Although he told me tales of the 6-4 FA Cup win against Sunderland, and how great Tommy Lawton was etc, I never really mined the rich seam of his EFC memories. He took me to Panathinaikos in 1971, using the remainder of his 'compo' after an industrial injury. That got me some kudos as a kid in school!

My hatred of LFC developed quickly – the dread of going to school on Monday if they had won and we hadn't and the worst when they walloped us 5-0 at Anfield in (I think – help me here, Patrick) 1965.

I witnessed the 0-3 at Goodison in 1969, the 0-3 at Goodison in (?)2003 when I drove the 270 miles home with 2 Reds in my car, the 2012 semi-final defeat.... I think the only time I have witnessed a win was 2-0 at Anfield in 1970 when Whittle and Big Joe scored. I hate Gerard with a passion, the late Hughes almost as much whilst for some reason Rush has become less revolting with time as he seems quite a decent bloke for one of them!

I have my ticket for Saturday and whilst I know it is the more important game a win on Wednesday would mean so much to me at the moment.

He first took me to a game boxing day 74/75 I think. It was my xmas present. Two tickets to see us against Boro, sat in the Bullens Road,front row. That still remains the best xmas present ever as regards to how ecstatic I was. It was a drab 1 1 draw but I didnt care. I had been to see my idols for the very first time in the flesh. I didnt come down from my cloud for weeks.

We started to go regularly to the point when we got season tickets to which I still have to this day in the main stand. My dad developed the dreaded big C in 2005 and passed away in early 2006. I buried him in his Everton 1985 cup winnners cup replica shirt. My mum took over his ticket and still comes with me now. She is a sprightly 87 years young. She cannot go to night games anymore, but I have an able substitute in my daughter who I have indoctrinated. When we beat City in the 1st leg of the league cup, my daughter stared at me as I was celebrating at the end in amazement...."dad I have seen you happy before but never going as crazy happy as you are right now" I think good Everton performances do that to the fanatic I guess.

As to when I started hating the RS, well that happened at a very early age at primary school. Nobody had to tell me to despise them, it was inbuilt after all the shit I got on an all too regular basis. Everybody, and I mean everybody at primary school supported the RS. Probably due to the continued success through the 70s, they all latched on to them. I was like a deserted island in the middle of a vast empty ocean in my beliefs that Everton were superior. As ever, the RS have always been bad losers and even worse winners. Every Monday morning I had it down the banks at how much better they were and how crap we were. As to the derby games,this was in the middle of that god awful run of something like 7 consecutive seasons we failed to beat them, including the infamous 77 semi at Maine Road. However, as they say, every dog has his day and Andy King was my knight in shining armour. That stunner in 78 made all the shit I had to put up with all worthwhile when I got into school the Monday after. Oh I was insufferable. All the years of stick and pain at being an Evertonian was paid back in spades in that week. I just didnt let up and they had to take it. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

So onto Wednesday night. Im with you on this. I never want to throw a derby...theyre too important to me. I have RS neighbours all around me. Like you, in Martinezs first season I finally thought that we would get payback for all the hurt over the previous 15 years since 99. So confident was I, I even agreed to go to the pub to watch it with RS mates....something I would never previously have done. What a nightmare. I couldn't even bugger off either as that would just leave me open to even more ridicule so I stayed till the bitter end watching the biggest derby disaster since 82. Good job the ale was good, I was pretty slaughtered by full time. When I think back to all the good players who have worn the blue jersey, Labone, the holy trinity, Latch, Micky Lyons, Sharpy, Gray, Southall , Cahill et al...I could list so many more, what would they think of throwing a derby,regardless of the reasons? Can you imagine the high going into Wembley weekend on the back of a win at the khazi across the park? Yeah me too. As I say, its just too important to me to throw a derby.

Thanks for making me dredge up these memories John, cracking post mate.

Answer Number 2: As a season ticket holder, I travelled home and away from the south coast, only to hear from all the glory hunting ersatz gobshites how great "we" (their words) are. All the time I knew that not one of them had ever set foot in Anfield. That brought home the true nature of the gobshites.

My dad and uncle were of the same ilk. Being born in L4 in the sixties, my mother tells a story of her pushing me in my pram along County Road when my dummy fell out. A certain Ian St John picked it up and handed it back.

When my uncle came home from work, she told him the story and he took the dummy from my mouth and threw it in the fire saying "That thing will not go in his mouth after that bastard has touched it". So, for me, it all started as a babe in arms .

I was brought up to think of us as football nobility, we wore our successes gracefully and were effortlessly good (Dean, Lawton, T.G. Jones right through to the likes of Alex Young). The other lot were always somehow scratching around and scrabbling for crumbs, very much a Second Division club.

Shankly it was who changed it, of course, and though he was a delightful and utterly gracious man to meet, he brought to the surface the bumptious, gloating, vulgar nature that always lurked beneath the Kopite surface. They were the spivvy, new money sorts; they won nothing without rubbing it in, they lost nothing without it being an occasion for global complaint.

And so, over the last largely godforsaken 45 years, it has continued. Two especially horrible results , among the many, stick in my mind: a 3-2 comeback they made in, I think, 1970 after we'd won the title the season before and then, in the same season, their 2-1 semi-final win after Bally had scored. Looking back those were pivotal games, the bastards.

Your dad was right, though, John: our time will come again, indeed it will. May it start on Wednesday.

I first started going about 1960 with my Dad, uncle and grandfather (No red was ever allowed in the house) and the whole family was blue through and through.

My Dad is now 89 and had a stroke a couple of years ago when my mum passed but he is still very mentally alert and did not want Martinez and always praised Moyes for doing so well under the Kenwright regime..

When I was younger the banter with the other side was always humorous and friendly.

I think the turning point was following the 70s and their success in Europe they became arrogant and we became jealous and following Heysel we were robbed of our total dominance by their behaviour and the subsequent Euro ban.

There is no doubt that the authorities hold them in high esteem such that they seem to get everything going and even when we are successful they manage to cast a shadow over it somehow.

But this article had me literally laughing out loud, sobbing like a tart, and now I'm praying that your arl fella was right.

What a post!

I clearly remember not 'hating' them, but my dislike for them is now so intense I can hardly bring myself to talk about them.

There are so many different reasons I don't know if it was one in particular, or if it happened gradually. Growing up, half my mates were Kopites, now I only mix with them at funerals and weddings... I didn't realise that until now.

He would be shaking his head at what's happening right now, but would be as desperate as all of us to get two wins when it matters this week.

If the powers that be have their 'people' read this site I hope they can transfer some of our passion to the pitch. We might have a chance then.

As for the RS, maybe its because I don't live there, but the wins are more ingrained than the losses. In particular goals by King, Sharp and Cadamateri.
For the record we will get stuffed on Wednesday, Rom will do the business at Wembley, and we will have the new manager by July.
COYB

My dad was a Liverpool fan, as was my mum and my sister. Until I was 15, I was uncommitted, but slightly leaning towards the dark side.

At that moment, two brothers I know, started taking me with them to the Everton games. The rest as they say, is history.

Why am I telling you this .... 'cos the elder of the two brothers, was called, bizarrely..... John Daley!

My dad is a red and my first game was at Mordor, they beat Stoke 2-1 and Banks was in goal for Stoke and I hated the experience.

Fast forward a couple of years and having avoided football a new family moved in with lads my age and they were blue. a trip to Goodison followed and I found my new 'home'. There is nowhere like the Old Lady when we raise the roof, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

The Derby is still the first fixture I look for, but now with a hint of dread, but I will keep hoping.

Bizarrely, even though he was a blue, my old fella was one of those weirdos who alternated between watching Everton and the shite depending on who was at home. My Granddad on the other hand was a fanatical blue who saw everyone of Dixie's goals scored at Goodison. He worshipped him. He hated the shite and wouldn't even let any of the gobshites in his house.

The first time I realised I hated the shite was the Clive Thomas semi. I was at the game and something clicked with me that day at the justice of it all. I'll never forgive that cheating bastard Thomas. I've hated them ever since. I thought I might mellow as the years go by but that hasn't happened. I seem to hate them more as each year goes by as we always get the shitty end of the stick where they're concerned.

As for Wednesday it would be truly wonderful if we beat them, but I just can't see it.

As a red-headed (figuratively) beaten step child supporter, how and why I came to love Everton and my healthy hatred of the shite will pale woefully in comparison to other posts.

But I feel compelled to say this -

I wish to God someone would read your post about your Old Man in the locker room before the players take the field.

They'd not lose.

Brilliant, inspirational, touching.

Five minutes ago I was completely indifferent(ish) about the derby. Now I desperately want to see our players win at Mordor for you and for the memory of your Dad. As well for Harold Matthews, and a host of personalities I've come to "know" through TW over the years.

For the memory of some, and for some still gracing Terra firma, it is truly deserved.

Great read, by the way.

Dave Williams, sorry to hear that about your dad, and can see why you want to beat them so much.

I remember when as a seven year old kid, my own Dar, nearly threw me out of The Upper Glawdys St, when Andy King scored that goal against them. I realised that day what it meant to be a real Evertonian.

Sometimes when you go to funerals in this city, it hits home what Everton really means to so many people, when the priest, or someone reading out a tribute, prays that we can win something, for the person in the coffin!

John, like your dad, I too thought that Martinez, would do a good job. He might be failing miserably, but lets hope your dad was right, about him leading us to victory at Anfield once more.

I haven't been to that ground for a long time, but even when I did go, I refused to buy a ticket, and give them bastards any money. Getting older now, but one thing I will never let leave me, is the defiance I have for Liverpool.

Argue with any of them, that they might have more honours, but no fucking way are they better than us. We might be on the floor, but isn't that when we normally find some fight.

How else could we have played more top flight games than any other team, without it?

Back to the bitter shout, that they always refer? I prefer to think of us as just more honest. Don't let them kid us, and listen to the shouts, especially if we can beat them.

After reading this thread, I might just take a walk to Anfield on Wednesday night and hopefully see The Blues, give us back some of our pride. IN MEMORY OF EVERY EVERTONIAN, THAT HAS EVER LIVED XX.

As for the questions..

1) Parents/family.

2) Parents/family.

However re the second question, I have to give most of the..um..'credit' to my mother.

My (late) pater was undoubtedly a blue, but a very even-tempered and calm feller and not given to balling his fists and/or beginning sentences along the lines "I fucking hate...." (anyone really).

My (late) mam on the other hand (who came to Liverpool in the late 1940s from rural Roscommon in Ireland) 'friggin' hated' all sorts of people (the home counties English, everyone on telly, most of the people in our street..)

And top of her list was 'that shower of gobshites' and particularly 'that orange get' (?) - Shanks.

Any appearance from Bill could set her off..

"Look at him showin' off for the telly - HOO-HAR-HEE" (the second part of that was her unsubtle impression of the great man complete with mad facial expressions and hand gestures).

And why?

After they met, it seems dates for my parents often meant Goodison Park (not exactly David Niven my dad) and my mam fell hard for the blues.

As Liverpool were the enemy (and she took her enemies very seriously) she truly despised them for the rest of her life.

People tell me I'm generally 'very like' my dad, but re the lovable reds, I think I'm very very like my mam.

My Dad was a red but I was a diehard blue from a very early age. His uncle got to me with tales of Alan Ball and I was hooked.

Sadly our relationship was always fractious throughout his life and it was largely because of this. He died 2 years ago, had YNWA in flowers on his coffin and I mentioned in his eulogy that I nearly put him in an Everton shirt and that it was never too late!

He did take me to my first match though, I think it was a Friday night against Burnley, we drew 2-2 and a baldy bloke that looked 60 scored for them called Peter Noble I think.

I've always despised them and it's only got worse as the years have ticked by. They really are ugly winners and losers and I'll never forget one of their brethren gloating and laughing after the ban that at least Everton are out of Europe. Truly, ' outraged at everything, ashamed of nothing', sums them up perfectly.

The derby is every bit as important to me as the semi final. I'm hating seeing things on an upswing with Klopp, whilst we're full of 'nice boys' with no aggression, no nastiness and no winners.

As a result, I was never forced into being either Blue or red. My Dad left it to me. Most of his mates were rs and, even at an early age, they got on my nerves.

What swung it for me was the kit. I just loved the blue tops, white shorts and white socks. I even remember – age 7 – when some of his mates came around to our house in Bootle and my Dad made the announcement that I was a Bluenose. He then turned an EFC honours pennant he'd hung up on the wall so they could see it.

I still have the framed photograph of me – aged 7 (1973) with an EFC top, white shorts, white socks and number 7 ironed on the back. It was taken in Ariel Street, Bootle (just off Millers Bridge) where we lived until we moved to Walton in 1976. Just to sound very old (I'm 49), we used to play football as kids in the gaps between terraced houses on Ariel Street where the German bombs landed in WW2.

I've hated the rs since we lost to Villa in the League Cup Final in 1977. So-called rs mates knocking on the door to laugh. I was absolutely heart-broken we'd lost.

Strangely, my Dad converted to being a Blue because of me in the end. I worked abroad for a couple of years in the mid-1990's and every couple of weeks he'd send newspaper clippings of EFC in the post. I've still got them. I still remember phoning him when he was very ill in the immediate celebrations and uproar of Rooney's goal against Arsenal (Seaman). I just said, "Listen to this!" and held the mobile phone up so he could hear the roar of the crowd in the Top Balcony.

When my dad thought I was old enough he started taking me – 1960

I just thought it was normal to leave home about 12 o'clock for a 3 o'clock kick off as it took us 3 hours to get along Gt.Homer Street and County Road visiting various ale houses en route, waiting outside with a packet of crisps while my dad got be vied with his brother et al. For me there was never an issue we just all went to the match. Never went to Anfield.

The people I really admire are those supporters from around the UK and worldwide who don't have that sort of background yet are still as bigger supporters as us "locals". In fact in many ways they are bigger in the respect that in many ways they had a choice where we didn't , yet they still allowed themselves to be "chosen".

Although we argue and disagree on many things we should always take comfort in the fact we really are all one. The RS, even the locals, will never get this. When my dad thought I was old enough

As a 7-year-old sitting down to watch my first FA cup final(1986) I had a choice to make red or blue? Being Welsh Southall( I know he didn't play!) Ratcliffe and PVDH or Rush? I started watching and was instantly drawn to the Blues! Lineker scores and all is looking good! Then straight away my disdain for the other lot is born as they score 3 to ruin my first cup final (including 2 goals from Rush!)

Loved all things Everton since that day helped by a scouser living round the corner from me! First live game in '88... Cottee debut and I'm really hooked! What's really irks me is lots of Liverpool 'fans' near me in Swansea have never been to a match, know nothing about the team and as soon as Swansea got promoted 3 divisions are now suddenly huge Swans fans!

Let's hope for 3 huge wins to salvage a terrible season and I agree with some of the posters saying nice to have a positive thread!

Personally I'm not from the Liverpool area but I do have family there, my nephew had trials with Everton a few times though a lot of people can say that, still proud!

Anyway my family are split down the middle. Mam is a blue, one sister is blue the other red, I've got nephews blue and red. Obviously my kids are Blues. Every new born I prepare for battle! Dads not a football man, sits on the fence.

1. I'm old enough to have good memories of the 80s but I've been EFC as far back as I remember. It's true what they say.

2. Their just Fuckin smug, cocky, mouthy, self important twats who like to stroke their own ego. To put it politely. I include family in that too ha ha! I sussed that at a young age too.

He hated them and anything to do with them with a passion. This was supposedly at a time when togetherness was all the rage.

I also was one-eyed but not to that extent, yet over the years had a growing feeling they are the devils spawn. There is definitely something strangely mysterious about the way lady luck always shines on the dark side and never on us.

This Wednesday maybe just for once god will smile on his chosen people.

As a really small kid my Dad showed me the veins in my forearm and said "See them, that's 'cos your blood is blue" (it is, Mam & Dad are Blues and their parents were also Blues and before that there wasn't even St Domingo's). Pureblood.

Then one day I cut me finger and it was bleeding....... and it was red !!!!
So, I went to me arl feller and said "You told me that my blood was blue !"
He says "It is son, that's just weakness leaving your body !!".

The only downer for me was that my dad was a Kop season ticket holder! He just thought it would pass but he did take me to my first game v West Ham (Moore, Hurst and Peters) in Feb 67 for my 8th birthday present (Upper Bullens). I remember it like it was yesterday....we won 4-1, Temple scored and then got carried off on a stretcher. The game had everything and what an atmosphere. I was hooked!

My dad never set foot in Goodison again and my only other game in the next few years was when a blue neighbour took me to a 0-0 draw with Newcastle in 1970 (Street End).

I wanted to go to footy though so I let my dad take me to Anfield throughout the late 60s up to about 1973. I always supported the other team, whoever they were and the best moments were our 2-0 win on 1970 (Whittle and Royle) and seeing Man Utd with Charlton, Law and Best win 3-0 or 3-1 with a Charlton cracker). As soon as I was old enough to go on my own at 14 in 73 I started going to Goodison every week and only went to Anfield for Derby games. I can't even stand to watch Derbies now since the 89 Cup Final as I just get too wound up. Strangely though I will be watching the hammering this week....in the pub!

My most memorable Derby (even taking into account Sharpy's goal) was a 2-2 draw at Anfield in the late 70's that had everything. Mick Lyons lobbed George Wood for an oggy, McDermott and Gary Stanley got sent off for fighting and there was a female streaker down at our end at the Anfield Road.

I hate the RS due to all the cheating and spawniness that's gone on over the years. How many handballs in the box and spawny penalties have they had against us, when we've hardly got any against them. The Clive Thomas incident still rankles and the least said about the Heysal ban, the better. I now just resign myself to 4 games a year that we just will not win (RS and Arsenal) and should be miraculously do it à la the Andy King moment then all the better to enjoy it.

Saying all that though I hope we can do it one day soon for all the dads, including mine who, despite being a Kopite, is sadly missed after going in 97 from cancer at only 61. I remember that when my ultimate all time hero Bally left dad tried to take advantage of my misery by suggesting I now become a Red but by then there was no chance of that! One day dad we'll be back!!

Answers to your questions:

1. Me dad took me to my first game when I was 6. He was a chippy and made this contraption that had fold out legs. He propped it against the from wall and I spent the whole game with my chin just over the wall, watching white socks running past! Never looked back of course and ended up shouting with the rest of the blues as I grew up.

2. This has two parts a) All the shit I got from red shite fan mates at school when they won everything in the '60s & '70s (I was born in '61), followed by the real killer; Emlyn Hughes singing 'Liverpool are magic – Everton are tragic' when they brought the European Cup home. I don't care how pissed he was, that was and always will be unforgiveable.

It is more vital to me that I remember the experiences I had with my Dad going to the match and talking about Everton's past and present. And telling my sons and nephew the same stories, going to the match with them and arguing with them. And they develop their own stories and history. I'm looking forward to doing the same with my grandson and he can get the same experience and see his own heroes .

It's a living breathing thing this and we should never ever forget it.

Growing up in L15 in the Eighties us two were the only Blues in the street. All the RS scarves out on cup final day. My first footballing memory is the '86 final, closely followed by hand of god. I did enjoy cheering on Wimbledon in their famous cup final win.

Strangely, my dislike of them took a while to ferment. I was too young for the politics of Heysel but as I got older I noticed this more and became more annoyed. My old man was adamant the 1989 FA Cup Final shouldn't have been played and I tend to agree. Nobody won that year, and a game of football, even a cup final, pales in significance to what happened in Sheffield. Was it Colin Harvey who said a cup win "would have been like taking the pennies from a dead mans eyes"?

The maudlin remembrance of Hillsborough whilst Heysel was airbrushed into history. The legions of plastic supporters. The sheer fucken luck the bastards get. McCallisters derby goal. The no goal off the back of Hutchinson. Gerrards hat trick. The FSW and his small club jibes. The Alaves final. The Distin semi. Even the year we finished above them, the bastards had Istanbul.

It says a lot about Everton that my outstanding memory of the last few years, apart from Oviedo at OT, was Gerrard's slip.

Unlike John Daley, I've never believed that we would be back on the top of them. My whole life they've been better, and I've no belief whatsoever that will ever change. Supporting Everton is like hoping Tom will get the better of Jerry. It's never going to happen.

With "one eye on the cup semi" I'm expecting our umpteenth hiding at the tin mine. I for one will not be watching. I loved the Chelsea game but its been a blip on some horrific performances. West Ham obviously, but the team was so soporific against Palace that I shan't bother watching them again unless it's the final. It's the hope that kills you.

(1) Who (or what) sewed the seeds of your Everton supporting life?

My Dad - the most one eyed Evertonian I ever met. Preceded Harold to the celestial city in 2006 at the age of 82.

(2) Who (or what) first alerted you to the Antichrist like arseholery of the arch-enemy?

My Dad - I picked up the Football Echo the night THEY were promoted from the Second Division and asked him "who are they"? He had successfully sheltered me from the dark side up until then and strange as it may seem none of my mates were one of THEM.

However the dislike for everything connected with THEM sort of came naturally to me. I put this down to the fact that Evertonians are born not manufactured so naturally as the first born child of an Evertonian I inherited the + PLUS BLUE Chromosone and the - MINUS RED Chromosone.

As a result of this genetic blessing when I first heard the voice of Emelyn Hughes on the telly it triggered an allergic reaction in me ( I start growling and muttering and gnashing my teeth) from which I am glad to say I have never recovered.

I believe this is why when derby day comes around any rationality, common sense, caution, strategy etc etc I am possessed of goes out the window, the BLUE mist comes down and I just want to go to war with THEM.

I have read through all the recent posts about saving ourselves for the Semi Final and sending out a weakened team to Anfield. My reaction to that is NEVER! We must go to fight for "the boys in the Royal Blue jersey" - past and present (remember your dads my friends).

So as this is not football but a battle of wills and minds and pride, on Wednesday night Martinez needs to pick the MEN. By that I mean players with the heart and stomach for it. Players, who if they suffer a setback, will get off the deck and tear into THEM. Because believe me THEY will want to trample us into the dust at their midden and we must not allow that to happen.

UP THE BLUES!

I started to play footie with my mates but we didn’t have a TV to watch games and I remember going to my best friends house to watch the World Cup final in 1966. Can’t remember who won – it’s hardly ever been mentioned again in the media.

As a fickle kid I flirted with a few teams – Nottm Forest, Stoke City, Our Redneck cousins and Newcastle to name a few. None really hit the spot and it wasn’t until I watched the 1968 FA Cup final on our own recently acquired TV and I knew Everton didn’t deserve to lose that game that I was hooked and have been ever since. (That was the last FA cup final where both teams wore their away strips.)

My bedroom walls adorned my heroes from then on and I used to send off for programmes and all other kind of Everton merchandise. I still have those programmes somewhere. My Dad wasn’t a football man, we used to watch MOTD and he’d say something like “That Pat Jennings would be a better keeper if he got his hair cut.” The weird thing is, we’d watch TOTP and he’d say “That Marc Bolan would be a better singer if he got his hair cut.” I’d discovered a theme with my Dad and the new pop culture expolsion. He wasn’t a fan.

Then the troubles came. I came home from secondary school one day and the busy town centre had been converted into a pedestrian precinct and cars were stopped from entering by dirty big concrete blocks and permanent Police checkpoints and barriers. It didn’t stop the terrorists. They set off a car bomb on a busy street near the town centre and blew six pensioners to kingdom come.

Football was an escape from daily death and destruction news reports of the early seventies and we played anywhere we could. The banter from the rivalry was great craic and sometimes spilled over to fallouts and fights with friends. I was too young to travel to a game myself then but in 1985 I left home by myself and got the Belfast/Liverpool ferry and went to see The Blues clinch their first League title since 1970 with a 2-0 win over QPR. What a day that was and I’ve still got some photos of the celebrations somewhere.

A year later I moved to London and went to the Toffees games at all the grounds in the capital. I remember one game at Loftus Road where a TV company was filming a Gazza- style story about a footballer who became famous and they asked the crowd at half-time to pretend they were watching England playing someone. Every time they began filming the Blues fans broke into “Ever-ton, Ever-ton, Ever-ton.”

I’ve been to Wembley quite a few times to see us in FA cup finals, charity shields and a 4-1 defeat by Palace in the famous Zenith Data Systems Cup final when Bob the Pole scored our goal. I can’t afford to go these days as I only work part-time now and have just heard I’m being made redundant in July but hopefully in the future, who knows? Hope is the only thing as an Everton fan I have these days.

The other side of the family however were rabid match going Blues.

When I went from the Infants School to Junior School day one me and 2 others were 'gripped' as the saying goes by big lads... red or blue they said, 1st lad blue, 2nd lad blue, me (not daft) blue.

Anyway it came to pass that Bonny Night was on a Saturday that year and we were all down to go to my uncle's but as he always went to the match all the men folk young or old, blue or none denominational, got dragged there too. (Via the 500 from Speke.)

I was totally hooked and blown away by the whole thing; The flood lights, the red brick stands going up to the sky, the vast blue and white stands of Archie Leitch, the green expanse of grass, the crowds inside and out side, the police horses, the smell of horse shit and piss both equine and human, cigarette smoke, the noise... the whole 'roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd'.

The game Vs WBA finished 1-1 our goal was an OG, but the main thing that stuck in my memory was little Bobby Collins squareing up to a WBA grock of a centre half... who had the good sense to back down.

The RS – pah; they obviously signed their pact with the devil just before Sandy's OG and have been cashing in ever since... but if the cost of titles is a pile of bodies they're welcome to it. Twats.

Without the Merseyside upbringing I never really despised the gobshites more than any other of our rivals. Until I starting going to games regularly in the 90's with a guy who was as bluenose through and through. We were put in contact because he was playing golf with a work colleague. He hit a tee shot and lost his tee, my colleague picked up a red tee, 'That's not it – I never use a red tee, I'm an Evertonian'.

Anyway we were going up to Goodison for a game and we overtook this car on the M6. The car had a Everton stickers on the rear window, an Everton scarf on the parcel shelf, EFC number plate, the occupants were all wearing Everton colours. Any other car we passed with Everton fans evident would get a car horn blast and a fist pump etc. etc. This particular car got extreme abuse, this abuse lasted all the way to Goodison, all because the car was red. Therefore my hatred of the redshite and anything red, was ingrained from that journey.

"I remember one game at Loftus Road where a TV company was filming a Gazza- style story about a footballer who became famous and they asked the crowd at half-time to pretend they were watching England playing someone. Every time they began filming the Blues fans broke into “Ever-ton, Ever-ton, Ever-ton.”

Hilarious. Naughty boys.

Kopites Are Gobshites; Fact!

Me arl fella took me to my first game in 1984 and used to carry me over the turnstiles – super cheap for little ones back then! We beat Forest 5-0 and I absolutely loved the place and everyone around helped lift me up to see the action every time the Blues crossed the half way line. Me arl fella was in the army so we only got to games when visiting his arl fella or when posted nearby but took in as many as possible. I think we won every game I went to for years and the arl fella used to say I was Everton's lucky charm.

Began to hate the RS at school as one of my best mates was one of them – I was always the only Toffee at school and used to defend us fiercely but the Kopites were always the biggest gobshites of the lot!

I am hoping me and me arl fella watch 2 great victories this week (but not expecting it) and that we dance around like a pair of 2-year-olds. COYB!

Me arl fella is a blue, I'm a blue, seemed to be the way it went, though my two brothers are RedShites. Still got the hat and scarf (cup winners and league champions) I was bought, which is my earliest memory from a match, but not my first. Since then I've passed that hat and scarf on to my lad (much to my daughters annoyance), my dad was well shocked when I told him I'd passed it on, not because I did, he just never knew I still had them.

As for those red cunts, well it's just natural isn't it, growing up with two RS brothers, being the minority in school but never out shouted. Though it didn't hit hard at the time, the European ban against us hit me harder in later life, once I realised how it affected us.

It's hard to explain how much I hate those cunts, every derby (or in fact every time I talk of them) I turn into, well, thee most horrible twat you could imagine, swearing, smashing things up, fighting, I've done it all. And though I ain't looking forward to Wednesday, I probably think we'll get beat, there's no way I'm going to miss it and not cheer on my beloved blues. Bring it on you red cunts.

My dad was taken from us in 2003, aged 71. He was taken ill one Sunday afternoon. The doctors thought it was kidney stones. Got a phone call from my twin brother at 5am on the Tuesday to tell me he'd died.

He felt Moyes would be a good fit for Everton and that Rooney was the future. He'd said for years that Everton had some of the finest footballing talent on their doorstep and they needed to harvest it. I genuinely think that us selling Rooney would have been the last straw for my dad as an Evertonian.

He wouldn't have approved of Moyes's KITAP1 approach. He admired the Dogs of War for their competitiveness but longed for getting back to our football traditions. Like your 'arl fella John, he would have enjoyed Martinez' first season and the return to the School of Science built on young talented players. He'd be pretty destroyed by this season.

One thing that has shielded our misery for the past decade has been that the RS have spent a fortune and are still miles off winning the league. They last won it only a few seasons after we last won it. I do sense a bit of a turn in their fortunes though. Klopp will be a good fit for them and when he gets his own players in, they could be a force in English football again. Teams seem to be falling over themselves to make this so (Man Utd, Chelsea, City, Arsenal and us have been woeful this season).

The one optimistic note for tomorrow's game is that when we seem to have no chance against them lot, we tend to do better. Thinking back the Big Dunc / Joe Royle derby. Cadamarteri derby etc. When we've been fancied, like the semi-final, we don't show up.

Absolutely brilliant! Sums up being an Evertonian entirely.

Even if Tom did get the better of Jerry, it might not work out well.

Remember when a certain Mr Coyote eventually caught the Roadrunner?

Link

As for the Reds, I don't have any distinctive reasons for or stories about hating them. I just do. My best mate growing up was a Red, so I know how to be polite and objective when needs be, but up here I don't have any reason to hold back now. My partner is the witness to my passionate dislike and, though she's very knowledgeable about the game, can't really understand it. Perhaps being a (distant) Leed's fan has removed the passion gene.

My arl fella, when he lived with his parents lived above the car dealership on Gwladys Street (now it is the chippy) and him and his brother were season ticket holders.

I remember Saturdays being left with my Auntie and Grand mother when my arl fella and his brother went the game.

Then, the one day I was hoping for happened. The brother wasn't going so I went with my dad.

It was an eye opener all right. We were sat in the upper tier of the Main Stand and there were, shall we say, very vocal people around us. Probably the first time I heard the "C" word.

I was also close to getting thrown out, as I was spitting over the edge onto the fans below, the uppity little scrote that I was when I was younger.

I was hooked and now 30+ years and no hair left later I don't regret a single day since.

The dark side wasn't that dark when I was younger, as we were sharing the titles between us.... but then that "Wall thing" happened and the hate started because the best team we ever had disbanded and things haven't been the same since.

And I bet he'd make a decent manager too.

My grandfather and father were both so blue even the word red was banned! So naturally I also became a blue and have been since my first game at Goodison (in the Boys Pen – probably stood next to you know who!) in 1959 vs Charlton in cup replay – played in thick fog and the Daily Express had a headline the next morning "The Greatest Game Never Seen".

Having read your piece John, I really want Martinez to win for not only your goodself and the arl fella – but for the rest of the long-suffering blues – then I want him to fuck off!

My lads middle name is Everton and though him and his sister have cockney accents, they're blue to the bone, when one accuses the other of being a red, fuck me, a no holds barred fight breaks out, not worth getting between them (who am I to get involved).

Plus and some may judge me in a bad way, before my two had a combined age of eight, they knew most anti-red songs, most noticeably, the one that ends in "Fuck off, McMahon, Fuck off McMahon." (No wonder me and their mum didn't last.) It's just the way it is for me, hate them.

How my great nan used to walk from park road to Goodison and back every home game. How he danced and jigged out of the grenadier with my mums dad when we won the cup in '66. There are hundreds more to be told and I suppose that can be said for most of us.

My great regret though is not picking the brains of my dads da enough. He used to tell us about the great teams of the 30s and 40s. He had a great one about a derby either during war time or just after and Everton drafted in a winger from a local regiment called Cuthbert Tatters who if my memory serves me right tore an arsehole out of Liverpool for 45 minutes of the game. I know there will be someone out there who can elaborate on this. Needless to say, they kicked him off the park and I think he was subbed.

Question 2: Quite simple really – Emelyn Hughes.

After that, Burnley away in the FA cup 1967. My dad drove me and my 2-year-old sister and my mum who was pregnant at the time in our clapped out Ford Anglia, and most importantly in this memory our dog Dusky, who was a jet black Labrador. Dad dropped mum and sister and dog, who was resplendent in a blue and white scarf, somewhere and me and my Dad went to the match.

Cannot imagine that scenario nowadays. Mum went shopping and Dad bought her a box of Black Magic chocolates. Obviously we met up at a pre designated place after the game, but I wasn't party to that. I just remember a wonderful adventure.

Happy days, and I equally blame my Dad and revere him for making me an Evertonian. I really wouldn't have it any other way.
Hundreds of similar memories, thanks dad, My Arl Fella.

January 1944

Dave Williams @13,

So sorry to hear about the recent loss of your father. My condolences to you and your family.

Dave Ganley @15,

Love the fact you still go the game with your old queen. Good man. Just remember though: "you're never too old for a good clip round the ear". Give him one from me Mrs Ganley! (Dave, I mean. Not Martinez. We've had enough pitch invaders trying to get at him this week).

Jamie @32,

Only a ginner in a figurative sense? Shame on you. Don't start up with any of that 'strawberry blonde' shite on here. Be proud of your Lion O style mane, like those other illustrious red tops: Moyes, Cilla and that kid with the colossal head that looked kind of like a wheelie bin wearing a wig from the crap Cher movie 'Mask'.

I don't remember my dad, he died before I was one, never remembered any of his family, when he passed away that was the end of any connection with them, so I went to the match with my mates, first time at Anfield, they won 4-0, next week went to Goodison, we lost 2-0 to Arsenal, 1948, I fell in love with Everton, Liverpool and Anfield did nothing for me.

Haven't missed many games at Goodison since, last Saturday was one, I will always be there God willing but it is hard now, the club is being neglected by people who should care more, Saturday will be there at Wembley with Tony, Cameron and Alfie, four generations of blue noses, hope for the best, especially Cameron and Alfie, they have seen us win nothing along with my other grandson Sonny who is old enough to go with his mates, they all love the Blues, sorry lads, maybe on Saturday you will see us get to the final.

Eugene I wish I could have met your mam, I would have really liked her, she was right about Shankley, I couldn't stand the man either, we could have cursed him together.