Revelations on a very special Everton Night witnessed by Ian MacDonald

 A NIGHT TO REMEMBER — 100 Seasons Gala Dinner

No, this is not a tale of that ill-fated Titanic maiden voyage — although that sad ship's journey was mentioned later in the story I'm about to tell.

This is the tale of the great ship Everton and those who have sailed with her over the years and especially the 100 proud (in the main) seasons that make up a celebration no other team has or can first accomplish now.

We are the first club to reach that great landmark of 100 seasons in top-flight football.  Like Billy Bingham once said, "Bang the drum when you win something," and boy did our club bang the drum on Saturday night in a unashamedly nostalgic and proud way.  We have won the right to say we did it first; we wrote history yet again.  I hope I can conjure up just a glimpse of what occurred at St George's Hall on this special occasion.

It all started for me last week when unexpectedly an invitation came by post.  I've been to many Everton do's and believe me this was no ordinary invitation; you had to unwrap a blue ribbon to reveal a ticket enclosed by pictures of:

• the late great Harry Catterick scoring a goal against Sunderland in 1945; 
• Greame Sharp celebrating a goal against Southampton in a 4-0 win; 
• the 1984 goalscorers with their manager and the FA Cup;
• Goodison Park as it looked in 1938; 
• Dixie Dean leading his team out against West Ham in the FA Cup semi-final of 1933; and lastly 
• the great man again with his teammates showing off the FA Cup in celebration at Lime Street.  

And this was just the invitation!

Strictly Black Tie, it said on the actual ticket...  Panic set in!  I did not possess a dinner suit.  So I rang Moss Brothers to tell them to get the cotton pickers on overtime — I needed a dinner suit pronto!

Saturday did not come quick enough — although, after last week's Adelphi do, maybe too quick in hindsight and liver watch.  In the morning, I went to Moss Bros to pick the suit up.  Never being there before, I enquired to a postman in Bold Street as to where the shop was.  He pointed to a shop not twenty feet away; D'oh!  When in the shop, I asked for the suit ordered for Homer Simpson as I told the tale of what happened outside.

At about half-five, I got ready — just as England kicked off against the might of Liechtenstein.  I wondered if our new "Dixie" was to get a game with all these old England players; Wayne is just 17 — an incredible story to date.

I went downstairs to get our kids' approval of my new suit.  "Do I look like James Bond?"  Our youngest Michael quipped back, "Well if you do, then James Bond has let him self go!"  Kids are cruel.

My long-suffering wife, Pat, dropped me off at our venue for the night — and what a venue: St George's Hall, no less.  The great hall is currently under wraps for outside refurbishment surrounded by scaffold and screening declaring our intent for the bid of the City of Culture.  I was not ready for what else it was hiding inside...

A tunnel was created like the path to a Pharaoh's tomb although the intent was to make it look the tunnel players negotiate to grace the field of play.  Pictures adorned the walls of past victories, FA cup wins, and the league championship wins of past years.  I'm sure I also saw the all-conquering Dixie in a chariot being adorned with petals from an adoring crowd...  The tunnel's path led me to a mere mortal, the Commissionaire in all his regalia.  He looked at my ticket and waved me on.

Once inside the building, my jaw dropped at what my eyes beheld.  Thoughts rushed back to my first match, my meeting with Father Christmas, and the birth of my children.  Captain Sensible inside told me to take all this in and remember it for the rest of my life.  In front of me was a 3-ft diameter ice-carved statue of the Dixie-Dean 100 seasons logo — incredible in its looks and workmanship.  Either side of the carving were silk sheets, with the same logo, continuously waved by a fan to give the impression of it dancing to the heavens.  Super troopers also with the logo shone onto the impressive hall's ceiling like the call for Batman in Gotham City or the night of the Oscars.  As the beacons shone, you could see the fantastic ceiling of this great tribute to our city hall.  I noticed the Black Liver Bird on our City's crest.  To this day, I see no reason why this bird cannot be interwoven with our club's crest.  We were formed first, the premier club in this city of ours.

A centre side stage and main stage had a blackened background with what seemed a million stars shining through as if it was the night sky seen by the Pharaohs.  My head was on a swivel now, like a kid in a toyshop wanting to see everything there was to be had.  In front of me lay tables set as if they were in the first class dining room of the Titanic, but something told me this night was not going to be a disaster.  The atmosphere was of expectancy.  The ladies present looked regal and magnificent.  Men were dressed accordingly, some in Kilts.

A free bar beckoned and a familiar face; I was alone for a minute but not alone (if you know what I mean) when I surveyed some of the past and present players and managers around me tonight; truly it was a galaxy of stars.  'Order water, Ian,' — a first thought that degenerated to a shandy and, as the night wore on, white wine, then Bailey's.  So the rest of the story may not be in the right order, but I'll try.

As I mingled with the friends I knew there, the common statement was ˜Wow!'

We were called to order and to our tables.  I asked an usher for help in finding my seat; he produced a virtual Who's Who regarding Everton in the form of a guest list.  There were 520 guests for this night to remember — and I was privileged to be one.

I sat with a great Evertonian family and was made really welcome.  I felt at ease but still in awe of the occasion; I kept touching my bow tie to see if it had started revolving — I'm just a simple Bootle lad.  A large menu was laid in front of me, it was six inches wide and about two feet long.  On the front it was predominately white with the 100-season logo on — I still keep thinking Dixie is carrying a butcher's knife!  It read: "The Official 100 Years Gala Dinner."  On the back were hand-written individually signed autographs of the present first-team squad.  Inside was a program of how the events of the evening would unfold, and the menu itself, which consisted of a seven-course dinner.  Again, as in the invitation, the two pages inside were surrounded by triumphant scenes from our football history.  A great keepsake and a momento to remind me in later years that this night really happened!

A quartet played in the background on the main stage — I couldn't tell you if it was Rivaldo or Figo they played, sorry!  Later on, this quartet as by musical chairs in reverse expanded into the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra — I kid you not!  Every musician dressed up to the nines...  And, speaking of nines, there were plenty of our past centre-forwards around in this magnificent hall.

A Scotts Piper came into the hall followed by two chefs carrying the beef joint to be eaten later on.  Flaming skewers on each corner of tray carrying the beef.  The orchestra turned into a jazz band and, as we ate, the tempo went up into a crescendo when the Blues and Royals regimental band came in to the tune of... guess what?  Z-Cars!

Slowly, as if in a far distance, the flute pipes came reverberating into the spacious hall, filled by notes that played right into you heart, your inner soul of being an Evertonian.  Everybody stood up, as did the hairs on the back of your neck.  That tune, that feeling; it's like a siren's call; I dare you not to be moved by this song inspired by Johnny Todd.  If you were tested to determine if you were an Evertonian, your captors would just have to play this record and your Everton identity would be given away, in an instant.  Someone said this tune should boom out more loudly when the players take the field, putting fear into the opponents before a ball is kicked.  Fair comment!  It's a stirring song all right.

The Blues and Royals the played Land of Hope and Glory; with our forces once again in conflict in Iraq, those present in the hall gave the song their all.  Alan Ball was stood on a chair waving his white serviette and he was not alone; many, many fans, men and women, did the same — it was a statement of backing our forces and being proud of our country; you had to be there to understand it all.

At eight o'clock prompt, we all stood up for grace and a toast to this great club of ours.  In order for the guests to get a better view of the night's proceedings, four large state-of-the-art plasma TV screens were on show.  The planning of this event had taken nine months and, to be honest, it looked like time well spent.  Meticulous in its design; well done, everyone involved.  You did this club proud; thank you.

Michael Dunford was the first speaker to the center side stage.  Michael asked to spare a thought about the many Evertonians currently fighting in Iraq; that got a resounding ovation deservedly.  It reminded me of the call I got the other week from a friend to put BBC 1 on now!  I replied "I'm at work; what is it about?" He replied, "You're not going to believe this, Ian, but there's a convoy of British tanks on their way to Basra and on the front of one is a sign saying 'Rooney's gonna get yer!'  I told Sharpy; he said that the club has been inundated with requests from Evertonians in the forces in the Middle East for pictures and flags and the story is possibly true.  Even the soldier who got saved by his helmet when hit four times by bullets is an Evertonian.

After his speech, Michael introduced the MC for the night, Elton Welsby, a great Evertonian who has flown the flag for Everton whilst presenting for Granada TV in the past and now at Century Radio.  One of his first guest speakers was another great unashamed Evertonian: Bill Tidy, the cartoonist in retirement now but coaxed out to this tribute night.

Bill came to the staged flanked by Darren Griffiths, a good lad, and his colleague Mark Rowan.  Why were they there?  Well Bill had drawn a 150 foot mural of Evertonians and their call to the team since the 19th Century.  Bill had plotted our fans' history with events around the world.

How the fans' dress code had changed.  An Evertonian stowaway on Wilbur Wright's plane showed how he could improve the plane if he was told how Everton got on with Villa.  A Toffee gardener sailing on the Titanic with his lawnmower; when it hit the iceberg he was caught hogging the radio, desperate to find out if we beat Fulham until the captain and his mates dragged him off and left him on the offending iceberg with his lawnmower.  The Blue boy was last seen trying to flatten the iceberg so a match could take place with the polar bears...  He's madder than I am, that Bill Tidy!

A lady Evertonian wanna-be scout called Goodison Park to tell of a great defender playing in New York, as big as a mountain and the strength of a hundred men.  'Come quick' was the call, 'You can pay him in bananas!"  As the mural unfolded, the writing said "You're too late, Everton; he's gone.'  A picture unfurled showing King Kong falling from the Empire State Building, surrounded by planes.

There was a caption of the First World War battleground when an Evertonian made the first step into No-Man's Land to play football with the Hun.  And on it went, Bill Tidy's weird and wonderful Everton world.

Then came a special film depicting the early years of Everton from the start on Stanley Park to our present home at Goodison Park.  It played in eight segments with an interlude every decade or so. 

In the first segment of our story, names like Sam Chedgzoy were mentioned — this player dribbled the ball from a corner kick and scored, resulting in the rules being changed.  The first numbers on shirts for that great FA Cup Final of 1933.  And of course the great Dixie, pictures crackled on our state-of-the-art screens: Pathe news reels showing Dixie and his team in training, then coming home with the Cup to scenes of unequalled celebration in our city centre.  The team in horse-drawn carriages struggling to get through the sea of fans.  At the end of this early segment, Elton Welsby introduced Dixie's daughter Barbara and granddaughter Melanie to a rousing applause.  The great man's relatives were sitting on a table with the Echo's Ken Rogers and David Prentice.

Sir Philip Carter was beckoned to the stage for a brief interview about the club under his tenure.  Sir Philip spoke of Sir John Moores and how he let every one get on with their job; of how the club suffered when the Heysel tragedy occurred.  It was widely regarded that the Everton team of the time was the best in Europe and the chance to build a dynasty was cruelly taken away.  It was a big factor in the team drifting away in the late 80s and early 90s.

Tommy Lawton, the successor to Dixie Dean in our long line of famous Number 9s,  was mentioned in the film.  A centre-forward cruelly robbed of greater glory with the Blues by the onset of the Second World War.  The 1938-39 Championship-winning team with Sagar, Mercer, etc was reckoned to be possibly the best of the Everton pre-war teams.  That's some statement!

From the halcyon 30s to the more quiet decades of the 40s and early 50s but this latter decade did throw up our very own Kirk Douglas look-alike: Davie Hickson.  Dave came to the stage to give his remarks on what it was like to be an Everton player and to ask forgiveness for defecting to the dark side.  I envy Dave for his hair — still as thick as the day it was covered with a bandage when he came back on to the field to beat Man Utd, there were no substitutions back then, you know.  I think I know Dave's secret for that mop of hair; cheese — he eats loads of the stuff!   Wally Fielding was there, his batteries charged again by the applause of recognition and the feeling of appreciation — that was special and will carry Wally through many days to come.

Then we came to another segment of film depicting the great 60s.  My eyes were fixed on the screen as the players I just missed out seeing danced their way into the fans' hearts.  Roy Vernon, Ray Wilson, Brian Labone, Gordon West, Tony Kay, Joe Royle, Jimmy Gabriel, Brian Harris...  The unforgettable 1966 Cup Final — one of the greatest ever comebacks in FA Cup history.

Then Elton Welsby got his life-long dream: to interview the Golden Vision, and give him a gift from himself and his son.  You could feel the awe and trepidation in Elton's voice as he bowed to the man who had made so many Evertonians happy.  Alex talked about his teammates and the comradeship, a theme noticeable of all our great teams, and a special mention of Roy Vernon and his wondrous ability with a football.  His pride of playing for Everton and the thanks for the fact that he never feels forgotten by the club's special fans.

Elton went on to say, "Who can ever forget your daughter being interviewed at a tender age (she was a Shirly Temple look-alike) and being asked Who was your dad?  To which, she replied, "Alex Young";  Who does he play for?  "Everton."  Cue the Z-Cars music again and not a dry eye in the hall.  At this point, Elton gave the Vision a videotape of the scarce BBC Wednesday Play, The Golden Vision — I have to get that tape!  Then, a brief talk from Brian Labone, asking us to remember Sandy Brown, currently in ill health; Joe Royle weighed in with his thoughts.

The film played on into the 70s, the beginning and the end of a decade with little in the middle to shout about except that Clive 'Bloody' Thomas.  Everyone knows of the magnificent team that won the league so handsomely in 1970: Joe Royle; Gordon West, Brian Labone, Tommy Wright, Johnny Morrissey... 

Bob Latchford, scoring for fun on the film, and that 30th goal; the goal at Elland Road in the Cup replay sadly not enough.  Andy King being escorted off the field of play by a police sergeant after just scoring the winner against the dark side.  Big Bad Bob was invited to the do but was currently in South Africa.

To comment on this era, who else but the Holy Trinity: Ball, Kendall and Harvey.  Just seeing them next to each other made you bless yourself.  They spoke of how they played for each other, how they looked out for each other, and how Mr Catterick did not really coach them but allowed them to express themselves.  And they certainly did that.  Bally spoke of not understanding how Howard and Colin only mustered one England cap between them; his sadness on leaving the club and never wanting too; and their respect for Harry Catterick, the disciplinarian.

Then the era most of my friends will be eternally thankful for, the 80s!

The film once more rolled on and reminded us how close we came to never experiencing all the glory that unfolded.  When Howard Kendall first came, he was under tremendous pressure to get a result after a bad run; some fans wanted him sacked, leaflets wanting his head were given out (no it wasn't me!).  But a Kevin Brock back-pass intercepted by Adrian Heath changed history and Howard became the most successful Everton manager of all time.

The screens flooded great personal memories into the hall for me: the Oxford game and that pass, the Bayern Munich night, the two Championships, the seeming permanent residence at Wembley, and that glorious day in Rotterdam.  To comment on this special era for me, Graeme Sharp, Kevin Ratcliffe, and Andy Gray were summoned to try and relate the feeling of the team and its manager.  The three Amigos jumped onto the stage and stood there like three giggling boys looking down at the trophies in front of them, the Championship, the FA Cup and the Cup Winner's Cup.

I saw Sharpy reach out to touch the CWC, egging Andy on to do the same, all with smiles as big as the Mersey.  The whole 80s team was there with noticeable absentees of Neville Southall. and Pat van den Hauwe.  Big Nev works in a factory in Dover but was at the Adelphi the other night; Physco Pat in South Africa, gardening of all things — it must be therapeutic!

Ratters spoke first about the club and its fans, and then Sharpy telling everyone he made Andy's goals.  Andy Gray then encapsulated the night by grabbing the microphone off Elton and making a passionate plea for Ferdinand to stay with Henry when defending the goal pointing at arrows on the video screen... only messing!

Andy talked passionately about his career with Everton.  He said, "This club is special.  That is why so many players who have played for so many different clubs still think of Everton as their club.  It is why Peter Reid, who is manager of Leeds, is here tonight as a Blue; why Joe Royle has flown up from Gillingham to be here; and why Alan Ball is here as an Evertonian.  No other club can come close to Everton and I always want to be a part of this great family.  Every player who has pulled on the Blue jersey is a lucky man!"  The roof nearly caves in with the applause, the black liver birds on the ceiling flew off; thanks Andy!

Then came the 90s; the film showed that game against Wimbledon, the great win over Man Utd in the 1995 FA Cup Final, and latterly Unsworth's goal against Fulham.  It was Dave Watson's turn to try and explain what the club was about; his smile and wave said it all.

Then the man of the moment came onto the stage: David Moyes.  Cue his song, red hair - we don't care...  As ever, he spoke with humility and great thought.  David looked over to the assembled stars to the left of him and said basically he was not worthy in their presence as these past idols had won things and, as yet, David has won nothing.  You're dead wrong, David: you have won over a legion of fans in a relatively short spell; you have given us new hope and a feeling of a new dawn; a new chapter of a successful Everton is in the offing.  We look forward to our games again; your team sells out everywhere with Blues.  You're a great Ambassador for the fans and the club.  You, David, are the leader of the People's Club; long may it continue and grow.

Elton then introduced the Vice-Chairman but Bill Kenwright needs no introduction, does he?  Fact is, Bill is the best known Evertonian on this Planet (calm down Li Tie, I know you have millions of fans).  When he talks about his team, he often says it all for a lot of us.  On this night, you could see Bill humbly addressing so many of his heroes specially gathered.  He told the fans there that he is not the real owner of Everton: the owners of this great club are the fans.

Our Vice-Chairman told of the time Peter Johnson wanted to get Howard back for the third time and asked Bill to phone him whilst Howard was on holiday in Spain.  Howard answered, he was told of the request /plea by Johnson, and his reply was a repeated "I'm honoured."  At the end of his tenure, he was gutted and embarrassed by our former 'owner' but let's not spoil the image of the night.  You see that's how the club touches the players and managers.  They speak about 'we' years after they have picked their boots up for the last time at Bellefield.  The adoption was repeated over and over again by players throughout this memorable night.  Davey Jones rings Bill up to say 'we' must win such and such a game, talking still about Everton while he's the manager of Wolves.

There was a table with four ex-managers of Everton (and their partners) spanning a time of nearly twenty years.  Some clubs would need five tables for the number of managers they have had in the same period.  It said a lot about the feeling of the club when the likes of Walter Smith, who was basically sacked, comes back and is so warmly received.

Bill Kenwright then went on to introduce the rest of the directors: Keith Tamlin, Arthur Abercrombie, and John Woods.  (Paul Gregg was not present but I noticed Lord Grandchester, an ex director and descendant of Sir John Moores, was present.)  Bill spoke of John Woods's desire to pick the team when at Board Meetings.  John's team went something like this: Rooney in goal; Rooney, Rooney, Rooney and Rooney in defence; the midfield consisted of three Rooneys and up front two more Rooneys.  That's John Woods's favoured team.

Bill asked a question as to how many people had cut into the model in icing of Rupert's Tower that had adorned their dessert.  He was right; I couldn't bring myself to deface such an image associated with our club.  The waiters and waitresses must have thought we were a gang of loons not wanting to eat this delicacy.  In the menu it was described as A chocolate Everton Tower filled with Blueberry Mousse.  Yum!

Bill went on to say there were two defining moments for him with the club reaching this landmark.  One was thanks to Barry Horne (everyone turned their own spotlight on Barry who had traveled up after the Wales game in Cardiff, so he must have flown in, and gave him a great round of applause) for that goal in 1994.  The other moment was when he had to have a parting of the ways with Walter Smith, who had become not just our manager through a difficult period in our history, but also a very close friend.

You could see as he talked of this parting that it still hurt; but, like a surgeon, some cuts have to be done for the patient's long-term health.  Bill said that, when he first met Walter, the former Rangers man had told him that the ending of his managership would inevitably come one day.  That's the nature of football — not a defeatist attitude.

Added to Walter's departure was the factor of requiring the services of one David Moyes.  The human catalyst for saving our self-respect and remaining in top-flight football when we had relegation written all over us in March of 2002, with just nine games to go...  Bill said it took just 27 seconds for the Evertonianism to set into St David when Rhino scored that goal against Fulham in his first game.  If you have not heard the tale of how we secured David's managerial skills, I'll briefly run through what Bill has told us while gathered at the two last bashes.

When Walter left, there were three candidates to take up the vacant post: Davey Jones, Gary Megson, and David Moyes.  David was endorsed and partly suggested to Bill by Walter himself.  David was the chosen one; Bill had watched this young manager cut his teeth for a while now at Preston.

Bill phoned David as he was on his way to Bristol to run over a player (not literally!) for Preston.  David said that as he was on Preston business that night; he would still see the game and then meet Bill at midnight — a time Bill said was common for making deals.  David came into Bill's home and, in the first seven seconds, he mentioned win four times.  It reminded Bill of the film Jerry McGuire — not the "Show me the money" part, he quipped, but when, at the end of the film, Jerry comes into a hall to make up with his wife and starts rambling. Jerry says at the end "Well what do you think?" or words to that effect.  His wife replies "You got me with 'Hello'."  It was the same with Bill and David!  Bill looked over to David and said, "We have dinners like these every hundred years or when we win something.  Over to you, David!"

I think Jenny, Bill's partner, may think he's not so mad at all now for taking over this club of ours — just bloody fortunate to be a major part and influence on it.  A heart-warming rendition of It's a Grand Old Team to Support spontaneously came about.

Elton then introduced the next performing artist who would sing and literally dance out the night, Leo Sayer!

Leo came in still with afro haircut and sung his barrage of hits whilst moving in between the tables: One-Man Band, How Much Love, You make me feel like dancing, etc.  At one point, Leo was dancing on a table, then taking some of the ladies present on to the bigger stage to dance; it was that kind of night!

A fan heard Reidy and Gray in discussion in the toilet.  Reid said to Gray, "I don't remember Leo Sayer playing for us."  Andy Gray replied that it was John Bailey in disguise!

As the lights came on, I wondered what next was to happen.  Maybe the hall's ceiling would part like in Thunderbirds and we would be airlifted into the skies with the likes of Alan Ball and Alex Young acting like Peter Pans taking us flying by the hand...

A friend said the whole night was surreal.  I went home to look up the word later on: 'fantasy' was one description of the word I found.  Yes, that description summed it up for me as well.  I had been to an Everton Fantasy Island and was glad I came to experience it all.

A the end of the night, fans sought out heroes for autographs and pictures to be taken, or just for a quiet word of thanks.  I must say, every ex-player and manager was responsive to all the fans' requests.

I spoke with Walter for a while and said thanks to him for his help at the club at a bad time, and for his involvement in getting David Moyes at the helm.  During an earlier interlude, I saw David and Walter chatting for a while; I wonder if they were comparing notes?

I also sought out Alex Young for a chat and a photo.  I asked Alex if he had noticed any good players up North?  McFadden of Motherwell was his reply, a bit of a hothead but he can play.  I asked the inevitable about young Wayne and who he reminded him of, if anyone?  Alex thought long and hard but, before he could come up with an answer, I suggested Duncan Edwards.  "Yes, he does, he has a similar build and the knack of coming back for the ball to run at you.  Nobody likes being run at especially as quick and powerful as Duncan did — and as young Wayne does now."

I asked the living legend if he ever played against Duncan Edwards?  Alex informed me he did for the Under-23's for Scotland V England at Sheffield.  Scotland were beaten 3-1, Duncan was awesome that day.  My camera was on overkill now as all the 80s team present, Howard, Walter, Big Joe, Davey Weir (resplendent in his kilt), Steve Watson (all in black like an assassin), Alan Stubbs, Li Tie.  Our own Duncan was not present: the captain was at home with his wife who had just given birth.  In fact nearly all the first team players were there except for those on International duty.

As I looked over the hall one last time before I got a lift home, I felt I was truly was privileged to have been there.  I'm glad I have written this down in case I forget some of it in later years.  I hope I have done the occasion some justice.  If you wanted to find negatives then if you dig deep they may well be there.  Even the Mona Lisa has its critics but I'll tell you this for northing: this Gala Dinner was a masterpiece of organization and a fitting celebration of a unique occasion.

It was an awesome night; ticket prices were over £170 and mostly corporate sponsors snapped them up.  Was it worth it?  You decide!

Yours thankfully

Ian Macdonald 
Everton Independent Blues

31 March 2003