Match Preview

Cash-strapped Everton bought just two players all summer and one of them is almost certain to miss the season-opener at The Valley because of injury. £4.5m man Tomasz Radzinski joins Paul Gascoigne as a major doubt for Walter Smith who was hoping to shake off the injury curse that wrecked the 2000/01 campaign.

However, the other new boy, Alan Stubbs (pictured), will make his debut for the club he has supported since childhood, probably alongside David Weir and David Unsworth in a three-man central defensive line-up. 

Smith looks likely to employ the 5-3-2 formation that appeared to work well during the pre-season with Steve Watson and Gary Naysmith (or Unsworth if Naysmith is not risked) being named the wingbacks.

Scott Gemmill, Mark Pembridge and Niclas Alexandersson are likely to be the three midfielders, with Duncan Ferguson and Kevin Campbell up front. 

Abel Xavier, who missed the pre-season through injury, looks to be the only other doubt for the trip to London.  Gary Naysmith and Danny Cadamarteri will be available after shaking off knocks; Joe-Max Moore is also fit; Niclas Alexandersson, Thomas Gravesen and Idan Tal all returned back to Merseyside from international duty unscathed and they should all be in the squad.  

Charlton, who will reportedly lock 2,000 fans out of the sold-out encounter with the Blues, have injury problems of their own, with six players are unavailable: Matt Svensson, Claus Jensen, Richard Rufus, Mark Kinsella, John Robinson and Radostin Kishishev, although the Charlton website reports that Claus Jensen may make it and long term casualty Clive Mendonca could also start.   Manager Alan Curbishley has set his side the target of a top-8 finish to build on last season's impressive performance.

Into The Valley of Deaf, roared the 2,000

“I am never better than when I am mad.  Then methinks I am a brave fellow; then I do wonders.  But reason abuseth me, and there’s the torment, there’s the hell”

(Thomas Kyd, “The Spanish Tragedy”, 1592)

Why do we do it to ourselves, year after year after year?  We turn our backs in May and attempt to draw a discreet veil over yet another series of disasters; our melancholy reason takes over and we swear that we’re never going to be hoodwinked like that ever again – like the serial monogamist who has been spurned, abused by yet another lover. 

And yet…. August comes around, and we submit ourselves wearily to the same fate, drawn like moths to a candle, unable to suppress the deep longing for things to get better – and deluding ourselves that they will.

Such was the atmosphere at London Bridge station as I awaited the (inevitably late) arrival of the Tooting Terrorist cockney toffee, who was to accompany me to what we felt would be another in the long catalogue of unfruitful Everton away days.  As we compared tales of the previous night’s derring-do ‘up west’, the ennui at what was to follow was quite palpable.  This sense of foreboding at the inevitable was clearly shared by the large smattering of Blues on platform four, awaiting the arrival of the 13:30 to Dartford via Charlton.

And as the train arrived…. eight cars, already packed with beered-up but buoyant Bluebellies in deafening voice…

“We hate Bill Shankly and we hate St John……”

YESSSSS!!!!  We’ve got a match to go and win!!!!

I walked to The Valley in the shadow of relegation, but I feared no-one…. for I was the fattest bastard at The Valley.

The teams came out, and there were no surprises in selection: Gerrard in goal; Pistone, Stubbs and Weir across the back;  Pembo and Watson as ‘wing backs’;  Gravesen, Gemmill and Alexandersson in midfield; SuperKev and Big Dunc up front.

And, despite our misgivings at the lack of midfield quality, and the similarities of the front men, the 2,000-plus BlueBellies were in no mood to be outsung by the Saaarf East Laaaandahners on their manor.   

It seemed that we had an effect; astonishingly, we actually started to look like a Premiership side of the middle rank.  True, there’s a lack of quality…  but effort, spirit and composure are just as important in games like these, and we had ‘em in spades.  

After an initial feeling out period, it was one-way traffic towards the Charlton goal with Kiely having to be in outstanding form to keep out efforts from Alex and The Big Yin.

Anyone who gives Dunc stick should watch games like this one; when he dropped into midfield to get the ball he looked our classiest player by some margin, and you cannot question his commitment.  There was an example where the ball was played through and Dunc went for it with Kev behind him; when the ball broke away Kev had a right go at Dunc as Kev thought that it was his ball, to which Dunc said something like ‘why the fuck didn’t you come for it then?’  

At the moment, Dunc’s the man in form, but I reckon that when Radzinski crawls off the treatment table Dunc will be the man to drop to the bench because Kev’s got the armband.  A shame...

We were incredibly composed at the back too… this was my first sight of Stubbs in the Royal Blue, and he was terrific.  A guy behind me was raving about him, to be chided by his mate who said ‘ahhh fuck off, he’s just like Unzie… but sexier’.  A contender for quote of the season, on day one!  Despite our pressure, there was no score at half time and the nerves became a little frayed…  were we gonna let this one slip?

The second half got under way, and Charlton came out spreading the ball around, and for the first time our defence looked beleaguered.  We were all a bit scared of Johansson at the start, and when Weir lost his composure in performing the defensive header from Hades, the nippy Scandi was on hand to loop a return header over the stranded Gerrard.  1-0; Charlton fans going apeshit, and an air of “haven’t we been here before?” sweeping over the massed ranks of Bellies.

This time, however, the heads didn’t drop; the run of pre-season results has sharpened the players' sense of self-belief, and the dividend was swift in coming.  The ball came over to Dunc, who ‘nudged’ it on to SuperKev who was felled in the box for a blatant penalty.  A shame for Charlton that the ref didn’t spot the rather obvious handball by Big Dunc, but hey, how often have we been shat on in similar circumstances?  Up stepped Dunc to send Kiely the wrong way, 1-1 and pandemonium behind the goal.

Was Walter going to settle for a point?  Maybe... but the players weren’t, and they continued to press with Kiely having to be at his best on several occasions, particularly to stop a Pembo pile-driver from 18 yards out.  He had no chance, however, when from a corner his defence was too busy watching Big Dunc to spot Weir nipping in, and with one touch smashing the ball into the top left from eight yards.  1-2.

Charlton attempted to step up a gear but their lack of obvious quality betrayed them; although they created some openings, our defence held firm and constant Everton counter raids kept the poor Addicks at bay.  Unzie came on toward the end to a marvellous reception, and gave us a chance to compare his relative sexiness to Stubbs; the jury’s out on this one, and I reckon it’ll run and run.

So, the whistle blew, the Charlton fans left subdued, the Everton players came to receive their well-deserved plaudits from the crowd and we all poured out with an enormous collective sense of well-being.  

This footy business, it’s a piece of piss, innit?  Belief and reason, those strange bedfellows, have been banished to the corners of our minds, and hopefully they’ll still be there on Monday night when we top Totteringham and ascend to the lofty heights of first (yes FIRST!!!) in the Premiership.

And, if God were to take me there and then…. I’d be a happy man.  Honest.

Hero Weir turns tables after handing gift goal to Charlton

BY turns villain and hero, David Weir, the Everton centre-back, played a crucial part in his team’s success. He it was, early in the second half, who gave Charlton the unexpected lead with an inept header on which Jonatan Johansson duly capitalised. But it was Weir, on 77 minutes, who, collecting a corner from the right by the ever-active Thomas Gravesen, drove his shot past the gallant Dean Kiely to give Everton success.

In Charlton’s defence, it must be said that they were lacking a platoon of key players. How badly they needed the suspended Richard Rufus at the heart of their defence, with two such formidable strikers as Duncan Ferguson and Kevin Campbell to oppose. How evident was the lack of those two excellent midfield creators, Denmark’s Claus Jensen and Ireland’s Mark Kinsella. There was a strong argument for starting with Gavin Peacock, rather than bringing him on at half time. On a three-month loan from QPR, he became the first son of a former Charlton player to represent the club. Keith, once an outside left, is the present assistant manager.

Everton dominated the first half, could well have gone in two or three goals ahead, and doubtless would have done had Kiely not performed such heroics. In that period, Everton dominated the midfield, had little or no trouble with Charlton’s attack and made numerous chances. Charlton’s manager, Alan Curbishley, said of Peacock: “I just felt we needed an influence; we had nobody who particularly wanted to stop the ball dead and bring us back into the game.”

He changed his formation twice, eventually deploying wing-backs, feeling that in the first quarter-hour, Everton outnumbered Charlton in midfield. His defence, he admitted, were frequently in trouble. Walter Smith, Everton’s manager, justifiably felt his team deserved success. “When we went behind, we could easily have folded,” he said. He had sympathy for Weir.

“He’s played very well for us over the period he’s been at Everton. When he gave away a goal like that, after the number of opportunities we’d had, it was very disappointing, especially for David. He never let it affect him at all. If anything, the goal against us spurred us on.”

Kiely made the first of his many saves just after the half-hour when Mark Pembridge nodded on to Niclas Alexandersson, whose shot the keeper blocked. He dealt confidently with a long drive by Gravesen, and gallantly from the same player’s tremendous drive when the ball was tapped to him from a free kick. Soon after that, in first-half stoppage time, he got a hand to a stooping header by Ferguson.

Early in the second half, Kiely distinguished himself by stopping Pembridge’s rasping left-footer and subsequently blocked a header by Campbell, but he could do nothing on 64 minutes when Chris Powell brought Campbell down, and Ferguson drove the penalty low into the right-hand corner.

When Weir failed to deal with Jason Euell’s cross from the left, Johansson looped his header over Paul Gerrard. But then Weir exploited Gravesen’s right-wing corner to strike Everton’s winner.

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