Column

The Destruction of a Dream

There will be plenty of our readers who will tap their keyboards angrily with a response along the lines of "Get over it" and "Time to move on" but this comment David Cormell posted on a recent Rooney thread really speaks volumes to something much much bigger than the loss of our greatest ever young prospect.

Rooney's departure still hurts for many of us, as this page reveals.

For myself, his transfer destroyed approximately 97% of my interest in football. Before Rooney left, I was mad on the game. The sort of fella who?d watch six or seven games a week, plus highlights and goals from anywhere, just because it was footy and there was nothing better on!

Read all the backpages, all the websites, then argue on the forums. Fuck me, I even had a fantasy team. The perfect Sky-era football consumer.

It was Rooney that healed a family rift. I hadn?t spoken to the arl fella in six months when he banged in that unforgettable goal against the Arsenal. When I stopped jumping and yelling at the telly like a mad bastard, the first thought I had was "I should have been next to my Dad for that". I called him the next day.

Being an Evertonian means so much to all of us. Belonging to something so great, important and steeped in history has a value ? for me anyway ? that money can?t buy. It just feels.... right. You all know what I mean. {And if you don?t, unfortunately you never will!}

So seeing our "True Blue" wunderkind and "Truer Bluer" Chairman engineer a move to hated rivals for 30 pieces of silver {or however much he went for} was more than a little jarring.

That day, my enthusiasm for football died. You could count the number of games I?ve watched since that day on your fingers. I no longer read back pages or assiduously scan websites. I no longer argue the toss on forums. Needless to say, I don?t bother with a fantasy team either.

I get my entire footy world view right here on ToffeeWeb. I couldn?t tell you who was in the bottom three, or the top three. I don?t even think I could tell you the promoted teams this year either. {Derby, Sunderland and.... someone else!}. My love and enthusiasm for the game is kaput. My affection for the guys who play it is zero. My respect for the money men who run the game is on a par with the esteem I hold for people-smugglers and car thieves. I don?t give a fuck anymore, and I?d no more give Bill Kenwright a pound than I?d offer Rooney a night with my missus.

Rooney was eighteen, and had spent his whole life dreaming about playing for us. When a dream that straightforward and simple can be so corrupted too quickly and easily, it leaves you with a foul taste in your mouth. There must be something seriously amiss and rotten with the core of the game for that to happen. I thought there was no price you could pay someone to abandon their principles and beliefs. Rooney and Kenwright proved me wrong ? and for a lot less than you might have thought.

Years on now, and the pain of seeing him in a ManUre shirt has long since dissipated. All that's left is apathy for the game and the sharks that swim within it.

I love Everton Football Club still. Everton Football Club was here a hundred years before Rooney; it?ll be here a hundred years after him too. Everton is still the greatest institution in the country, with the best fans, history and ethos. {Nil Satis Nisi Optimum}

But modern football? The agents, the players, the chairmen? The arseholes at Sky, the pundits, the columnists? You can have the game you?ve corrupted so thoroughly; and eat it too.

When they?ve stopped tearing kids' hearts in half, and stopped bullying money out of people's pockets, and stopped manipulating the fans for their own ends ? when they stop doing that, I?ll start caring again.

I?m not holding my breath. Thanks for the heartbreak, pain and apathy Mr Rooney.

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