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Another One Bites The Dust

By Mike   Hughes  ::  14/04/2012   11 Comments (»Last) It?s 4pm Saturday and I?m just thinking of a reason to write this. I?m 45 years old, live in a house called ?Goodison?, have a dog called Dixie and, having started my own business as a result of redundancy 18 months ago, have a company logo in blue, white and amber. Anyone who knows me, even remotely, knows I?m Blue through and through. I?ve spent the week, like many of us, building my hopes up but wary of the many disappointments Everton have inflicted on us over the years. This time would be different. We?ve been in form as opposed to the reds. This time is our time I believed. It?s the hope that kills you.

I did not go to the match, considering myself a Wembley jinx from two finals I attended in the 80s. I did not go to the pub as the sight of reds in numbers of 2 or more really rubs me up the wrong way. I got a link via TW and watched it at home ? armchair style I?m afraid.

My nerves were wound up tight. Even when Jelavic scored I sensed something wasn?t right. It was not comfortable viewing. No rhythm to our play, not the approach I expected. I really thought we?d get at them ? if not Dogs Of War then at least Sunderland Away. Even at half-time, a blood pressure cuff on my arm would not have provided reassurance. I?d been taking deep breaths to try and relax, almost hyperventilating with the anxiety and definitely not enjoying the experience.

Alex Ferguson stated that teams mirror their manager?s personality. Going for the throat has hardly been our style under David Moyes but, given that he and the players had something of a ?no interview? policy over the past week or so, I expected it was with a cunning Blackadder-style plan in mind. Sadly, it was Baldrick who I recall had the cunning plans.

We played unimaginative, uninspired, flaccid football. Watching it was like eating cold porridge with all the relish that it contained something unpleasantly red somewhere down the line. There were no 20 yard shots to test a third choice keeper, no crisp passing or link up play down the wings. Crosses and corners were poor.

The truth is there were no Clive Thomas moments to blame for the defeat. Nor can we blame a lack of resources compared to our spendthrift neighbours despite the names on the score sheet. Everton were the cause of their own downfall today. We choked. They were there for the taking and we bottled it. This was a great opportunity for silverware but another season bites the dust.

So what was the point of writing this? It was partly cathartic, partly to try and put into words the huge disappointment I?m feeling. A couple of years ago I wrote a Mailbag article, The Psychology of Everton FC, highlighting how I felt we were a long way from Nil Satis Nisi Optimum and had tempered our ambitions from what they had been in the 60s, 70s and 80s. We are no closer today.

I don?t know what the answer is. I?m afraid of the potential consequences if Moyes leaves. But I?m sure we?d all prefer a full season rather than half a season from our team (as has become the norm). And glorious defeat with a bold plan and balls of steel is preferable to this gutless, meek approach.

I take my hat off to the Evertonians who travel home and away and spend a lot more money than I do these days. You may be feeling worse than I am right now.

Once a Blue, always a Blue but on days like this ? boy ? do they test our loyalty.

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