Fan Comment

From My Spec - in the distant past

I miss Ken Buckley’s ‘From My Seat’ reports. As a rare matchgoer these days, I can only do these retrospective reports. I have plenty more and I hope others chip in, too.

Hope you’re well, Ken!

Everton 2 Liverpool 1, January 1981

They say youth is wasted on the young, it certainly wasn’t on 24th January 1981.

I was a spotty-faced, long haired 16 year-old, with a love for Everton and a desperation to see some success, after ten years watching us win nothing except BBC TV’s ‘Superteam’. The cruel near-misses in 1977 & 1980 weighed heavily, especially with Liverpool winning way too many trophies. We loved Everton, when would Everton love us back?

1981 saw us in a bit of decline after four entertaining years. The cup draw wasn’t kind to us; Arsenal at home in third round. The gods were kind to us, with Sansom nodding an own goal in the last minute, followed by Young scoring another own goal in injury time. I’ve never seen two own goals like that before or since. Maybe that was a sign it was our year at last? That lasted till Monday, when we were drawn against Liverpool at Goodison.

The build up was fantastic, even in a pre-social media age. There was a move to put the game on a big screen at Anfield, blocked by the FA, who were suspicious of live TV affecting ticket sales. Little did they know. Cinemas put the game on live. Three days before the game, we got the news that the referee was to be one Clive Thomas, the man who disallowed our winner in the 1977 semi because of an ‘infringement’ that no-one else at Maine Road saw. Conspiracy theories bloomed, but it added spice to an already-spicy build-up.

Matchday came. As a 16 year-old, I couldn’t legally drink, so after a few pints on County Road, we filed into a packed Street End. Both sides had a few injuries and whatever the reason, I felt strangely optimistic.

They came out to a crescendo of boos, we came out to Z Cars and a rapturous welcome. Then, nothing, we all waited. Them Thomas came out to cheers from the red half and something slightly different from the Blue half. ‘One biased bastard, there’s only one biased bastard’, we all sang. No modern annoying shouty announcer was needed, as Thomas checked with his linesman, there was that lovely sound of 53,000 people shouting ‘Waaaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhh’ at the top of their voices while we waited for kick off.

The match started – it was what people of my age would call a ‘proper cup-tie’, this being a parade of wonderfully brutal violence, with a ball seemingly thrown onto the pitch every so often. The young McMahon was pitched against Jimmy Case, Trevor Ross against Ray Kennedy. The ‘responsible’ captains were Lyons and Souness. Amid the mayhem, Varadi smashed an early shot against the bar. Liverpool looked a bit shaky and we started to dream. A lovely reverse pass from Trevor Ross slipped Eastoe in, his shot slid under Clemence and bobbled agonisingly towards the goal. One of their defenders hooked the ball off/just behind the line, it bounced off Avi Cohen and nestled into the net. We all went potty, then looked at Thomas. ‘Will he give it?’, we thought, despite no reason for disallowing an admittedly bizarre goal. My abiding memory was John Bailey turning away from the celebrations to run to Thomas, begging him to allow the goal. Thomas kept us waiting, checked with the linesman and allowed the goal. Despite the goal being given to Eastoe, the Street End roared ‘Avi’s got no foreskin’.

Half time had us 1-0 up. They came out for the second half without Dalglish. More optimism. Early in the second half, Case ran after a through ball and, minutes late as ever, crashed into Martin Hodge studs up. If those fences weren’t up, half the Street End would have had him. Chaos ensued, as most of our players ran towards Case. Lyons stamped on Case two or three times, Bailey kicked him, then Souness came in and had a go. Fair play to Thomas (never thought I’d say that), he calmed everything down and booked Lyons and Souness. It would have ended five a side these days.

Buoyed by the mass fight, we roared the Blues on. An up and under came down with snow on it, Thompson’s nose clearly blocked the ball’s flight as it bounced over him. Eamon O’Keefe pounced and ran towards Clemence and with the touch of Lukaku on a bad day, rounded Clemence and sent the ball towards the corner flag. While we groaned, he controlled it, passed it across the box and Varadi smacked it in at the far post. No controversy, no problem. We went berserk, ‘Olive’ Varadi ran along the Park End and unwittingly towards the Liverpool fans in the Enclosure, getting a meat pie in the face for his troubles. Surely the game was ours now?

We sat back. They took the initiative. Case got a scruffy goal back and it was squeaky bum time. Varadi went through, rounded Clemence and missed the open goal. An ultimate ‘Everton, that’ moment. We were all certain it would be a turning point, as they spent the rest of the game in our half. We hung on. Thomas blew his whistle and most of Goodison went wild with delight. The pitch was invaded and we stayed in the stadium roaring with joy.

I don’t remember much about that evening. We beat them. It was wonderful. That evening, it was more than bragging rights, it was definitely our year. We loved Everton and that day, Everton loved us back.

Of course, it wasn’t our year. We beat Southampton after a replay and in the quarter-final, were five minutes from beating a thoroughly dirty Man City, when Paul Power equalised. Inevitably, we lost the replay.

Whenever anyone asks me about my favourite Derbies. I don’t just think of those wins at Anfield in ’84 and ’86, I think of that day in January 1981. Everything was set up; the poor form of both teams, Thomas appointed referee, the game shown live in cinemas, it being a cup-tie, the large allocation for them to boost the atmosphere.

Check it out on YouTube and make sure it’s the extended highlights. You’ll love it. None of us who were there will ever forget it.

Follow @paultrantrainer

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