Where Blue Eagles Dare

Apologies for the dramatic headline. It doesn't really reflect the events in South East London last night, but for those of us who enjoy a good classic war film, I couldn't resist. 

No Clint Eastwood or Richard Burton in the starting lineup, but we did have Beto and Charly Alcaraz as the starring acts.  

The day started with the customary walk and I even put a short run in. With the later kick-off time and relatively short trip across London, it was a leisurely journey for me in comparison to those who made the journey from Merseyside. Selhurst Park is not an easy one to get to. Straight into London Victoria and then a connection to Selhurst station to head for the meeting place; The Prince George. 

Now, given my well-documented navigational challenges on my last trip to Selhurst Park, I had this sussed. Or so I thought. I came out of the station and took the right turn. Being someone who refuses to use Sat Nav, either in the car or on my phone, `as it's cheating, but I took the precautionary measure of asking a station assistant where the Prince George was. She pointed me up the road. I'll be honest, the confused look on her face and unconvincing response, should have pre-warned me, but I went with it. 

I walked about 400m to the top of the road and realised this wasn't right, so done a 180 turn and found my way courtesy of a helpful family of Palace supporters.  

I was only 10 minutes later than planned. The place was rammed with Evertonians. I found Mark and Rob and was introduced to Peter (I think), who I don't believe I've met before, but don't trust my memory. We didn't get to meet Duncan as he was running late and our signals were non-existent. Mark's description "I'll be the one in an Everton Chile hat" wouldn't have cut it anyway. We were tucked in a corner and the badge on his head was round the back of his head. All were impressed that I had finally invested in a coat!! 

Then the supporters went into full swing. It was great. I can't choose between the Ndiaye song and Spirit at the moment. I was impressed that Mark knew the words to the song for our Senegalese magician.  

The atmosphere was building and we weren't even at the ground yet. The best thing was two very young kids were starting a lot of it off. It was funny, but I was concerned that their very high-pitched, shrill scouse accents were going to shatter the mirror behind us. Great stuff and hats off to them for leading grown men into chorus after chorus. Respect young blues. 

Onto the ground and the main event. Queues outside the stadium, which is nothing new and is common at Goodison. We were next to a few originally from Cumbria I think? Now, Mark has been called a "Wool" by fellow supporters over the years due to his St Helens origins. This guy had a guess where he was from and suggested Birmingham. I don't know if Brummie Mark will stick!! 

I eventually and literally, fought my way down the narrow concourse and found my seat next to John Raftery. More of that concourse later. A big thanks to John and, as always, a pleasure being in your company watching Everton. 

This was a different Everton performance than of late. Different from the first hour against Tottenham. Different from the backs-to-walls approach in the closing stages of that match and the second half at Brighton. Different from the heroics of the derby. I'll ignore the FA Cup fixture.  

Understandably, it wasn't long before the players looked jaded. Physically and probably emotionally. Now, don't get me wrong, although they've not had the best of seasons in comparison to previous ones, Palace on their day are pacey and dangerous. 

I thought we were struggling for large parts to deal with them and they were particularly keen on exploiting our left side. Harrison did okay, but Mykolenko was off sorts again. I'm not expecting Baines and Pienaar, but I felt there was little understanding between the two. To start with, the two centre-backs looked ropey. There was another mix-up when about four or five of our players tried their hardest not to clear the ball leading to a chance that smashed against Pickford's crossbar. Hang in blues.

They had the ball in the back of the net from a corner, however, VAR came to the rescue and judged that as the corner came in, the ball was judged to have gone out of play. Personally, I'm not sure of the validity, but fortunately, it went our way. We were not looking great. 

So, a stuttering performance as the half approached its conclusion. But time enough for the ball to break to Alcaraz, who ran at their defenders, allowing Beto to pull off into space. Charly put a perfectly measured and weighted pass into his path and our rejuvenated striker put it away with another composed finish. Cue his now customary goal celebration with Gueye joining in. Hopefully, he keeps this going and we'll see more imaginary stick-breaking.  

Once I'd finished my celebrations, others around me were still going. The bloke next to me (not John R) repeatedly punched me in the arm, but more worryingly, the one behind grabbed me in a near headlock. I thought he was going to fall over his seat onto me, but more concerning was the potential domino effect and me doing likewise onto the lady in front of me!! The away section now in full voice and, after four minutes of added time, the whistle went. 

Back to that concourse. I decided I needed to visit the gents. I finally got through, but it was a struggle. I tried to get a drink, but that was a forlorn hope and I headed back to my seat, or tried. It was so congested that you could hardly move. A few brave lads were carrying three pints in a triangle formation. I wished them luck, presuming they were going to drop at least one. As the Meat Loaf song goes, two out of three ain't bad. I promise never to complain about the lady in the Upper Bullens who never serves me again. 

By now the second half had started, but I was still trapped. Being stranded close to a big screen, we saw their equaliser go in. But VAR called for a possible offside. I thought I might as well stay and watch it, but the crowd was now thinning as people headed back to their seats, so I got through. Still they were deliberating it. It took an age before awarding the goal. 

For the second goal, the lobbed cross reminded me of the one on Wednesday night, only slightly more overhit. I thought it was going out for a goal kick, but O'Brien kept it in, but put it back in the mix. Eventually, it fell to Charly, who, I can only assume gave the keeper the eye, as, having watched it back, the latter temporarily was expecting a shot across goal, but our Argentinian calmly slotted it in as the keeper tried to recover his direction of travel. Small margins matter in football. He is still only 22 and described in some South American circles being rated as Argentina's next big thing. 

Bedlam ensued, with the chant of Charly Alcaraz belting out at decibels that must have been heard in the South East London sky. For those who didn't hear or remember, think of the Jelavic chant on steroids. Brilliant and to think, after 70 or 75 minutes, John was suggesting he was tiring and may need to be taken off. He smiled and shrugged; what do I know?!!! 

Six minutes of added time. Groans this time unlike being grateful on Wednesday. It really isn't good for the blood pressure, and took an eternity. Once again, a clock that seemingly refused to count down. I really need to stop watching the clock and putting myself through that. 

We held out for the win. Forget the Berlin Wall, the Everton wall would not fall. Despite the tired legs, they found their second wind and were resilient until the very end with players literally going that extra mile. 

I won't go through all of the team this week nor do I want to criticise. A fatigued team stood up to be counted and despite the shaky start and early wobbles, withstood most of what they threw at us. Gueye wasn't his usual self. I thought that Ashley Young added an air of calm and a wise head when he came on. Lindstrom did well and could have scored, only to draw a good save from their keeper. 

Man of the match time. Pickford ensured we remained on a platform to go and win it. The fast-becoming fan's favourite, Alcaraz, in the absence of Ndiaye, was in with a shout. But it has to go to transformed Beto. Not just for his goal and going close to adding a second. The sheer effort and work rate he put in for the team, despite running on empty towards the end was great to see. As is seeing a player most of us had written off and the team enjoying playing football again, even when it isn't all going our way. 

The players came over to the celebrating hordes at the end, lapping up the very noisy appreciation from the travelling masses. I could hardly see them, as people in front were stood on their seats and I wasn't trying that one!! Finally, David Moyes came over to salute the crowd and deserved praise aimed back at him. 

Back to the Prince George to allow the numbers heading back to the station to go down. Once more, packed with boisterous, singing and happy Evertonians, although there was short-lived dismay when a few got informed there was no Guinness left!! I hope those supporters got home okay. If they were on coaches, they probably missed them, but it looked like most of them didn't want to go home and carry on enjoying another great away day. 

Back to my title and the difference in our performance. We did dare. We dared not to lose and dared to win. Bravery and different from the Moyes performances we remember. Maybe we would have tried to hold on for a point. Not last night. 

Almost there. 30 points with 39 to play for. Closer to European qualification than relegation as it stands. Well done blues. Manager, players and of course the magnificent 3,000.   

Everton, loud and proud. 

---

Reader Comments (19)

Note: the following content is not moderated or vetted by the site owners at the time of submission. Comments are the responsibility of the poster. Disclaimer ()

How to get rid of these ads and support TW