Forrest Gump and Cilla Black got it right. Life is full of surprises.

I told you all at the start of the season I would weave a tale of mystery and suspense, but even I have been shocked at a) some of the comments my articles have inspired and b)some of the events that have unfolded so far.

So I hope to pacify some angry readers and enlighten those still not convinced by my impartiality. And all that without mention of Stevie G or JC – oh, already that plan has failed.

Anyway, a week of surprises started with the results from games we wouldn’t normally give two hoots about. If anyone else sat in a pub cheering on the Israelites like the weirdoes we witnessed after the sad Scotch, I’d be amazed. But clearly many of you did, which demonstrates how England do still mean something to many. The Russia and Croatia results set us up nicely for the Wembley decider, surely Steve ‘chuckles’ McClaren’s men would now not fail.

We know what happened, and our esteemed editor’s article summed it up far more succinctly than I could. However, whilst Brian Barwick was promising a ‘root and branch’ audit of English football, so I and my colleagues were reeling from a call from Ofsted. A similar inspection was coming, though hopefully wouldn’t have the same result as befell the new toothed one.

So football took a back step for a couple of days as we ran around preparing evidence and lesson plans. A wise man once said that ‘teaching is like football’ (ok, so it was me) and last weekend certainly felt like the nervy night before a cup final.

Saturday’s performance and result at Goodison was of an ilk I’ve never fully witnessed live before, only on historical DVDs through whisky-induced tearful eyes.

No less a sage as Stuart Hall apparently likened Everton’s football to Keats’s poetry afterwards, and there was certainly much beauty to appreciate and purr about. Although we’re on a good run, I for one didn’t expect such sublime soccer and high emotions. Everton have a habit of letting us down just when we think we’re on to something good, twas always so, in fact many Evertonians admit that nothing could surprise them where Toffeeness is concerned.

There were a few good goals, and quite a bit of champagne football. Arteta’s swagger returned with aplomb, Nuno was a joy to watch at left back, and Steven Pia-Pia-Pienaar gets better with every game. Of the magnificent seven, little Leon’s (still too young to take penalties) goal was possibly the pick of the bunch. However, Yakubu was the biggest (literally still) shock, and played like, well, an £11 million striker. His record is becoming alarmingly impressive, another pleasant surprise, as was the sight of Mr Testicles at half time (don’t ask.)

For a couple of hours at least, the Blues took me to football heaven, a scientific school where inspections and other such stress mean nothing. At this point I also have to express my amazement at the treatment of Rafa. In one respect it couldn’t happen to a nicer fella, but again I defend him and think it’s unjust. Tonight’s report that five thousand loveable Reds were to storm Anfield with anti-US slogans comes as no surprise, however the uncertainty surrounding a manager whose team are unbeaten still and is – just to appease all those who think I’m bitter -  undoubtedly a good coach who has a bit of luck. Maybe the result against Porto will have appeased the demanding Americans for a little while longer.

Yet more surprises were around the corner. Man Utd losing to the Ginger Mourinho’s horrible lot, Bruce to Wigan, Redknapp’s arrest (well, maybe not), Jewell to Derby, Sydney FC’s tactics, McLeish to Birmingham… and Alan Irvine to Preston. Less surprising, for my Carlisle-supporting flatmate at least, was Irvine’s predecessor Paul Simpson going back north to Gretna. Not to get married I presume, rather in some advisory role, temporarily thankfully given Preston’s form so far this season.

The Ofsted didn’t go too well in case you were wondering. It just goes to show that being taken by surprise isn’t always pleasant. But the joy of unpredictability is what lures many of us into the clutches of the beautiful game, and if you could say exactly what was going to happen, it wouldn’t be half as exciting. I realise I’m having to eat my words, given that in the recent past I said that just as death and taxes are certain, so was foreseeing Liverpool comebacks and Hollyoaks storylines. Now, at the risk of putting my bequiffed head on the metaphorical block, I’m not so sure.

Don’t question the future or worry too much. Everything will be ok, as Donnie Darko said. Especially if we carry on playing such good football!

That’s it from the northwest for now. I have to go, I’ve got tomato ketchup between my eyes.

For those of you too busy to watch TV, there has been a recent addition to Freeview and Satellite. Channel 4 Plus One, which shows the same thing only an hour later. This isn’t a new concept but I’ve come to realise it’s possible to get very confused and watch things after and before they happen and then again. For example, the Hollyoaks aficionado can watch yesterday’s episode, then tomorrow’s, then today’s, then tomorrow’s again, all in the space of two hours. If they really wanted to.

I say this because Saturday felt a bit like Groundhog Day. Something I’ve never seen before but then kind of have, too many times. Think Istanbul, West Ham (“the greatest FA Cup final ever”) and much much more. Glitches in the matrix, Beyonce singing in the corner, whatever it was, Saturday was another of these occasions and it wasn’t nice.

It all started so well. Sunshine, comical own goal, best midfield in the world clearly disjointed, chances being missed…then. Everyone in the ground could see what Hibbert’s mistake would lead to, I’ve complimented Steven Gerrard in the past so won’t contradict my praise now, other than to say he looked well below par and unlike him I wasn’t surprised he was taken off. But then Leiva looked a good player, and after all the chances I thought he would have a say one way or the other. There was also a horrible sense of foreboding when Kuyt made that challenge. Similarly Phil Neville was talking before the match about getting sent off and scoring own goals in derby matches so that came as no surprise either.

What I hadn’t anticipated though was the Liverpool fans’ efforts. Tesco carrier bags, banners saying ‘Just Go’ and ‘Goodison Riddance’. All this for a visit to the small club they are supposed not to care about. Seeing Carragher and Benitez celebrating at the end showed what it meant to them. By all means, go forth and prosper but you’ll need to play much better and have even more luck to win something. And, you’ll have to be cleverer and a bit more compassionate than singing Elephant Man chants about a man of the match who was scarred in a childhood accident.

Despite all this I left the ground with a smile on my face. I’m so proud to be an Evertonian and no doubt Reds will feel the same, but as I replied to the insensitive friend who texted me after the game, Liverpool fans should be embarrassed to rely so heavily on Lady Luck, dodgy refereeing decisions and penalties. I’m much happier being a down-on-their-luck Blue, and experiencing all the problems that brings with it. When we win it really means something and we do it properly. I really hope this article inspires some banter and criticism from strangely-monikered observers in the comments box as that just underlines my point.

With the first of the UEFA league matches coming up so soon after, we might not be distressed for long. Larissa are a test yes, especially after beating Blackburn in the qualifiers. Yakubu looked a little more up for it and important players are coming back to fitness so I expect my next article to be a bit more upbeat. Mention of Rovers makes me think, I’ve kind of neglected the region’s other teams for a while sorry, they’re doing ok, scoring lots of goals, I like their forward line and they don’t seem to have the dirty tag that has dogged them in recent seasons. Wigan are clearly struggling though, and Marcus Bent can never be Emile Heskey, so I fear for them.

Lower down, Preston are struggling, Blackpool are faring slightly better, Carlisle are going from strength to strength under their new manager John Ward, and Morecambe are coping well in mid-table security, as things stand.

Back to Merseyside, however. As the city celebrates its 800th year, its history is being celebrated, and is littered with turning points, events which could have led to much different outcomes. The Capital of Culture year is sure to be another one. The Big Dig carries on relentlessly like a monster, the Turner Prize has arrived to lukewarm acclaim (my highlight of the private view was passing Alan Hansen on the stairs and not making a drunken comment).

In terms of football, this dialectic story (changes occurring over time) is the case too. The favourite argument of a colleague is to mock the “if it wasn’t for Heysel” cry which, like it or not, does have some truth in it, not just for Everton but for Liverpool and other British clubs. The funny thing about this argument when it rears its ugly head is that others laugh along as if they understand but they clearly don’t and if the tables were turned they wouldn’t be so vocal. I learned a long time ago to accept this and try to smile about it.

Brian Labone once made a famous quote about one Evertonian being worth twenty Liverpudlians. Some of my best friends being Shanks devotees make this a questionable statement but the fact remains I honestly think we are the better people for the challenges we face and the disappointments we endure. You may scoff, Clattenberg may do his utmost to test us, but when our day comes it will mean much more.

But I’m really not being bitter. I enjoyed Saturday’s match and was quite pleased with the outcome. Even now I can look back on events and laugh. Even if I’ve seen it all before and will probably see it many times again. Because, for personal reasons, I’m happy to let them win the battles, however unfairly they might do it, because I just know we will win the war. And not just on the pitch.

Now, where did I put the remote?

What a difference a week makes in football.

A week ago, both Everton and Liverpool knew that a win could send them top. Tonight, phone-ins and letter pages speak louder than bombs in suggesting time could be running out for messrs Benitez and Moyes.

An overstatement perhaps. Though it is difficult to argue that recent events, performances and decisions have caused more fans than usual to question the job security of our favourite David Gest and Groundskeeper Willie / V visitor* look-alikes.

At this point it might be worth me offering a personal stance on the debate before we delve deeper. Having been called an uttertwat, bitter bluenose whinger and genius  based on earlier articles, I do not write this with an ulterior motive. I am a Moyes fan, and though I find Benitez’s inane excuses and complaints laughable, do admire him as a coach and believe most of the criticism to be rather unfair. Apart from of his beard.

Anyway, on with the show.

I do not feel particularly sorry for these two, they come into the job knowing exactly what to expect. Especially on the veritable hotbed of football banter / knowledge that is Merseyside and its associated opportunities for fans to voice their opinion. Both managers have pulled off masterstrokes early on in their career, what with the People’s Club quote and some trophy they won in Constantinople, but it could also be said that both have been a little lucky to stay in a job at times and have never entirely convinced people.

Liverpool at least haven’t been losing games. By all accounts it could have been worse down at Portsmouth, and while the Porto result wasn’t great, a point there is a positive. Expectations are such though, that a niller at home to Birmingham is not acceptable, particularly when you leave arguable your best striker on the bench. That overhead showed his class and it’s not something we’ll have to deal with anytime soon, but squad rotation for the sake of it seems silly when four points are dropped.

Everton have, it has to be said, been a little unlucky in terms of injuries, with Cahill, Arteta, Gravesen, Howard and Vaughan all missing at present. The United game was a strange one, surely at least a couple of these players could have made a difference. As for Metalist, that one match reminded me why I love being an Evertonian so much. The months of expectancy, the late kick off, the atmosphere, the missed penalties… I left with a smile on my face and that says something. As for Villa, bad decisions and a lack of bite meant the Blues were jeered off, some might say let’s put it down to experience and move on.

The title of this article doesn’t mean I apologise for being an uttertwat. It actually refers to our striker situation, by that I mean Andy Johnson, James Beattie and Yakubu. In a way, I’m sorry for each, just for different reasons.

I’m never sure if you should feel sorry for a footballer. Gazza’s tears, horrific injuries, News of the World exposes aside, how can one truly feel sympathy for a grown man paid thousands to live out our dreams? Especially when a small portion of that wage is actually funded by ourselves. Maybe I’m being over-sensitive, it is certainly difficult to feel bad for someone who as an earlier article (one that didn’t actually get too much criticism) described the spectacle of seeing the expensive cars and washbags first hand.

But the fact remains that to fail or make a mistake at the highest level in front of watching thousands must be hard to take sometimes. I’m sure they get used to it from an early age, the growing pressure and exposure being the catalyst for an inflated ego or thickened skin. I hope they do anyway – I know I wouldn’t be able to cope with the guilt or disappointment the three aforementioned might be feeling now.

Like I said, maybe it doesn’t matter to them. It is unlikely that many players can feel as much love and despair as us fans for a club they are merely an employee of at the end of the day, yes there are some exceptions, but nowadays the shirt-kissing and signing on fees suggest a coolness or disassociation from getting too involved, what with the risk of future lucrative pay days or transfer requests. I firmly believe that these three do care to some extent – which is why I worry for their emotional health and well being at present.

Johnson in particular looks a player short on confidence, an attribute much needed as a professional I would presume. His body language and current scoring record do not make good viewing, and certainly neither did his penalties in the UEFA cup. Alright so he’s not our first or second choice penalty taker and I missed a couple for Barton Rovers Under 14s so kind of know how hard it is, but even so, in such an important game, surely only Everton could have had such a laughable experience. The second awarding of a penalty caused many around me in the Gwladys Street to roll their eyes and say “not him”, indeed star performer Baines looked keen to have a go, but Captain Neville made sure AJ stepped up and the rest is history. The question is then, would Johnson want our sympathy? And how long can his goalless streak continue before fans question his place in the team?

Which leads us to Beattie. Yes I know he’s no longer an Everton player but look how well he has started the season, seven goals for Sheffield United. One Sunday paper suggested he was reminding McClaren of his prowess, and pleading not to be overlooked. This is the player who only scored a couple for us last season, was given many chances by the manager and just never took them. I certainly felt sorry for him, as he ran around huffing and puffing across the turf like an ungainly deer. But the whole being paid a lot to do little did negate my anguish somewhat. I sincerely hope James is top scorer this season, he is a fellow Lancastrian after all, but I feel he will always have a little regret that it didn’t work out. Only time will tell if we do too.

As for Yakubu, the way he worked for a move to Everton means he will certainly have few fans or sympathisers. One esteemed writer said his performance in the European match suggested he’d had a bereavement in the family. I’m all for timing runs and preserving energies but when it makes you look lazy and simply not arsed it becomes a problem. I hope we don’t end up sorry we paid so much.

Maybe all three will come good and I’ll be labelled and berated again. But at least I won’t be sorry.

Just think about it. The educational analogies are long and clear when you look closer.

All the end of term celebrations and awards. A long summer of rest and recuperation, before preparing for a new year with hopes and aspirations. Buying the new kit, or uniform, or for us teachers, spending loads at Primark so you look the part. A large building full of people where many have gone before. Having to get to know loads of new signings  (I now know how City fans must feel when I was faced with thirty new Year 7 faces). Difficult fixtures, that is lessons, with challenging opponents. League tables. Training, that is revision, before the exams or World Cup tournament. Emotions running high during fifty minute matches when you try to win ie actually teach something. Dealing with bad behaviour and the punishments. Marking, or post-match analysis. Being proud of what you support, even though it’s often difficult and upsetting (well, mine is a tough school). And like Everton, in a couple of years our school will close and move to a futuristic new home.

In terms of football, 2007-8 promised much after an eventful summer. Money was spent frivolously, new television channels arrived, controversy reigned after certain events, and anticipation was high. So far, it hasn’t disappointed.

Liverpool have unsurprisingly been the most impressive team in my region so I’ll start with them. They remind me of a year 11 lad who I never got on with but so far he has returned with a changed attitude and is actually pleasant to me. I hate to say it but Voronin, Babel, Pennant and particularly Torres have been outstanding. Liverpool can now play more exciting attacking football on the break, and are getting results where they once wouldn’t have. But for a dodgy decision (when I said same old story to a drunk Red after that match, he didn’t get the irony, but I was proud of it) they would have a hundred percent record.

Another team in red who’ve started well is Morecambe, though slightly less famously. They’re like my new ICT set, a small group with promise but naïve and with lots to learn. Their wins at Preston and Tranmere were fantastic, and a couple of other good results mean they are nicely settled in League Two, with an intriguing away tie at Sheffield United to come. Elsewhere in Lancashire, Preston and Blackpool have not set their league alight just yet, and Seasiders/Tangerines/whatever nickname you like, must be worried that Simon Grayson may soon be off to join the Mandaric madness at Leicester. However, just down the road, Blackburn have made a good start. They were unlucky not to beat Everton recently, and are progressing nicely in Europe. Roque Santa Cruz is not just the inspiration for some good chants but looks a class act, and even though they are still bruisers, have some very good and skilful players going forward who will score them goals.

Tranmere are solid if unspectacular, and have had a couple of good away wins. Carlisle were doing well too, despite losing their manager early on, but lost at home last week and will be looking to get back to winning ways soon. Wigan are up and down, with Heskey doing especially well and deserving an England recall.

These teams represent my new classes, I know a bit about them but we’ve not spent enough time together for me to comment further. I’m sure we will get to know each other better and I’ll soon have more to say about them. Wigan actually came to us the first day of the season and looked poor, but then we didn’t look much better. They were that difficult first lesson that you just want to get through with minimum fuss and a positive outcome. However, the Tottenham away game will already be one of the highlights of the season, a bit like my lie-ins during the weekend after the first week back, and all looked very good when we sat proudly at the summit of the football league. Even after two matches, that was a sight for sore eyes, as were Arteta’s silky skills. The wheels seemed to have come off after the disappointments of Reading and Blackburn, but then came Bolton away, and the joy of seeing Joleon wheeling away after his last minute winner.

To be honest, the signings Moyes has made have so far looked very good. At least an hour of deadline day was spent with me sat transfixed on various websites awaiting the sight of Riquelme in a blue shirt holding up a replica footy. Sadly this was just a fantasy, but even the Argentinian would have struggled to match the immediate effect that Yakubu and Gravesen had at the Reebok. Baines and Jagielka are also looking really good acquisitions, though less high profile, and Steven Pienaar has showed glimpses of a talent but looks a little lightweight, perhaps a bit like Leon Osman.

Talking of Gravesen, I was slightly surprised by his return. People often say you should never go back. Experience from past relationships will have taught many of us that. For us Evertonians, the experiences of Ferguson and Kendall (twice) have made painful viewing, but since Tommy Grav was never everyone’s cup of tea first time around, we’ll reserve judgement a little longer. He will never be as good a player as the seemingly snidey Manuel Fernandes, but on his day can be effective and clearly loves the club and the fans which will do for me.

Upcoming games against Utd and Metalist will tell us more about where we are, but even if we lose both, the signs are promising. I think Everton are like my tutor group. I love them to bits and they sometimes frustrate me but they try hard and I see them often enough to know what to expect from them. They have their moments and a couple of difficult individuals but what I like most about them is that they’re mine and they appreciate my support, we grow together and I’ll defend them to the hilt.

In terms of the rest of the school, sorry Premier League, new initiatives, approaches and attitudes have made interesting viewing. It looks like being a slightly less predictable season, even Manchester United haven’t done much yet. Tottenham have surprised many with their lacklustre start, their match with Arsenal will be interesting I’m sure. Meanwhile, teams like Villa and Manchester City look much stronger than last year and may continue to surprise the top teams. As things stand, that group includes Everton, which is a nice thing to be saying. England do often flatter to deceive, but did quite well against Israel and may continue the feel good factor around football at the minute.

Unlike football however, my first week back was rubbish. But, just like football, there’s always hope. The Carling Cup’s coming up soon. But then again, we might just get an Ofsted.

This Saturday, before the Blackburn game, we will hear a watershed announcement for Everton Football Club.

Last Saturday, whilst the table toppers were losing at Reading, I was sat watching a fantastic musical about the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz. And the following night, whilst Liverpool fans were bemoaning the refereeing decision against Chelsea (the drunken Reds fan I asked the score didn’t realise the irony of his ‘same old story’ response) I sat on my own in a cinema to watch Eagle Vs Shark.

Anyway, these events are kind of linked…

The announcement I mention concerns whether or not the majority of Evertonians are for or against continuing to look into the proposed move to a new stadium in Kirkby next to a TESCO.

For three weeks, current and former season ticket holders amongst other fans, have been asked to put a cross in a box on a piece of paper sent to them by the Electoral Reform people, and accompanied by a glossy brochure proclaiming the move to Kirkby as being the only feasible outcome in the whole stadium debate. Our chairman, manager and players have come out and stated why a move is important, and interesting stadium designs published, whilst Duncan Ferguson and one of those planes (the ones you always see on Big Brother, this time with a message behind it saying “Vote No to Kirkby”) being two of the loudest anti-move protesters, plus bright yellow stickers saying SAY NO.

Unfortunately, many fans seem split on this topic, which has resulted in some tense arguments on message boards and fanzine pages, and chants in the Gwladys Street. Many don’t see Kirkby as being part of Liverpool (it is in fact proud to be in Knowsley) even though a large majority of Everton fans (and two first-teamers) come from there. The Blue Boys even come out to the theme of Z-Cars, a TV programme set in what was meant to be Kirkby (Newtown).

In the interests of anonymity and fear of lynching, I won’t say which box my cross went in. However, I will say it is sad to see the club not having the guts to continue its initial plans, and that I fear more could happen depending on the result. It is also sad to see Liverpool City Council not being able to push for a definitive site within the city boundaries, despite Warren Bradley’s desires, whilst all along the Echo gleefully prints images of the impressive new Anfield Bowl in Stanley Park – where we started, if you know your history.

Anyway talking of evil witchcraft and green-skinned villains, Wicked the Musical, which claims to tell the real story of the witches in The Wizard of Oz, was fantastically entertaining. I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon of songs, comedy and special effects and got to thinking about how different that afternoon was to what I normally spend my Saturday afternoons doing.

Whilst we were there, two Americans were sat in front of us in restricted view seats. They moved at the interval, but explained the slight reduction in price made it worthwhile. The unfortunate knock-on effect was that we had had restricted views for the first half, but as I explained to my family, my season ticket at Goodison is not for an obstructed view seat yet I can’t see the whole pitch, do spend a lot of the match on my feet, and don’t grumble (the first time I’ve used grumble, one of my favourite words, in an article, fact fans) even though I don’t get any reduction. It adds to the spectacle in a way.

Anyway the next day I went to a less-soulless-than-most Multiplex to watch the impressive New Zealand(er?) film, Eagle Vs Shark. As I excitedly bought my ticket, little did I know I would be THE ONLY PERSON IN THE CINEMA. Well, for twenty minutes at least, at which point rather embarrassingly a young couple walked in during the opening credits, to great awkwardness on all our parts, but by then the damage had been done. I sat during my period of solitude, feet on chairs, munching popcorn, talking on my phone to someone I wished was with me, thinking – just imagine if you went the match on your own? I mean, I go the match on my own normally and quite like it that way, but imagine an empty stadium apart from yourself and the players and coaching staff. Whilst in the cinema I thought to myself, will they even show the film, or apologise profusely and offer vouchers – similarly, would the match still go ahead? Would it be enjoyed fully if it did?

And that’s where the three moments meet, a bit like the storylines of elaborate US dramas but perhaps less exciting – will this week’s ballot result change the experience of going the match forever? Will we be sat alone, isolated, lonely, with awkward relationships formed in shared seating arrangements? Will we complain if we can’t see the whole pitch or if it’s not a thrill a minute? And will the dissenters take long to complain that we should have moved or stayed where we were?

These questions may not be answered for years. I am proud that Everton have taken the stance of asking their fans, their People, what they want, but am worried that we will divide as a support as a result. We already suffer poor accommodation and facilities and on some afternoons, entertainment, some love this fact, and this might change in Kirkby, but will we lose our identity in the process?

In the Wizard of Oz, it said the Witch melts when Dorothy throws a bucket of water over her. At the end of Wicked (stop reading now if you’re planning to see it, soz) we realise she was never that wicked, just misunderstood, and we see her emerge, alive, and elope with the Scarecrow to pastures new.

Quite how this is symbolic to Everton’s dilemma I’m not sure, I think there is something in it, and we all know that Bill Kenwright does love a drama. Both the musical and the film had a happy ending. For all our sakes, I hope the stadium debate does too.

And so it went… Saddened and shocked by the premature death of Anthony H Wilson, who was probably more responsible than Morrissey for putting the M in Manchester, a bad night’s sleep on Friday led me to the first day of the season.

Optimism, sunshine, Sky Sports News, fry-up… and excitement, what excitement. Earlier in the week, I’d decided to do something I’d not done for years, something to herald the start of a new season and to try to rekindle the flames of enthusiasm that the beginning of the SKY era had brought.

I went the ground for midday, pen in hand, in the hope of seeing the players arrive, and collecting cherished autographs.

When my dad used to take me to matches in the early 90s, I’d drag him to the ground as early as possible and we’d stand around waiting for autographs and photos with heroes such as Jason Kearton, Paul Holmes and Les Helm and Jimmy Martin, the Everton physio and kitman of the day. Now of course, I knew it would be very different, and though I would have a match programme from Saturday covered in illegible scribbling, I did expect it to be a surreal, sobering experience.

First to arrive was Phil Neville, scowling and tanned, then Andy Johnson, moody but accommodating and with an amazing car. As the rest of the first team squad turned up and duly signed shirts and books and posed patiently for mobile phone photographs, the crowd of fans swelled. I admit I must have looked a bit odd, older than most of my fellow devotees, and than a lot of the players I was actually waiting for.

It got me thinking about the boundaries between player and fans, indeed at Goodison you’re separated from your heroes by a line of blue railings. Smaller kids reach hopefully through the gaps, for a signing that will mean much more than the paper it’s often written on. I realised that though there’s still a joy to be gained from meeting someone you cheer on every week, it’s also quite humiliating, what must the player be thinking as he writes his name for you (or more often, just a doodle, strangely met with their squad number, as if that tag follows them around forever)?

As an avid autograph collector, this is something I’ve become more and more conscious of over the years, but meeting the likes of Liam Gallagher, Peter Blake or Dave from the Zutons recently, have got away with quite easily. With Ebay’s help I’ve even managed to get Morrissey’s and Beyonce’s signatures (both look real enough) but for some reason with footballers it’s just that bit weirder.

When Arteta scurried past us, explaining he was late, I felt a pang of disappointment reminiscent of my childhood. I held out the photo I’d taken of him at a recent game like the pre-pubescent me, in awe of my favourite player once again. That brought back the excitement factor to the occasion, and I guess the reason why we do it all. Regardless of age or income, these men are living out our dream, and a souvenir of a meeting, whether chance or forced, is the closest we can get to proving the experience happened, well, without a camera anyway, and maybe some of their skill and fame will pass over to us? I walked away for a prematch pint quite happy, though, Arteta will just have to wait another day to meet me, I supposed.

Anyway overall it was an enjoyable ninety minutes, more enjoyable perhaps than the match, which we won 2-1, without ever playing particularly well. Wigan were poor, we weren’t much better, the atmosphere was lifted a few times only by the mercurial Mikel’s magic moments. He just gets better every game, and is now getting the recognition we have, in a way, been fearing he would. If he can continue this form and others around him can up their game a little, things could actually be looking up for us Blues, and not just at the expensive ‘VOTE NO FOR KIRKBY’ plane that flew overhead before kick off.

Meanwhile, Tranmere were losing to Leeds, apparently all over the country though the half time score was met with cheers, football fans do not tend to think ‘there but for the grace of God’ when it comes to Leeds, rather to celebrate their demise. Those fans of clubs recently bought by foreign investors should perhaps read the most recent FourFourTwo and consider such actions. Carlisle drew at Walsall, a result which prompted the board to lose confidence in their manager. Chester, Preston and Morecambe however, all drew nil nil in their respective home matches, which would have been disappointing and somewhat anti-climactic, especially with Blackpool getting one of the results of the day winning at Leicester.

Which brings me, in alphabetical terms anyway, to Liverpool. As I wrote in previous articles, nothing surprises me where they, and Stevie G, are concerned, and the innocuous challenge which led to a superb winner at Villa Park kind of summed up my feelings towards that particular individual. I shudder to think how they’ll win their next match, especially if Gerrard’s in such an aggravating mood. I certainly can’t imagine asking him for his autograph the next time I see him buying bread in Marks’s.

I was recently awoken by a text from the esteemed editor of the English Football Post asking for my all-time XI from the English league. It was the first day of the summer holidays (being a teacher does have its benefits) and I’d had a really great weekend so maybe wasn’t thinking straight…

At least that’s the reason I’ll give when asked why I chose a certain newlywed Red in the centre midfield alongside a red (haired) late legend Alan Ball. I still question my decision now, but if anything am pleased I did it.

Steven Gerrard is for many of us, particularly Evertonians, the epitome of what we dislike about Liverpool FC. The arrogance, the lack of personality, attracted to glamour and commercial success, questionable temperament… qualities he seems to share with many of their fans. Perhaps the most galling aspect of his character, and that of the club itself, is that they were both once ‘Everton’ – just as a greedy Scotsman drove the Blues out of Anfield back in 1892 to form the Reds, so Gerrard was more than probably a Blue, at least for a day anyway, as the photo of him with the ’87 trophy shows.

He hasn’t played so well in the last couple of derbies, indeed was childishly sent off the year before and had tears in his eyes as he trudged off the ‘hallowed’ Anfield pitch. However, his presence in my all time team of class is certainly merited, unfortunately. He has developed from I think, a full back of raw promise, to a star performer in most positions, apparently he was even man of the match in a couple of pre-season friendlies last week.

Too often now, so much so that it has become a little predictable, Gerrard is the one who has dragged his underperforming team-mates out of the mire, normally on the big stage, and usually with a moment of brilliance. Our flat was cheering West Ham in 2006 but silenced at the end by that goal. Similarly, a couple of games I only vaguely recall last season at Anfield, Istanbul, Olympiakos etc ad nauseum. He’s even started doing it more regularly for England, I hate to say it, perhaps saving McClaren his job in the Andorra debacle.

What I would do to have someone like that in the centre of our midfield. Love them as I do, Carsley and Neville together only scored a couple of goals last season and don’t expect Jags to trouble many opposing goalkeepers, unless he’s playing in nets himself…

Stevie G as his devotees love to call him (though somewhat unsurprisingly a moniker I despise and find strangely laughable) is the sort of player and maybe even man, lots of young impressionable boys want to be. All-action, bustling, goalscoring hero who never fails to impress it would seem. Personally, I prefer to be a graceful Platini or Zidane, or even a less graceful, but still quite skilful, van der Meyde or James McFadden, when I play 11-a-side, but I can see the appeal nonetheless.

We all love football for many reasons, some of which might simply be because we admire those who can do it a lot better than us. I spend two weeks wages every year on the chance to see some of these players, many of whom are younger than myself, because I would love to be able to do what they can. Some people admittedly pay their money to do the opposite, choosing instead to abuse the individuals, possibly through jealousy or insecurity, it depends who the player is I guess. I’ve done it myself, but am now seeing even the villains who have caused me pain and tears in life, in a different light. Maybe it’s growing up, falling in love, teaching…

I always vow never to get too deep in what I write but it always seems to happen. Unfortunately, no amount of cognitive behavioural therapy can stop me finding links between football and the real life I live. The two are clearly intertwined, but not to the extent I sometimes think. We love something and therefore have to hate whatever comes up against it, particularly if it makes us suffer, but surely we should all be accepting of any footballer who plays the game well, even our heroes might be idiots off the pitch and we might never know it.

And the greatest skill we can show, if not out on the pitch in our beloved shirt, is the maturity and ability to at least respect someone much better at fooball than we (or maybe some of our club’s players) could ever hope to be. Some players respond to being wound up, vilified, harangued, and perform better because of it, their determination pulling them through. If only a crowd could simply ignore the hate figure on the opposition, maybe even applaud them, and see what happens, the romantic in me thinks it would confuse them sufficiently to allow The Best Little Spaniard We Know to waltz through and win us the game.

But anyway Gerrard. I still hate him, and his silly haircut and embarrassing adverts and stupid celebrations, but for some reason am in admiration of most of what he does on the pitch. So I had to put him in the dream team. He is a one-off, and the way the fans love him is quite remarkable, I see it every day with kids at school, and where he’s come from too makes it at least partly inspirational that one day one of the kids I teach can get to the same peak of success and talent. As long as they’ve got a better persona and choose to wear a blue shirt, I’ll be happy, and may even forgive him.

Or maybe not. Altogether now…

It’s been a funny old Summer.

Teams up and down the West Coast Mainline are in the main quite content, some ecstatic, and would you believe Liverpool were one of only two of our teams to end the season with relative disappointment. Naturally, I didn’t enjoy that moment at all, or try to order a 2007 winners Athens t-shirt (actually I wanted Kaka’s ‘I belong to Jesus’ version).

Therefore, the summer came quickly and money has been spent, new stadiums discussed, and it’s gone quite quickly too. There’s been the Copa America and some absurdly early friendlies to fill the gap, and now, only a couple of weeks to go. Fantasy Football listings in the paper, new shirts being worn all over town, and before you know it we’ll be watching Jeff Stelling and the boys and eagerly awaiting Post-match interviews discussing the latest controversy or wonder goal.

The lower league team I’ll be looking out for most next year will be Morecambe. Having won a glorious play-off final that for some reason was live on Sky Sports News, they approach their first League season with intrepid optimism, and a rejuvenated town spirit presumably not felt since the Stones played the Winter Gardens (as my uncle always reminds me). I’m originally from Lancaster you see, and the club I played for as a boy, despite its being a City, are so far in the Shrimps’ shadows not even Steve Zissou could locate them. They are the team, remember, that ended the season on nil points having been deducted ten, lost all their players, and struggled to even get out of minus figures. Thankfully, features on Focus and Granada Soccer Night seemed to do the trick and relegation brought with it a new hope. Meanwhile, Morecambe are looking at a new stadium, certainly their crowds this year will be enhanced dramatically, though whether or not the players will be celebrating in the sea front’s most famous nightclub The Carlton we’ll have to see.

Blackpool are also celebrating, having had a fantastic end to the season and winning n the play-offs, the trips to Bramall Lane and The Valley will evoke memories of their heyday and Mortensen and Matthews lighting up Wembley Way. Simon Grayson has worked wonders at the club and we can only hope that this will be the year the Seasiders finally fill in that last end of the ground. That sea wind’s terrible you know…

Elsewhere in Lancashire, Blackburn and Bolton – whatever. In the words of Morrissey, I find it almost impossible to care (although I don’t think he was commenting on these two teams at the time) as I can’t stand either, new signings, European ventures etc, a new manager for one, but no doubt they’ll remain horrible to watch, hard to beat and generally irrelevant. Good luck to them and their fans, at least Allardyce isn’t involved any more I suppose.

I quite like Burnley actually, though all I’ve heard about them this close season has been that Alistair Campbell bid £15000 to be a squad member for the day so that’ll improve their chances no end.

Wigan meanwhile is a different story. I’ve always had a soft spot for them, I don’t particularly like the team or ex manager but they try hard and have a few old Evertonians amongst them. They’ve been spending big too, and the scribe who wrote above my local’s gents’ urinal ‘Titus Bramble – misunderstood genius’ may well have had a few too many Magners but may just also have got it right. If however they sell Leighton Baines that would be a shame as he’s a Kirkby lad too and has a great left foot. I’m just jealous I suppose cos I kind of wanted us to sign him.

Liverpool then… what more can you say other than they’ll be there or there abouts yet again next season, Rafa’s probably got the final pieces (of eight? He does look like a pirate with that awful goatee). Voronin looks class, Torres will probably be a success, no doubt even Kewell might make the team. Blah blah blah. They’ve spent and sold heavily and generally look to have improved even more, but I question the fans’ embracement of the American investment (random soundbite – fan outside Anfield to George Gilette, “We gona bring the European Cup home George?” “You bet your ass we will!”) when they so ridicule Manchester Utd’s Glazers arrival.

What I do have to say will happen is that Liverpool will become even more of a parody of themselves and win games with luck or divine/devilish intervention and even if they beat each other up for fake tickets, ‘The Kop’ will be applauded as the greatest fans in the world yet again.

That comment probably explains who I’ll be mentioning most in my correspondence this season. Yes, I am a sometimes bitter, occasionally optimistic Evertonian. I started supporting them in 1986 because I liked Lineker (I was a child) and I felt sorry for them at the Cup Final. That’s a feeling I’ve continued to have towards the self-styled People’s Club over the years, though often I think people have felt sorry for me too.

After the relative success of last season and the giddy heights of being disappointed with a draw at Chelsea on the last day, it’s been down to earth with a bump on Planet Everton, not enough signings, missing out on possible important players and generally doing not so great in their friendlies. With Vaughan now facing a long lay off, AJ and McFadden still coming back to fitness and only Victor looking threatening, I’d like to think there may be a big signing on the way. Fernandes looked class at times last year, but if Beattie is to have any fond memories of his time with us, now is the time to do it, especially if nobody else comes in.

Nugent, Koumas, Barton and maybe Baines were all touted as in the pipeline, but, as with Kieron Richardson, something wasn’t right with any of them for Moyes’ liking and so we face the prospect of a UEFA run with too small a squad. Maybe the rumours are true though and Riquelme will be joining before the big kick-off, ironically against Wigan. I haven’t excitedly salivated as much (football wise incase she’s reading) since Ruben Sosa was allegedly on his way.

At the same time, there’s all this talk of the new stadium, Kirkby or not Kirkby, that is one of the questions, shared grounds etc, should we stay or should we go? One thing’s for sure, it’s bound to be a typical Everton season with more questions than answers.

Or maybe not and this is the year of the underdog when twenty one years of mediocrity are ended and Phil Neville is parading the trophy around the pitch come May, whilst Little Leon and Nuno Valente frolic in the sunshine with Carling-branded champagne and we all film it on our phones in the Gwladys Street end of the School of Science. One can but dream…

And that’s what it’s all about ultimately isn’t it. Every one can be an optimist, hopeful that this could be our season, this is the one… at least until the end of the first match, when reality kicks in.

And that feeling is what we should all enjoy and cherish. Cos that’s what it’s all about, or at least should be.

Bloody hell, football.

An intro to a Northwest blog started by Jon Greenbank.

Blackpool Tower… Cilla Black… Kendal Mint Cake… George Formby… Jennifer Ellison… Meat & Potato Pies… Cockle Pickers… Les Dawson… Black Pudding… Eric Morecambe… Preston Guild… Potted Shrimps… The Sand Castle… Scouse… Willy Russell… Eddie Spotters… Hollyoaks… Stu Sutcliffe… Uncle Joe’s Mint Balls

If you’re not already familiar with this area of the country, read Stuart Maconie’s excellent ‘In Search of the North’ and you’ll understand what these mean.

I have the privilege of covering the West Coast Main line, for those of you familiar with Virgin trains and their quiet zones and hotline magazine (also a good read) which takes in Merseyside (the focus of my considered opinions / bitter drivel – you can decide by reading my preview here) as well as Lancashire and hopefully (if my flat mate’s reading) Carlisle. We’ve got the Capital of Culture, Four Thousand Holes, England’s newest city, the Golden Mile, the seaside town that they forgot to shut down, and the gateway to the Lakes plus lots more besides.

I am lucky that it’s a veritable hotbed of football, has been ever since the League’s formation (go the National Football Museum at Deepdale) and decided to name my section after the Hitchcock classic because a)it’s a weird place and b) this season could be a thriller for many teams…

Along the way I’ll just try to tell it like it is. Thanks to my dad my love of football started with PNE, I grew up on a diet of Elton Welsby and Shoot magazine, played for Lancaster City Youth, before arriving in Liverpool a wide eyed student with a season ticket in the Gwladys Street. The affection remains, even in these days of foreign investment and new stadia. I will attempt to get to the bottom of the particularly intriguing football culture that this region offers, whilst staying aware of the national and international trends and stories (we are in the UEFA Cup after all!)

And what a season to start writing… with so many questions to answer on the way. Will Liverpool win the league? Might Morecambe stay afloat? Could Blackpool continue their (golden miles of) progress? Can Chris Hutchings stay in a job? Will Blackburn to win any friends? Should Carlisle follow Gretna? Can Chester keep a manager? Are Tranmere to glow under the Friday night lights? Should Preston be proud? And most importantly, is this the year Everton actually win something?

Come with me as the Master of Suspense weaves one of his greatest tales…

Jon Greenbank - North By Northwest