If like me, you suffer from a paranoid disposition, think the majority of newspapers have it in for Liverpool (emanating from growing up in a time when the Reds dominated), or echo thoughts of conspiracy theorists and wonder whether that whole missing piece of the jigsaw thing wasn’t just another contrived ideology by the media to keep Liverpool’s hands off what was once ‘their’ trophy, then you’ll most probably agree that our most recent tag as ‘bona fide title contenders’ is just the latest ploy to derail an unusually auspicious start to our season.

I know we are not meant to say these things as they do usually come back to haunt us, but when I examine the attributes of this current Liverpool team, I am sure that come the end of the season, if we don’t win it, we will be closer than we’ve been since that killer ‘Fever Pitch’ Michael Thomas moment, and the opposition will have to be nearly faultless to stop us fulfilling our destiny. I just hope I haven’t jinxed us.

Michael Thomas scores 'THAT' goal for Arsenal against Liverpool 1989

You see, Benitez seems to have solved the riddle which has been niggling everyone for almost twenty years, and in the process, he is liberating Liverpool FC from the shackles of such self-defeating pursuits as searching for missing links. Think how predestination kept servile Catholics in their places for hundreds of years and you’re close to discovering the crux of what has been stunting this football club since they last won the title in 1990.

What seems astonishing to me, yet so utterly ingenious at the same time, is how Benitez has allowed such contrived notions to pervade during his tenure, as though to create a smokescreen, allowing him to sedulously chip away at his master-plan. Like say, how a master conjurer uses subterfuge in his act, allowing the person who is supposed to be chopped in-two, to slip away unnoticed.

Now, it is no great secret that it takes two major things to be successful in the Premier League, however, whereas a great wad of cash is painfully obvious, the other is less so, and it’s the amalgamation of both the money and the right contingency which is a modern day requirement for all the serious challengers. Having worked all this out in his heady days at Valencia, where local heroes Canizaires, Albelda, Vicente and Mista were pivotal to his success, it is a formula Benitez is only too familiar with, and there’s evidence to suggest he’s been working towards achieving this synthesis since his arrival on Merseyside. Now the Rafalution looks to be in its final stages.

Albelda - Homegrown talent, one of two reasons for Benitez's success at Valencia

Often accused of relying too heavily on ‘Roy of the Rovers’ Gerrard, Liverpool now look like a team filled with match-winners who are adequately supported by the doggedness of Mascherano, Carragher and the steal of Skertel (prior to his injury). I just hope the latter’s injury does not prove decisive and he’s back on his feet for the business end of the season, as he has become indispensable to this new blend of worthy title contenders.

It’s funny, watching Guy Ritchie’s ‘Rocknrolla’ the other evening, bizarrely offered me an unexpected ray of optimism, when in its best moments, for which there weren’t too many (though I’d give it an entertaining ***’s), this Russian ex-military bloke who bore an uncanny resemblance to our Slovak (same difference) warhorse Skertel, wouldn’t stay down no matter what they threw at him, unremittingly chasing the cockney protagonist. I’m not sure Ritchie intended to insinuate that Eastern Europeans are like machines, or it was playing on my own scandalous prejudices (for which I sincerely apologise), but it evoked such assumptions in me and left me hopeful of Skertel’s speedy recovery.

Skertel - The Indestructible Russian (sorry, I mean Slovak)

Then there’s been the reinvigorating resurgence of the bellicose Kuyt; the growing understanding between the irrepressible Torres and the now monkeyless Robbie Keane (who has the credentials to become yet another Kop icon); and let’s not forget Steven Gerrard, the heartbeat of Rafa’s title hopefuls.

On route to approaching this threshold of building a squad that is there or thereabouts, there have arguably been three key moments for Benitez which have laid the foundations for what seems like imminent success. And I don’t mean his gargantuan achievements in Europe. His biggest achievements to date were: 

• 1) Persuading Steven Gerrard to stay at Liverpool, where he would become the lynchpin and captain of a side, which Rafa would build around him, that would be challenging for the coveted title (Thankfully Gerrard saw this his destiny and displayed venerable ambition in his decision)
• 2) Converting Jamie Carragher to centre back, where he has become one of the most revered defenders in Europe and central to this side’s cause.
• 3) And finally his unanimous public backing during the exasperating Yankee feud which must’ve give Rafa the assurances he was looking for, or he could’ve left us in limbo.

These will prove the most significant and preparatory events in Liverpool’s most serious assault on the title for decades. These three events also confirmed for Benitez, if for no one else, that everything is in place for his master plan to finally come into fruition.

His plan hasn’t been solely to emulate other successful teams in England, whose conjugations of cash injections and an insertion of talented locals coming through the ranks (though there is a lot to be said for the premise that if you have a player who supported his team since boyhood, he will work his absolute balls off to see that they win, even on freezing cold afternoons in the northeast, ahmmm…Arsenal!)led to continued success, but there has been a deliberate and sustained vision by Benitez to create a team of like-minded individuals with one team mentality.

Sammy Lee's return has given Benitez more focus

Of course, the Spaniard hasn’t always got it right and the importance of Sammy Lee’s return cannot be underestimated. Nevertheless, you have to admire Benitez for his ability to correct his own mistakes insuring nothing and no one gets in the way of his vision. Not one for sentiments, he unceremoniously gets rid of unsuitables, drops star players to the bench and changes systems if things aren’t going to plan. This is a sign of a great manager.

I think it all boils down to ambition. Much is made of Benitez the tactician, the strategist, the tinkerer, yet rarely do people commend him on his judicious insight and perspicuous talent scouting. Simon Cowell has nothing on Benitez.

He often seeks out players with an appetite for success and destiny, particularly players who want this for the team, and not for individual recognition, as an Owen or a Kewell might stand accused. Players of fortitude and burning ambitions; of immense character and desire, whom he will infuse into his formula for success of the highest order. This was integral to his achievements at Valencia and this has been key to his successes at Liverpool in Europe and in Cup competition. Now he’s achieving a level of consistency so that these methods can be applied to the league.

Now, many cite Robbie Keane’s signature, who as the song testifies (Robbie Keane - \’Fiesta\’) has always dreamed of playing for Liverpool, and that of Torres, who indubitably adds the gloss, as final pieces to a jigsaw which is nigh on completion, but for me that theory has already transpired and it is last-gasp goal hero Dirk Kuyt who best personifies what this Liverpool team is about. And his goal at City and the reaction it received from his team-mates only demonstrates further how Kuyt’s infectious spirit typifies a new found belief at the club.

Dirk Kuyt's Herculean work-rate personifies new belief at Liverpool

The only thing proving elusive to me, are those stats that tell us how far a player has ran during a game. If we had them, then I’m sure it would be much easier to fathom why this team is successful. I am in no doubt that Liverpool players, Kuyt in particular, figure high up on these tables (please enlighten us if you have access to them!), and the results would prove conclusively, that this team work their bloody socks off for the cause.

It is this importunate and ambitious character, coupled with the vision of Benitez which makes me certain that this team has what it takes. I just hope to God (cri de coeur!) this inclination materialises and Liverpool win the league, and that I haven’t just played straight into the hands of those who despise us. In Rafa we trust…

The following is a letter I wrote but never sent, to a gentleman I sat with on the 10.22 Liverpool Lime Street - Scarborough train, one Saturday last month. If you think you might know him, please add a comment below or get in touch with efp direct…

October 9^th 2008

Dear Huddersfield fan

I’m sorry to address you like that, but I never got your name. You may or may not remember our recent conversation as you travelled to Huddersfield for the match (I was on the way to York for my folks’ anniversary). Our discussion made me think, a lot, inspiring me to write this letter, and to post it on that website I was telling you about.

So, thank you.

We talked at length about many things, didn’t we - and you predicted some events which have since occurred. I was so glad to see the 3-2 victory over Northampton Town that day, especially as your parting words when you disembarked were “if they don’t win today, that’s it…” Therefore I hope you’ve made it back since, even if results haven’t been great.

So many times I’ve said the same - none more so than recently. On the way back to Liverpool the day after our acquaintance, I was embarrassed to cheer Osman’s equaliser away at Hull, as I listened to poor reception commentary whilst the train yawned its way across the Pennines. That journey was made all the tougher by having to spend at least a portion ‘enjoying’ Manchester City’s demolition of Portsmouth. Since I wrote my last article, I honestly agree with you when you say that football might have changed somewhat.

Jury's still out on Fellaini

 Like I told you, transfer deadline day was one of the strangest events of recent times. Sky Sports News was my companion for most of the day and became more and more ludicrous as the clock ticked down. Like I said, I went to sleep that night at twenty to twelve not just amazed at the goings on at Eastlands but with the genuine fear that Everton had missed their chance. When I got up the following day I was pleased we’d broken our transfer record - but for who exactly?

Having preferred a romantic meal to watching Fellaini’s apparently majestic performance at Anfield, I was more than a little dubious that Moyes had spent so much - panic on the streets of Walton, you could say. And so far, the jury’s out, though I was quite impressed with his performance and goal last weekend.

However, your Everton for relegation tip (14-1 I believe?) is looking a bit sounder after the last few weeks. Defensively questionable, things don’t exactly look set to improve given our next couple of fixtures, and without a UEFA Cup adventure to look forward to this time around, you might just have pulled off a coup.

If you recall, our discussion started with your noticing my t-shirt. Well I’ll be honest with you here, I sat opposite from you that day as I had noticed your centenary shirt and I hoped to comment on it at some point during the journey. I was a little taken aback that you thought me brave (or stupid) to be wearing such a slogan but given the behaviour of some of our fans at the derby I’d have to agree that sometimes ‘One Evertonian equals Twenty Liverpudlians’ might not be the case.

Torres proves two good in the Derby

Now I wasn’t at the derby, I was celebrating my birthday in another church witnessing a more friendly match, but from what I’ve heard and read the old ‘Murdererers’ / ‘The Baby’s Not Yours’ ad nauseum chants were resurrected, despite the plea for Merseyside to reunite in honour of Rhys Jones. When I heard about the bottle being thrown at Gerrard, I was disappointed, though not very surprised. I’ve written about all these issues, plus Torres’ claims for Footballer of the Year, before in greater detail, so will just say my lack of faith in LFC has been restored by the recent behaviour of a couple of their fans I know. Let’s leave it at that, other than to say they do look bloody impressive at the minute.

I’d also missed the admittedly exciting Standard Liege home game, my ticket went unused as more important events came to light. Given Shankly’s links to your hometown club, there’s a nice symmetry there. However, the away leg was hugely anti-climactic, and something will need to be done soon.

The Northern Landscape of Hudderfield as depicted by L.S.Lowry in 1965

I’ve been looking out for results from the Galpharm Stadium since our meeting, and have even found myself recounting your tale about that bar in Bangkok. In fact, that reminded me a little of yet another article I wrote about wearing football shirts abroad, though was much funnier. Please don’t think I’m an obsessed stalker, but there were some strange coincidences that came out of that hour and a half, and it left a lasting impression on me. Indeed, your tales of travelling also left me with a desire to see some of the world you described. India, New Orleans and those other places all sounded wonderful and inspired me to start saving up for a long-distance trip.

Meeting you also made me wish I supported someone else. Not that I regret picking Everton, you must understand, but it reignited an interest in football outside of the Premiership and Champions League and Match of the Day. Your tales of travelling that distance every other Saturday, and of discounted season tickets, and the overweight journeymen that fill the blue and white striped shirts. Other things in my little life have meant that I haven’t yet followed up this moment of inspiration, but I haven’t forgotten it. One Sunday soon, I might even get up in time to watch the Championship.

Best wishes to your family, I hope your son’s decided what he wants to do in the near future. I’ll look out for you next time I’m in your neck of the woods, when Stan Ternent’s on TV or David Unsworth misses a penalty.

Yours Sincerely

The Everton fan

Well, the column is back, and hopefully it will be here for the remainder of the season.  A multitude of time and personal circumstances, led to it being absent for the opening few months, so apologies for that.  Anyway .. enough of the chit chat, lets get stuck into this week’s international games!

Banker Bet

Germany V Russia 

What a game we have in prospect here! The Russians were the neutral’s favourites in the later stages of the Euro’s, where they won many off with their attacking brand of football, sadly they fell flat in the semi’s against the Spanish, but they showed the rest of europe they are a force. Last time out they beat Wales in Moscow 2-1, who were unlucky not to come away with a point, while the German’s showed their defence frailties in a 3-3 draw with Finland. The injured Pavlyuchenko will be replaced upfront by Pogbreynak, the Zenit forward, who scored the winner against the Welsh, while Germany have been dealt a blow with their new No 1, Robert Enke,  breaking his hand in training, so, either Rene Adler or Tim Wiese will earn their first cap in goal. With both sides looking better at going forward than defending, the preference is for goals, and while the over 2.5 market is normally the route i would take (17/20 @ Bet365), the 4-5 on both teams to score looks a better bet, as it gives you the cushion of the game throwing up a 1-1 draw.

Tip = Both teams to score 4-5 @ Bet 365

England V Kazakhstan

Last time out we were treated to the Theo show in Zagreb and that performance has the nation on the team’s side again, this has been reflected with Saturdays game being a sell out.

However, i believe a more straight forward victory will occur on Saturday, as Kazakhstan will be more or less 10 men behind the ball, in stark contrast to the Croatians who set up to win the game and were exposed through Walcotts pace getting behind the full back. His pace will be a danger no doubt, but the room will not be there this time.

Kazakhstan have lost 3-0 to Croatia (a) and suffered a 3-1 defeat to the Ukraine last time out at home, and I expect a similar scoreline here, with England looking to keep something in reserve for Wednesday’s difficult trip to Belarus.

Tip = England to win 3-0 @ 5-1 with most firms

More to follow………….

The season is in its early stages, yet already there seems to be a familiar pattern emerging. But with Manchester Utd off to a slow start, neighbours Manchester City rivalling Chelsea in the annoyingly ‘we’re richer than you’ claims, and Euro-beaters Arsenal slipping to a shock 2-1 home defeat to an audacious and plucky Hull City, it’s not one we’d envisaged.

Plucky Hull City defeat the might of Arsenal

These early season surprises provide further evidence of the increasingly fragile nature of football, reinforcing the belief that nothing can be taken for granted.

Presumably in time, these trends will inevitably alter (how long before foreign investors get bored playing around with English football clubs given the current economic climate?); nevertheless, some things in English football look less likely to change. 

But whilst the Anfield-curse threatens to thwart the career of yet another striker harnessing the burden of a lofty price-tag, it is another unsuspecting goal-threat who is grabbing all the headlines. And he’s grasping them with both hands. Yes it is highly predictable, possibly even Neanderthal - as some have suggested - but Rory Delap’s huge throw-ins are reaping havoc in the Premier League, proving unstoppable for some of the world’s top defences. It hardly seems real?

More bizarrely, the term ‘a Delap’ may even become immortalised in football folklore as many derisively call for its inclusion into the English dictionary. And they say football has become predictable.

On a more serious note, I am slightly perturbed by Stoke’s limited variation of play this season, lack of attacking guile, and our over-cautious style of football. And if we don’t address this hastily, then I’m afraid our admirable team spirit will not suffice and our stay in this prosperous division will be a sojourn one.

Rory Delap could be writing himself into Stoke City folklore

My main consternation, is soon teams will figure out a way to nullify the danger ‘a Delap’ poses (which weaker defences managed to do much earlier in the Championship), meaning Stoke City will run out of ideas, struggle despondently, and Rory Delap, God love him, will be out of a job. ‘A Delap’ therefore, may tragically become a euphemism for an entirely different act, usually done fortnightly down your local job-centre. It is a disturbing notion.

Furthermore, do we really want to get relegated known as a team who came to defend, who were never brave enough to really go for it, relying solely on long throws and set-pieces?  

Not only do I find it rather absurd to assimilate that such tactics can be adopted, in a game which has become so fast and technical, but it just seems so primitive, not to mention, extremely ugly to watch. That it has worked beautifully (!?!) up to now, the fact Greece won the Euros using similar methods, probably means most of you think I’m being extremely negative about the whole thing, yet my cynicism, I assure you, is constructive. And unless people – including Tony Pulis – step out from their comfort zones, we’ll get nowhere (please make me eat my words). 

It’s just so frustrating to watch, as I’m certain we are capable of producing some good football and this negative stifling approach is robbing us of our best opportunity of securing sustained top flight football for quarter of a century.

We don’t have to resort to route-one football, or rely heavily on suffocation tactics, and I do feel we have it in us to be more positive and progressive. We not only display a lack of confidence but we are showing a lack of ambition also. Granted, we haven’t spent the money Hull City have on certain types of players, but a more adventurous style akin to that of the Tigers is what’s needed, as we simply aren’t utilising the attacking players we have at this club.

Not only has record new signing Dave Kitson struggled - starved of any sort of service - but so too has Ricardo Fuller (our chief goal-getter last term) as he just hasn’t been provided with the kind of through-balls we know a man with his skill and pace thrives on. Ball-playing midfielder Glenn Whelan (in the form of his life for Giovanni Trappattoni’s Republic of Ireland) has rarely figured this season and provides yet another stark reminder of our manager’s over-vigilant mentality.

Glenn Whelan has become a firm favourite of Giovanni Trappatoni for Ireland

Having watched the classy Whelan in all his games for the Republic, I am shocked he isn’t a mainstay in this Stoke City team. He has a very bright future in the game and it’s players like him we should be building our team around.

As Pulis prefers to play safe, opting for physical prowess and crunching tacklers; men closer to resembling heavy-weight boxers than Premier League footballers, who attempt to strangle the life from opponents, I cannot help but feel aggrieved somewhat, and soon when all this is over, we will look back on our return to the big time with acrimony and regret. If we are to go down, we have to go down fighting.
 
There used to be a time when Stoke City widened their pitch to accommodate such greats as Sir Stan & Jimmy Greenhoff; Terry Conroy & Mark Chamberlain; and (the legend that was) Peter Hoekstra, enhancing the effectiveness of our magical wingers, which, like the oatcake, were once a staple diet for the people of the Potteries. Now the manager – judiciously it appears - has narrowed its width to maximise the carnage that ‘a Delap’ missile causes. How times have changed!

Sir Stanley Matthews 'Wing Wizard'

A recent pilgrimage to my homeland (or ‘binge’ as it’s also known) not only eliminated all lingering doubt which had surfaced about my year old (exactly to this day) emigration to Ireland, but by becoming the unsuspecting victim of a daunting scally-attack in the gloomy streets of Manchester (somehow managing to escape unscathed!), I learnt something so utterly profound and life-defining that not even a self-help book could have protruded. And somehow, it can be associated with the situation at Stoke City.

In a blink of an eye (or more aptly, the flick of a knife) my life could so easily have ended, which is not only terribly disconcerting (and raises wider issues about the increasing problem of street violence in the UK), but was also responsible for granting me some much needed perspective on a life that was beginning to pass me by.

Thereupon, I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to myself to make the most of my time I have left and to quench every last moment (heck, I may even start this Friday by going along to watch Galway United Vs Cork City despite my reluctance in the past). You see, I want to make the most out of my new surroundings, instead of pining to be in the Britannia, I want to appreciate everything my new environment has to offer me. I’m even lucky enough to get to see Stoke City on the Television this season and I desperately long for this to continue.

Terryland, home of Galway United where I'll be spending Friday night

I’ve begun to realise that life is short and precarious, precious and vital, and in a footballing sense, so is the Premier League. Stoke City may only get one crack at it and I would hate to see their opportunity slip by without them giving it absolutely everything.

By being negative we are cutting off our noses, by lacking adventure we are stifling our chances of survival. Maybe it’s idealism, I’m not so sure, but I want to see us play some football this season. However, if Rory Delap’s supernatural throw keeps us in this marvellous division, thus winning that place in the Oxford dictionary, then who am I to argue. Roll on Sunday.

By Chris Hornsby

The newest question on every Vale fan’s lips is: “who’s next in line for this thankless task?” and the only problem is, according to the local press, it is the two men that nobody, including the board, wants to get the job: Mr. Porter & Mr. Glover.

Martin 'disco pants' Foyle; Port Vale legend

Now I’m not saying that every Vale fan doesn’t adore these two men for what they have done in the past as players but we have been here before people, appointing those we all fell in love with on the terraces (lest we forget our very own ‘Mr. disco pants’ himself Martin Foyle above), albeit someone with little or no management experience or previous success in coaching. And sadly it didn’t work. 

Sadder still, it seems to me that Messrs Glover & Porter would do us no better.

The hardest thing in all of this is that; with the departure of (the gallant) Lee Sinnott still fresh in our minds, after another demoralizing loss away to Gillingham on Saturday, and let’s not forget our bitter enemy sneering at us from the dizzy-heights of the Premiership, we are back to square one.

Rory Delap's misiles heap more misery on The Vale

As was the case a few years ago, again we have no manager, no confidence from the fans that this will be a decent season, and a squad of players that look far too young and inexperienced to even be considered capable of kicking ourselves out from League 2 obscurity. Not in the direction we were hoping in any case. 

Obviously, I don’t mean every player, but 90% in my opinion just don’t measure up!!!!

Has this season been lost already? I’m not entirely sure. Unfortunately Mr. Sinnott did have to go, as I am sure everybody will agree, though I was sorry to see this happen. Nevertheless, after a 4-1 humiliating home defeat against a team which many now consider our nearest local rivals (Macclesfield Town for those of you who weren’t sure) and the subsequent volatile fans protests to the board that followed the game, then I am afraid that the writing was on the wall for Mr. Sinnott. 

Sinnott turned sour after early promise for Vale

He seemed a man of great integrity; a man with admirable ambition, and his talk of fighting our way out from the depths of this division certainly fitted the criteria for what this club really needed. Then on those many occasions during the games we found ourselves trailing against so-called lesser sides, he was never found jumping up and down on the touchline as you might’ve expected, but instead; sitting listlessly in the dugout, arms folded, with the weary look of a lost man, seemingly out of his depth.

Now with the latest board statement confirming that the club cannot afford to bring in a manager from the (scary) outside, then we are back to our first question: who’s next for this presumably thankless task?

With only 1 win in 4 home games and an average of a point a game from 7 thus far, who can rescue our season and be our saviour? As most of you who neither know nor care, I ask myself, who indeed?

My beloved Vale Park

As I await the answer to be revealed and I hope and pray for 3 points from somewhere, all I can do is do as I’ve always done; shut my eyes, raise my arms and give one more resounding battle cry: COME ON VALE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

            “…Baby seems like everywhere I go I see you

              From your eyes, your smile, it’s like I breathe you

              Helplessly, I reminisce, don’t want to

              Compare nobody to you”

Chapter One - he sets the scene

Beyonce’s lovely song continues with the line “your sexiness is so appealing, I can’t let it go, Oh!” so I’ll stop there for now. But, you get the gist - this is another article about repeats.

It’s the first weekend of the Premier League season and everyone’s in high spirits. Months of build-up, new shirts bought, new players bought by some lucky teams too, fantasy football teams picked - it could have been any year, really. And, the action didn’t disappoint…

Well, actually it did.

Rewind back a week and the football league had got off to a flyer. The Charity, sorry Community Shield, was apparently a damp squib but hey, the real stuff was yet to begin, so we’ll forgive the Wembley showpiece yet again.

Two days before the official start to our campaign, and we’re sat in a nice city centre restaurant. Devotees of my scribings will recall last year’s meeting with Xabi Alonso, and me drunkenly telling him that I “fucking hated him but loved him at the same time” - it was my birthday, forgive me. Anyway, fast forward nearly a year and just as my better half and I were tucking in to our antipasti who should turn up to sit at the next table but the self-same Spaniard, this time with a strange Scouse companion in tow.

Xabi Alonso - Liverpool & Spain

I was determined to stay cool, infact, act oblivious, and managed it just about. Even when Andrei Voronin and Damien Plessis walked (separately) past the restaurant window, the latter popping in to say hello, I was able to enjoy a fantastic veal steak with the minimum of fuss. I was almost revelling in the previous evening’s result, a surprising draw in Liege. Now another ‘been there, done that’ moment had even occurred during that match when my flatmate and I agreed that we already knew what was going to happen, such is Liverpool’s propensity for lucky escapes - and, I can predict many comments already on their way to me about bitterness which I’ve received before.

Chapter 2 - he delves deeper

Anyway, the whole scenario made me smile, and got me thinking - 

             “…When I saw you walking past me, I almost called your name

              Got a better glimpse and then I looked away

             It’s like I’m losing it”

Because I wondered, did Xabi remember me? I’ve spotted him at least a dozen times since he joined Liverpool, on the streets of Kenny - well, Marks & Spencer and Bold Street anyway. Sure, he must get loads of fans coming up to him saying they either love or hate him, many far more memorable than my self, but this was just too coincidental (it was indeed a kwinkidink as a ghost from the past used to say) to let it pass without comment.

In case you’re wondering, I just about behaved myself, in fact my good lady said I’d gone some way to redeeming myself, having asked the (albeit arrogant) mystery guest to apologise on my behalf for past misdemeanours, once Alonso was out of earshot.

Meeting players is always strange, I’ve written of it before. And, the following Saturday I continued my own (slightly childish I know) tradition of getting my programme signed by the Everton team before the first game of the season. Many of last year’s sentiments were echoed this time around - envy and embarrassment among them - only this time they were heightened by the paucity of our squad allowing several teenagers on to the bench. I can only imagine what Kieran Agard and Dan Gosling thought of having to scribble their name (and squad number, just to make sure) on the glossy pages that belonged to a greying teacher at least ten years their senior.

Still, the excitement of the first game meant that the teamsheet mattered little, and despite a few misplaced passes, Jack Rodwell performed well against Blackburn. The exotically named Jose Baxter made a cameo appearance that was even more exciting, only a few inches stopped him from winning it for the Blues. His physical appearance and speed actually remind me of Michael Branch, I hope his career does not go the same way of course, but either way it should not be up to two young men young enough to be sat in my classroom only twelve months ago, to give Everton a good start to the season, and Mikel weaved some magic to almost grab victory from the jaws of defeat after a terrible first half.

Again, this suggested a glitch in the matrix - so many times the Blues have rescued points in dramatic circumstances and cued delirious celebrations in and around my area of the Gwladys Street End and although we never bore of it, Saturday did feel like that again when the Yak was fed - by the way, I don’t like the song, it’s just more appropriate than likening him to an overweight version of a local homosexual boogyman paedophile as some fans are wont to. Anyway, all this happened just minutes after it looked likely that Neville Southall could wander out at half time and sit despondently against a post…

But it wasn’t to be and alas, neither was a surprising victory, because another familiar feeling consumed me when Blackburn went up the other end and equalised before a last kick of the game winner by the even more exotically named Ooijer.

Andre Ooijer - Blackburn & Holland

Chapter 3 - he summises

A couple of hours later, lo and behold, Torres pops up to save an under-par Liverpool from a poor showing up in Sunderland. He really is an amazing player, I’ve said it before and will again…

            “…Is he the best ever, that’s the argu-a-ment

              I don’t make the list, don’t be mad at me

              I just make the hits, like a factory”

And what a pleasant surprise, Alonso popping up with a sublime assist, and another effort from his own half. What we’d do for a player of a similar ilk at Goodison at the minute - but given some dodgy comments I’ve recently read about his form over the past 12 months (since the incident at the Malmaison?), maybe seeing me inspired him this time?

Let me know, Xabi lad. Anyway, to underline my paranoia even more, further events on the fixture calendar last weekend created a sense of deja-vu too. Arsenal, playing some great stuff but trying to walk it in and only getting a 1-0. Chelsea, looking awesome at times, with a charismatic Portuguese remonstrating wildly on the sidelines. Tottenham, anti-climaxing. Perhaps the only surprise of the weekend was Manchester United’s lacklustre performance against Newcastle, though Rooney’s wild challenges must have shocked few of us.

So there we have it, the first weekend, seen most of it before, and what I hope to be my final encounter with the talented Spaniel, who I’ve definitely seen enough of. I’ve told you before what happened to me in a previous encounter with the Spaniel by the lake - my mate Xabi clearly likes me too much to do something similar. Though, the derby is coming up…

Chapter 4 - he backtracks

And that was meant to be the end of the article.

Except, after finishing it and carefully choosing appropriate images to illustrate my ramblings, I settled down to watch ‘The Golden Vision’ not really knowing what to expect. Well, I say that, but having seen two of Ken Loach’s previous offerings and fallen in love with Cathy Come Home and Kes, I suppose I kind of did.

Ken Loach - Writer & Director

It didn’t disappoint. The songs, the scenery, the characters, the intimate interviews with Alex Young about to train a group of school kids, or Ray Wilson smoking his way down to Arsenal away - Jimmy you were right, those did seem the days.

And you know what - Saturday was forgotten. What’s our name? EVERTON. And I’m glad it is. The golden vision wasn’t just a beautiful, blistered footballer, it was also the name of a beautiful play, that sums up what a lot of people live for, it is 70 minutes that all football fan should watch, regardless of who you support. Yes, I’d heard a lot of the songs before, and of course, seen some of the caricatures, not just at the match but on the streets of Liverpool, but it also presented the passion of the fans and the people of this city that rejuvenated my faith in the school of science, and made me long for a week on Saturday. Forget last minute defeats or backroom wranglings. Who knows, it may be a golden oldie instead of a recurring nightmare.

            “…Know that I can’t get over you

              ‘cause everything I see is you

              And I don’t want no substitute

              Baby I swear it’s déjà vu.”

Xabi’s at the door, I’ve got to go now.

Picture the scene, a sportswear superstore housed in what used to be the Heaven ‘n’ Hell nightclub I used to frequent, 20ft high on Blackpool promenade. 

   “Are you sure you don’t want this one, lad?” The bald Geordie bloke asked, cheekily. He held up the new Liverpool away shirt, before wandering off to buy another pair of England leisure shorts.
   “Ha, no you’re alright thanks mate (fuck off)” I retorted, wanting to make the 1=20 sign to him, knowing he wouldn’t understand anyway.

And so it was that a twenty one year tradition continued, and I got another new Everton shirt.

It’s been a while dear readers, and much has happened since my last heartfelt mutterings were submitted for your consideration. Both personally and vis-à-vis the football world, things have changed, and although certain aspects of this boy’s life look more rosy now, the murky world of L4 4EL is not quite so positive at present.

Everton's only summer signing

The only new addition is a funnily-named assistant coach Steve Round (pictured above), whilst our tubby Chief Exec and several players have departed, the three non-hairy ones and two of the hairier ones strangely. Anyway, rumours persist that signings are imminent and despite the ground move being discussed and delayed ad nauseum, the new season at least offers intrigue and some excitement.

Much will be written about the upcoming season, I’ve decided instead to update you on my summer and to discuss in depth another of my first loves – the football kit.

The Euros seem long ago now, some great football was played there though not by my chosen team Italy, more on which later. In fact, let’s start now, I bought the smart Italy shirt on ebay to show my loyalty to the Azzurri. Even though it was a realistic enough fake, I was glad not to have spent the full amount as they were largely disappointing save a much-needed performance against France. Overall it was a great tournament and the wallchart and sticker album were certainly kept busy.

My team during Euro 2008 - the Azzurri

I wore the shirt (to some funny looks) on my jaunt to the peninsula. What a week myself and Mrs Morrissey had, food and wine like nothing else and some amazing sights – beautiful landscapes, bright sunshine, tortoises having aggressive sex in a restaurant garden that sort of thing – I even visited the PisaCalcio stadium which was a disappointment save for the interesting graffiti around it. The lifestyle there is so incredible, those of you lucky enough to have visited will know what I mean, and it’s totally understandable that whatever his lifestyle preferences, Ronaldinho made the right choice of Milan over Manchester.

Manchester or Milan?

Whilst away, only one little thing got to me, the sight of a small ginger haired boy wearing last season’s Liverpool shirt (the Meff) under the Tuscan sun. It got me thinking – how can a piece of polyester have such an effect on the eyes, the brain, the heart?

In his excellent book True Colours, author John Devlin goes to great lengths to dissect how a shirt design can be an extension of a club’s spirit and how a simple strip can express confidence, arrogance, strength and the like. I’ve never thought that, I just really like them and what they stand for.

Blue & White colours of Argentina will forever be synonymous with Maradona & Mexico '86'

When we were younger, Summer holidays seemed to last forever. As a teacher they seem to do the exact opposite but that’s a whole other article. However, I recall one of the highlights being our father taking me and my sister to Blackpool one day on the bus and the tradition was to buy us one toy each. In 1987, it was different, and I distinctly recall the pride of seeing the stallholder in Pricebusters (under the tower, in fact under the location of this story’s prologue too) bringing down the blue Everton shirt I had always wanted. My sister got some Barbie accessory I think, and for me (not her thankfully) it was the start of a long, expensive and at times embarrassing love affair.

Most of you will have a favourite football shirt, either of your own club or even a rival. Many will be favoured for the memories it evokes, some for the sheer aesthetic quality, the colours or the material, those with unusual senses of humour might also have funny anecdotes about said shirt – Man Utd changing at half time,  Celtic having numbers on the shorts only, things like that.

Numbers on shorts made famous by Glasgow Celtic in the 1950's & 60's

Most of the shirts I’ve had have been Everton admittedly, looking back some horrific designs (and memories) but still much loved because of what they represented.  Names and numbers are quite a recent innovation but can still help with identification – either of the shirt or with it. Days out are often punctuated or exacerbated by the spot the shirt competition, you’ll always get the Man Utd or Liverpool staples, but I still get excited by a proud youngster (or even better, whole family) wearing some obscure abomination from a small town club.

As we grew up, it became de rigeur to sport an unusual foreign shirt. All I want for Christmas isn’t necessarily a Dukla Prague away kit, but I have worn Russia, Barcelona, Parma, Holland, Chevas USA shirts in my life time, aswell as a few of those cheap imitation shirts sold on market stalls abroad (Czech Republic (no name), Italy (Toni), Inter (Materazzi), Real (Figo) amongst others) and it’s clear to see that football shirts have had a huge presence in my wardrobe.

As a teenager I even used to sit on a Friday night designing kits for different teams. I remember being envious of a fellow youngster who won a competition in match to design Melchester Rovers’ new strip, and marvelling at a contestant on You Bet who correctly identified twenty sections of shirts in the time limit. I once sent my designs to Umbro who very kindly returned them, annotated, with praise and genuine interest in my ideas. My dream job is no longer a reality, however every summer a personal highlight isn’t just the trip to Blackpool, but the scouring of websites and magazine adverts to see the new strip for any team.

This year, Preston have gone traditional which is nice to see (I forgot to mention I took my good lady to the pre-season friendly, some good youngsters coming through, shame about our fans though) and Wigan have made the strange decision to go with Champion, who as far as I know haven’t done a strip before. Carlisle will always be remembered for the deckchair kit, whilst Blackburn’s only interesting addition is a new sponsor, Crown Paints.  Which brings us back to the beginning, and Liverpool’s decision to go back in time with the grey strip of circa 1990, maybe they think it will offer a return to the glory days, even if Arsenal have also resurrected the 1989 away kit (Mickey Thomas… can he FFINNIIISSSHHH!!!!!!) 

 In terms of our new kit, in true Everton style the launch of the home kit was delayed (maybe this was the final nail in Wyness’s coffin) and is a nice if unspectacular combination. The away is white once again (amber must be due a return soon) but is a particularly smart design and, more importantly, goes with my new trainers. Said girlfriend who knew how much I was looking forward to its release, and duly bought it for me on our day out in Blackpool. Even if lots has been said about men in football shirts having no taste, regardless of the baldy’s comments or the sales assistant admitting that even though she was a Blue, this was the first she had sold so far, I was in love again. Now – when is the third shirt out?

Have a good season – may everything be beautiful and nothing hurt (including the shirts)

A few months ago I wrote an article (croatia article) expressing my concerns about the direction of English International football & fears I had going into that game against Croatia. I also mentioned that prior to the defeat by Bilic’s chequered men, I was met by gut-wrenching reservations similar to ones I had experienced in 1994, when England failed to reach USA 94 under Graham Taylor.

I’m a little too young to remember when England last failed to reach the Euro championships (1984 was the last time; degradation a certain Norwegein commentator’s now legendary “Maggie Thatcher..” - seen above - rant won’t let us forget in a hurry!), meaning ‘USA 94′ was the only other time I’ve experienced something similar (me being a patron of such a colossus in the football world!). And what does USA 94 & Euro 2008 have in common? Well for me, they have both proved to be more gratifying tournaments in Ingerland’s absence. And just before nationalists, meatheads & the like, get their St George’s Y-fronts in a twist & disembowel me metaphorically, hear me out:

- I have been able to relax & enjoy football purely for the entertainment value. No emotional attachment, no lofty unrealistic hopes, no sleepless nights, & no agonising defeats at the hands of the Germans via a crushing penalty shoot-out!

- Like USA 94 (though I was 13 back then), I have been able to concentrate on scouting for players in my imaginary world where I’m the manager of the team I support & buy in players to fit the system I have created, annoying the missus by scribbling this team on the back of any scrap of paper I can find around the flat; thus confirming how incredibly childish & idyllic my thoughts still remain after all these years!

- I’ve seen no scenes of English yobs scrapping/rioting either abroad or in our local pubs, therefore saving us all from the shameful, self-defeating violence & yobs tarnishing the flag for the umpteenth time; for a few more years at least.

- And lastly, we can take a long hard look at the direction we are going in & take notes/lessons from the free-flowing, high tempo football we’ve witnessed at this tournament & move with the times. With failure comes lessons that we have to learn, with failure has to come a chemical reaction to improve & make sure we don’t make the same mistakes again. As so often is the case, this can often be the catalyst for success. Capiche? (Oh & PL clubs can buy up all the best players of the tournament which helps!)
 
After USA 94 & in the post-Turnip era, England reacted by importing shed loads of classy foreigners into our domestic league, which strangely corresponded with the birth of the Premiership, which in retrospect rejuvenated English football at that time. We learnt so much from players such as Klinsman, Ravenelli, Gicá Popescu, Di Matteo, Dan Petrescu, Ziege & Branco(Brazilian with thunderbolt left peg who spent a season with Boro- or rather 9 games to be more precise). We then went on to go within a whisker of battering everyone at Euro 96 (who will ever forget that 4-1 victory against the Dutch? Watch below for those who drank too much!) & responsible for reinvigorating a nation seemingly on brink of losing its affection for the game she invented.

All this poppycock about foreigners ruining the English game is a load of pish. Ask McManaman,  ‘Shaggy‘ Anderton & Sheringham if foreign imports harmed their developement. We just use this as an excuse for our failings. Get Silva, Villa, Arshavin, Modric et al into the Premier League & it will invariably improve our countries chances of qualification & ultimately being victorious at World Cup 2010; end of. And the man with the umbrella has to be aiming for this. As my good friend Eric has already brought to the table, we have to emulate the football Hiddink& Holland are producing, move swiftly & adapt. But for now, he’s something to cheer all England fans up (who’s the skinny bloke in the suit with the dodgy tash?):

Life is all about reacting to scenarios & failings. Life is about accommodating a new set of circumstances; adapting once things don’t go as we might’ve planned. And life is about chemistry & reactions.

Allow me to elaborate further…

An old article that my friend Eric Utheim penned earlier this year (Same winner) suggested that winning the Champion’s League has become predictable, & the days of Ajax, Red Star Belgrade, Steaua Bucharest & Nottingham Forest winning Europe’s most prestigious trophy is a thing of the past. I beg to differ.

If all the components/elements are in place & players/managers react in the correct manner, anything is possible. Look at Greece last time around, Turkey’s achievements this time, but more aptly look at Hiddink’s Ruskies. Only one player in Russia’s squad plays outside Russia & despite Zenit St. Petersburg hinting massively at Russia’s potential in last season’s Uefa Cup, no one in the so-called savvy British media identified them as dark horses even, never mind contenders. I know Dunphy, Brady & Giles (RtéTwo) can be v.annoying at times, but even their contentious, never-in-the-wrong drivel is better entertainment than the smug, sit-on-the-fence, dial-a-cliché bores that line-up on the English gravy train! It just goes to show, regardless of the money & popular opinion, that if all the elements are in place; such as the right manager is appointed, who in-turn installs the correct tactics, & with all his players on top of their games & gelling together; then magic can happen.

Hiddink’s success will not only have England selectors kicking themselves, but Chelsea hierarchy also. Honestly, has Big Phil Scolari really done enough to warrant the praise he’s received from the world’s press? I mean, he’s never even managed a European club team & only has club experience in Brazil! His nearly man CV hardly has other PL clubs green with envy. In this environment, he is nothing short of an unknown quantity. He’s not a leader of men. He’s not a revolutionary. He’s not Gus Hiddink.

A few months back, I was over in Liverpool meeting up with friends. As we gathered for afternoon pints in the charming ‘Ye Cracke’ pub off Hope St. something profound dawned on me. The Guinness was flowing & the craic was indeed mighty. And I was surrounded by all of the friends I love, fellas I’d met at different periods of my life, all unique & all equally fantastic in their own delightful way. Each friend’s idiosyncrasies were obvious. Our differences were there for all to see & the group dynamics were as diverse as they could’ve been; yet everyone gelled perfectly, sparks flew & we all got on famously. That stolen afternoon in Liverpool – you know the one lads – for me was what life is all about & why it is such a wonderful gift. And it’s all about the chemistry.

Normally, merely mentioning the word ’science’ has me heading for the nearest exit, yet recently, I’m starting to think that life is made up of little else. Good things usually occur from shit situations. Look at USA in ‘94’, when Leonardo (whom along with Romario, was Brazil’s player of the tournament) was suspended for his infamous elbow on Tab Ramos of the USA (seen above). His replacement; Branco, came in & scored the winner in their ¼ final against a Bergkamp-inspired Holland, winning 3-2. Branco would later go onto score a crucial penalty in the WC Final’s shootout against Italy as Brazil lifted the World trophy for the 1st time in 24 years. Life is made up of decisive decisions at crucial moments & these shape our future. Football is no different. What if Chelsea hadn’t signed ‘la Sulk’ (Anelka)? What if Steven Taylor hadn’t committed that horrendous tackle on Eduardo? Drogba wasn’t sent-off against United? And what if United hadn’t defeated Chelsea in the CL final? (I’m certain Ronaldo would’ve stayed, but now he’s won literally everything there is to win, then I’m now certain he’ll leave – at some point.)

Things could've been different for Arsenal but for Eduardo's leg break

And what if Russia hadn’t lost 4-1 against Spain? Would they be in the semis?

Despite originally rooting for the perennial underachievers - them being the Spanish - to win the Euros, & how I never fail to be impressed by the sheer efficiency of the Germans; I think Russia deserve to win it now, so that we all learn a very valuable lesson. Football is changing & Gus is reminding us all (As Eric so eloquently said so in the previous post!), that anything is possible with skillful, fast & energetic players. And Spain has to be very wary of the wounded tiger or Ruskie as it is in this case.

I’ve just returned from a very enjoyable stay in the metropolis that is London (I’m saving that story for my next post by the way!) & I am starting to realise an important lesson about geting things wrong myself. Things may not always be as they once seemed & hopefully the English coaches involved in the future of our game see things in a similar light. In summery, in England’s absence - like in ‘USA 94 ’ - free from ulterior motives, emotional constraints, vested interests & sure bets (though I did attempt to enter The Metro’s fantasy league that unceremoniously collapsed after game 3!), I have had the opportunity to take an objective look at the great game & International football on the whole. And as an Englishman this is extremely necessary, especially in light of England’s latest failings.

What I’ve been trying to get at is that football, like life, is unpredictable. A series of random events with reactions, which if you get right brings about success. Moreover, great things can be created from adversity, success stories out of general shitness. Take the Irish Literary movement of the early-mid 20th century, the Manchester music phenomenon of the late 80’s & early 90’s, Wayne Rooney, & quite possibly Hiddink’s Russia in 2008.

From where I am standing, there is only one thing worse than mindless football violence & that is complacency. England are not in a position to become complacent, so therefore have the perfect opportunity to learn a valuable lesson from their omission from Euro 2008. As they did in the aftermath of USA 94, like then, England now have an opportunity to react accordingly. Also, like Sheringham, Shearer & Anderton before them, English players can learn a lot from the foreign imports that will inevitably follow these Championships. And this tournament akin to USA 94 can only have a positive effect/reaction on English football.

Untill next time…

Remember, if you wish to join in with this discussion, or just want to leave a comment, you need to be signed-in; or else complete our simple registration process to become an EFP member.

 Click here to Register                                                    Login 

Tomorrow the semis of the best international tournament since Mexico 1986 starts.

EURO2008 has been a tremendous success. The entertainment has been excellent. Brilliant goals, new stars has appeared, and late, late drama. The Euros has had it all.

But first and foremost EURO2008 has shown the way forward for football. It has shown what the future will bring.

It is quite simply the start of a new era.

Mobility, speed and stamina.

Those are the key words. Those are the main components that herald the future of the beautiful game.

And no one is a better example of this, and few teams are more beautiful, than Guus Hiddink’s Russia.(pictured above)

Brian Barwick must be kicking himself. What if England had appointed the Dutchman after Sven Göran Eriksson left in 2006, instead of plumping for that man with the umbrella?

Hiddink’s philosophy is the way forward for modern football. It is a way that doesn’t consist of rigid formations and set patterns. It is a philosophy that is based on quick players, all capable of beating opponents. It is based on mobility, where players change positions all the time. It is also based on stamina. The workaholic Russian midfielders and full backs quite simply run their opponents into the ground.

It is total football reinvented.

And indeed, Hiddink’s home nation, the inventors of total football, are another example of the new virtues that will dominate modern football.

Holland were breathtaking in the group stages. Van der Vaart, Sneijder, Van Nistelrooy, Van Persie and Robben’s technique, pace and slick passing tore the last World Cup’s finalists apart. And Engelaar, De Jong and Kuyt’s hard work enabled them to do so. It was fantastic football, performed by athletes that combined those three main assets that will be at the core of football in the future: Mobility, speed and stamina.

Jaime Carragher teased his Spanish Liverpool team mates ahead of the Euros, saying that they lacked the physique and pace of the French.

Carragher was right in pointing to how important physique and pace are in modern football. But he forgot that speed is not only about how quick a player runs, it is also about how quick the ball moves.

And the Spanish have excelled in this compartment. Yes, with exception of Torres, defensive midfielder Senna and the defenders, Spain lacks height and strength. But the slight frames of Silva, Villa, Iniesta, Xavi and Fabregas have the ability to move the ball around with such crisp precision and quickness, that opponents are torn apart. This is where Portugal failed against the Germans. Despite possessing world class ball players, they dwelled to long, taking too many touches, and becoming too static. 

Manchester United showed a lot of the same as the Russians, the Dutch and the Spanish have done in the Euros, in their title winning campaign last season. The way Rooney, Ronaldo, Tevez and Park changed positions, the way all their front players are capable of beating opponents, the way all their players have quick feet capable of finding team mates with passes from the most tight angles and positions, the way full back Patrice Evra covers every blade of grass on his side.

That workaholic approach is the key to the free flowing, free moving modern football. In a world without rigid formations and structures, balancing deep midfielders (Senna, Engelaar, Zyryanov), and the work ethic of the team are crucial. The Russians have proved this. When the Dutch where running on empty in the quarter final – despite resting their entire starting eleven in the last group game – Arshavin, Zhirkov, Torbinsky and the other Russians were still running around as if the game had just started. It has been the same with Hiddink’s previous teams. Remember how hard the Koreans worked at the World Cup in 2002? Up and down, up and down, all the time.

That enthusiasm and movement is crucial. That was lacking for England at the last World Cup. The English players were moving around at pedestrian pace. The Germans, despite having a worse team player for player, showed how it should be done. Klinsmann’s Germany of 2006 reached the semi finals with their enthusiastic, eager and run-until-you-drop style. Now Joachim Low’s 2008 outfit has done the same.

Movement, how fast the ball travels and how disciplined and hard working the players are, those are the main components of modern football.

Hiddink has understood this. And he is the real star of EURO 2008. In a time where we have plenty of spectacular and entreating players, but no one that rises above the rest and clearly are the best player in the world (like Platini, Maradona and Zidane were), we can at least say who is the best national team coach in the world.

He is Guus Hiddink, the man England missed out on.

I’ll round of by selecting my all star XI of Euro 2008 so far. Do you agree?

Top of the Tops:

Goalkeeper: Artur Boruc (Poland)

The Celtic goalie was immense in the group stages. Poland would have been embarrassed without him.

Right back: Sergio Ramos (Spain)

Has often been criticised for neglecting his defensive duties, but so far the Real Madrid heart throb has excelled both defensively and when he has joined the attack.

Left back: Yuri Zhirkov (Russia)

The revelation of the tournament, alongside his team-mate Arshavin. Why is this fella at CSKA Moscow, and not playing for one of the big guns in Western Europe? Fantastic physique and stamina and a deadly left foot. The Russian Roberto Carlos. Bombs up and down the left flank. 

Centre half: Per Mertesacker (Germany)

Good in the air. Lacks pace, but has yet to be caught out. Has hardly put a foot wrong.

Centre half: Pepe (Portugal)

The Real Madrid man was excellent in the group stages.

Midfield: Konstantin Zyryanov (Russia)

Fantastic against the Swedes, not so dominant against Holland. But his calming presence, and his combination of grit and guile makes him crucial for Guus Hiddink’s team.

Midfield: Wesley Sneijder (Holland)

The best player of the tournament in the group stages. Fantastic movement, brilliant ball control and shoots equally well with both feet.

Midfield: Michael Ballack (Germany)

Was Chelsea’s best player in the league run in, and has continued his good form in the Euros. Has the ability to rise to the occasion.

Attacker: Andrei Arshavin (Russia)

The star of the tournament. Quick feet, a nose for goal and pace to burn. Will surely join one of Europe’s elite clubs after the summer.

Attacker: David Villa (Spain)

The tournament’s top scorer so far. He will probably be so after the final as well. Good movement, a stinging shot and the ability to be on the right place at the right time.

Attacker: Luka Modric (Croatia)

Nicknamed “Little Cruyff”. He wears Cruyff’s old shirt number (14), and even looks like the old Dutch maestro. He plays like him too. Tottenham fans must be rubbing their hands with glee at the thought of watching this brilliant little footballer at the Lane next season.

My Team of Euro 2008 

Remember, if you wish to join in with this discussion, or just want to leave a comment, you need to be signed-in; or else complete our simple registration process to become an EFP member.

 Click here to Register                                                    Login 

It’s been two months since I last wrote you a letter. At the start of the season, I promised you drama of Hitchcockian proportion, and to an extent that prophecy has come true during that time.

I have just returned from a visit to Paris, the city of light, where I marvelled at the Mona Lisa, Oscar Wilde’s grave, and the plight of begging women with fake babies and distraught-looking men selling Eiffel Tower keyrings at 3 for one euro. And I was enlightened.

As with any holiday I guess, there is the danger of anti-climax, of expecting too much - of putting Nil Satis Nisi Optimum (or more aptly, given the 40th anniversary of the Paris student riots of ’68, Soyez Realistes, Demandez L’Impossible) above reality’s bites. The holiday though, represented the season, from Everton’s and my own points of view. How can this be? As Mr Grossman used to say, when we all watched Through the Keyhole agape at this weirdo’s drawl, let’s look at the evidence.

It was Everton’s best season for twenty years! Highest points total ever in the Premiership! Scintillating stuff played at times too, with one sublime performance resulting in them being likened to none other than Keats, and Moyes, lauded by James Lawton as the best young manager in Britain. However, lest we forget, we also missed out on the holy grail of fourth, were knocked out of Europe on penalties, having beaten the eventual winners, were defeated at home by Oldham (some still blame the chippy fire) and lost another semi-final to a not-very-good Chelsea team.

What I mean is that the Sunderland victory was like standing in front of La Joconde, something I’ve always wanted to see. As Ricky Fitts, the plastic bag filming freak in American Beauty said, ‘sometimes, there’s so much beauty in the world, I feel like my heart can’t take it’. I’ll be honest, that afternoon in the Louvre was like nothing else I’ve ever felt, but back in November the 7-1 win was the best victory I’ve witnessed from the Gwladys Street…

Similarly, our visit to Pere Lachaise cemetery, primarily to see the grave of Edith Piaf, was a bit like the Fiorentina match. To make such a link might seem strange, but let me explain. Spending two hours wandering around a load of graves in the rain won’t be many people’s idea of a good time, but neither would clawing back a two goal deficit before losing on penalties. However, that evening at Goodison was perhaps the most satisfying moment of the season, particularly after Arteta’s goal when the ground was literally bouncing. We don’t get many magical European nights, in fact I’d imagine other teams will soon get bored of special atmospheres if it doesn’t lead anywhere, but I felt such pride and so little disappointment exiting the UEFA Cup that I realised I was a changing man, I’d learned how to handle failure and ‘death’ and ultimately, celebrate it.

There were nice surprises along the way too, Steven Pienaar and Leon Osman’s flashes of brilliance, Phil Jagielka’s improvement, the group stages performances… whilst in Paris, the view from the roof of Galeries Lafayette, an amazing Armagnac elevenses, a thriving street market ran by Maghrebins – the list goes on.

Incase we need any more alignment of the trip away and 2007-8, we even bumped in to Everton’s fitness coach outside the Louvre whom I watch warming the team up every game.

And, just like our season, the holiday ended on a high with a trip up the Eiffel Tower, when we won the league within the Premier League and can look forward to more trips away with excitement. See what I did there?

Don’t get me wrong, I did have such high hopes at one point that I felt small pangs of regret that we limped across the finishing line on a wet day in May when, with a bit more luck, we might have been gathering cups like the other shower used to. And, there were minor disappointments in Paris – a slightly overcooked steak, not finding the Rue Des Trois Freres, getting soaked on an open top tour bus, breaking the hotel room safe, and a still ill girlfriend – but expectations were not set so high that this was a let down. Far from it, the new me has managed to take the good bits and concentrate on the positives. I wrote a while ago about smiling on the way out of the Clattenberg derby, I was also thankful that I missed the Oldham game to go the theatre inst