Landon Donovan: substance or spin?

Like trips to the cinema and popcorn, like fish and chips, like JR and Sue Ellen, Everton and Landon Donovan just kind of go together well.

Why though?

What the fuck has a Californian with a big fod got in common with a football club in the Merseyside heartland of Walton? There was absolutely nothing to suggest that the loan deal of Landon Donovan from LA Galaxy to Everton in January 2009 would be anything more than a couple of fleeting substitute appearances that at best would sell us a few more shirts in the USA.

But ohhhhh nooooo, Landon and EFC became like Jack Daniels and Coke. They just clicked.

Donovan got off the plane at Heathrow and basically got straight on the pitch across London at the monolithic Emirates Stadium, home of Premier title chasing Arsenal. He announced his arrival with a delightful delivery which was met by the diminutive Leon Osman as Everton dominated the game and were robbed of victory with two deflected Arsenal goals. 2-2.

After that, Landon made his home debut against the oil rich Arab owned Manchester City, a side playing fantasy football with the best players in the world and convinced they were entitled to a run at the title - or Champions League qualification at the very least. Everton completely played Citeh off the park winning 2-0 (should've been more) and Donovan put in a good solid display and the 'American players are shit' brigade began to re-examine their pre-conceptions.

After that, Donovan saw some sobering lows (Birmingham in the FA Cup and a scratchy, ugly defeat across the Park) but some scintillating highs (Goodison defeats of Chelsea and Man Utd, a rousing home farewell and sign off goal in the 5-1 hammering of hapless Hull and the emotional goodbye at St.Andrews) but the overall feeling from his time at Everton was overwhelmingly positive.

There's a few reasons for this I think.

Landon offered us something we've desperately needed for some years now...attacking pace to burn and direct running down the right flank. He showed a passion, desire and will to win that every fan can associate with. He did our precious number 9 shirt proud, albeit in an unfamiliar part of the pitch for the Everton 9 to be plying his trade. The short-lived love affair between the LA boy and EFC wasn't just about his ability on the field though because I'm sure there are more technically gifted attacking right-sided players on the planet right now.

He seemed to always say the right thing. From his first press conference to his final Facebook status update when he was sitting in Heathrow departures, the soundbite or quote was always on the mark. Tony Blair's PR spin machine would've been proud.

Which brings me to my only nagging doubt.

Landon Donovan. Everton FC icon and legend in the making, blue blood and never forgotten until he returns someday?

Or fucking excellent politician?

80's Hooliganism - A Shithouse Standpoint

We're playing West Ham at Goodison in a couple of days. I know that the current crop of Hammers 'boys' haven't quite got the reputation of their ICF peers of the 1980's (mostly blokes now who've got mortgages and drive Mondeo's) but thinking of West Ham got me remembering a few of my scariest escapades supporting the blues through the dark days of early eighties football hooliganism.

It was about 1983 and I was standing in the terraced paddock right in the shadow of the main stand not too far from the old Park End - the days when it housed the away fans behind the goal and was about three feet wide. We were 2-0 up with about five minutes to go and I suddenly became aware that the crowd around me was dissolving. I looked around wondering WTF was going on and looked to my right. Everton had opened the gates ready for the final whistle and about half a dozen ICF had decided to have a wander into an Everton part of the ground and were steadily walking towards me, a 16 year old shithouse who was beginning to rapidly become isolated! They were doing these 'come on, let's fakkin' 'ave it!' motions with their hands and all looked ready to leave a calling card or two on the nearest Scouser. Which at this very moment was me. They started to go into a kind of pincer movement and began to speed up towards me as I suddenly thought 'Oh bollocks! Gotta go here!' - and as I turned to join the rest of the quickly retreating crowd one of them produced a blade which flashed under the floodlights. I saw my pretty boy, New Romantic looks disappearing fearing I would never look like Simon Le Bon when from nowhere three hefty coppers pounced on them and a bit of a ruck started which resulted ultimately in them being escorted from the stadium by the local constabulary.

The only other occasions I ever felt that I needed to genuinely fear for my existence happened in Manchester. Three times.

A night match at Maine Road, home of Manchester City was something to behold. A walk through the edges of Moss Side, gun and drug capital of the north-west and through a maze of little terraced streets offering a multiude of hiding places and ambush points. We got legged all over those streets after a game one night, they never caught us though the dirty Manc scumbags. Then there was a visit to Old Trafford sometime in the early nineties. We were given a police escort from the station to the ground and talk about the gauntlet of hate. They bottled us, threw piss at us, spat at us, threatened to cut our throats...and that was just the police! And then the time I was at Picadilly in Manchester after a game at Old Trafford waiting for the train on my own and got approached by three Manc lads clearly desperate to give any Everton fan at all a slap or three. They asked me who I supported and I managed to answer in a decent enough Manchester accent 'A dornt like footah' and they had a bit of a debate about whether or not to give me a kickin' and finally decided not to. I was working in Manchester at the time so had the accent down ok luckily.

I know these accounts all involve me avoiding getting me face slashed or my head kicked in and I'd love to be able to tell you all about how I led a firm of ten lads and chased Tottenham all over London - but I'd be lying wouldn't I?

Everton did have some serious players around that time though and you can read all about it in the absolute classic book 'Scally' by Andy Nicholls.

Manchester City Anagram: Catty Rich Semen. How Appropriate...

When I was younger, I used to tell people that Manchester City were my third team. The reason for this was probably because I grew up in the north-west supporting Everton and saw parellels with the blue half of Merseyside and the blue half of Manchester.

That particular misguided belief changed a long time before the Arabs came along with their oil money and I'm so glad my adolescent mind saw thorough the kind of classless club Citeh would become before they actually did.

It was so satisfying to destroy them the other night on their own turf. After the way they'd claimed our win at Goodison was a fluke earlier in the season. You remember? That was the game in January when we played them off the park and should've won 5-0? Yeah, jammy bastards aint we? The result though coming out of the City Of Jeddah Stadium last Wendesday night sent out a signal to the entire football world.

That message shouted loud and clear:-
REGARDLESS OF YOUR RICHES (Saudi Riyal in this case), MONEY CANNOT BUY YOU CLASS, HISTORY AND CULTURE.

Or in the more succinct words of the ecstatic Evertonians on the terraces that night:-
2-0, AND WE'VE SPENT FUCK ALL!!

Since they won the Saudi lottery, supporters of Manchester's third team (after Man Utd and Droylsden) have gone and got themselves in a little tizz about how they're about to rule the world by buying the Premiership, the Champions League, the Copa America and the Eurovision Song Contest. Mind you, Terry Wogan's got more time on his hands these days I believe so he might fancy having a crack at winning something for Citeh because everyone else has tried to polish that particular turd and at the end of the day, a turd is a turd. They remind me of those Harry Enfield characters Stan and Pam Herbert, who used the catchphrase "We are considerably richer than yow", to try and make themselves feel superior. They're support is generally a ragtag collection of bitter old bastards who've watched years and years of divisional ups and downs, the Liam Gallagher set complete with swagger and plastic Manc badboy attitude and the newbie hangers-on who've attached themselves to the club recently when it looked like they might be getting some success at some point in the next twenty years.

Then the Italian Stallion goes and gets frisky with Moysey on the touchline and you just know that back on the streets of Glasgow, that particular incident would've ended up with Mancini writhing around on the floor with a broken nose and a deep fried Mars Bar shoved up his designer Italian arsehole. Abbia che voi omosessuale italiano sporco! On top of that, in the high end hospitality, Gary Cook (Arab glove puppet) throws out a guest of Everton and his missus for taking the piss at the end. We really did get at them in every area of that stadium didn't we?!!! The terraces were ours, the touchline, the pitch and even the prawn sarnies!

Everton have the dignity and team ethic within the current set-up to meet the arrogance of Manchester City and their fans head-on and they hate us for it. They see us as the scruffy bindippers from up the East Lancs Road, conveniently forgetting that Maine Road was situated in Moss Side. Remember that walk on night matches? Their history is an embarrassment which is probably why they enjoy wallowing in this amusing superiority complex that they have.

Everton might not have millions in the bank but our club has a heart and soul that money can't buy and now and then we get reminders of why it's a grand old team to support. I'd rather have that all day than be considerably richer than yow!

5.9

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Sleep Therapy

I dreamed a dream.

The dream involved just FOUR little things happening this season that didn't happen.

It changed everything.

23/8/09
Burnley v Everton
Everton are toiling 1-0 down against a very average Burnley side still buoyed by a win over Manchester United earlier in the week. Hibbert goes over and Phil Dowd awards a dubious penalty. Saha scores sending Jensen the wrong way. The game finished 1-1.
Everton +1 point Burnley -1 point20/12/09
Everton v Birmingham
At 1-0 up, Everton are comfortable and Louis Saha springs the offside trap to make it 2-0. Birmingham pull one back but it's not enough.
Everton +2 points Birmingham -1 point

6/2/10
Liverpool v Everton
With Liverpool down to ten men, Tim Cahill buries a trademark header from six yards at the Anfield Road end just before half time. Liverpool fluke one back later in the game to make it 1-1.
Everton +1 point Liverpool -2 points

28/2/10
Spurs v Everton
In the second half, it's 2-1 to Spurs and Everton are completely on top. A tremendous ball from Rodwell finds Landon Donovan at the far post who calmly slots home to make it 2-2. Everton +1 point Spurs -2 points

Four things that have this impact.

Everton +5
Burnley -1
Birmingham -1
Redshite -2
Spurs -2

The revised league table puts us on level points with the Gobshites with a game in hand. Even more tellingly, only 3 points away from 4th spot.

The finest margins. Live the dream people.

1 Man Utd 29 43 63

2 Chelsea 28 39 61

3 Arsenal 29 37 61

4 Man City 27 17 49

5 Tottenham 28 23 47

6 Liverpool 29 16 46

7 Everton 28 4 46

8 Aston Villa 26 16 45

9 Birmingham 28 -1 42

10 Fulham 28 3 38

11 Stoke 28 -5 35

12 Blackburn 28 -15 34

13 Sunderland 28 -8 30

14 Bolton 29 -22 29

15 Wigan 28 -26 28

16 West Ham 28 -9 27

17 Wolves 28 -25 24

18 Hull 28 -33 24

19 Burnley 29 -31 23

20 Portsmouth 28 -23 19

Johnny Heitinga - The Truth

John Heitinga has people buried under his patio.

John Heitinga is The Don.

John Heitinga rules Holland with an iron dildo.

John Heitinga smokes cocaine, injects weed and sniffs heroin.

John Heitinga has 6 wives, 12 mistresses, 9 bits on the side and still finds the strength to bash out 5 wanks a day on top of shagging all of them.

John Heitinga shot the sheriff and then ground the deputy into dust.

John Heitinga lost 1 arse cheek in an unfortunate smelting accident.

John Heitinga has 45 illegitimate children all of whom are named Johan.

John Heitinga eats small children and swills them down with bunny rabbit blood.

John Heitinga knew The Beatles before they were famous. John Heitinga owns the red light district.

John Heitinga shoots puppies with a shotgun.

John Heitinga is turning paddys wigwam into a ganja factory.

John Heitinga is banging Alex Curran/Gerrard.

John Heitinga told Jose Mourinho how to be "special".

John Heitinga hates Joleon Lescott.

John Heitinga has a pet alligator that he feeds on a diet of dead cats.

John Heitinga supervises mass orgies wile sitting atop a pile of naked bodies.

John Heitinga is working undercover for the Dutch government to organise the killing of Dirk Kujt.

John Heitinga owns a three wheel van which he uses to tow his caravan.

John Heitinga killed for the first time aged just 4 years and 8 months old.

John Heitinga has your mum on speed dial.

John Heitinga is a pimp to 237 prostitutes and 1 gay guy.

John Heitinga is Fernando Torres's real dad and knows that s/he is really a woman.

John Heitinga is the reason the managers of Real Madrid never last longer than a season as the board fear him.

John Heitinga leaving is the reason Athletico Madrid are struggling this season.

John Heitinga called Rafa Benitez a stupid beardy twat to his face before slapping him on his arse and calling him his bitch.

John Heitinga's home has a pool full of human blood.

John Heitinga shot JR in Dallas.

John Heitinga was the second gunman on the grassy knowl.

John Heitinga shits concrete n pisses acid.

John Heitinga drinks pints of whiskey on a night out.

John Heitinga can sniff cocaine up through his arsehole.

John Heitinga lost his parents who suffered similtaneous heart attacks during a rampant sex session.

John Heitinga is the banker on Deal Or No Deal.

John Heitinga made the devil squeel like a bitch.

John Heitinga is always watching you.

John Heitinga - The Truth On Facebook

5ive

Five important general theories attached to Everton FC:-

1) If something can be done, then Everton, as a team on the pitch or as an organisation off it, will generally do it the hardest, most long-winded way possible. This normally results in frustrating failure but these failures make the rare taste of success even sweeter.

2) Once a player is touched by the hand of Everton, they will never be the same. There are numerous examples of this throughout time, people without alot of knowledge or fondness towards Everton prior to their arrival. In recent history, names like Duncan Ferguson and Landon Donovan spring to mind. These people connected with the spirit of Goodison and her people quickly - it just happened and they BECAME.

3) The mainstream media find Everton to be somewhat offensive in a way you would try and avoid talking to your Pikey cousins at a wedding. This is because Everton have history, class and culture that overshadows most of what the Sky 4/5/6 (if you include the newly ordained Spurs and Citeh) could ever offer.

4) Referees have been mugging Everton off for many, many years partly because of point 3 above (buying into the negative media vibe) and partly because the general footballing fraternity (The FA, UEFA) find it in their best interests to maintain the status quo. Can any other club on Planet Earth roll off a list of atrocious refereeing performances throughout history that have defined major games and even influenced seasons? Paranoia? Clattenburg, Thomas, Poll, Wiley, Collina...that's five without even trying. Corrupt.

5) Scousers support Everton. Glory hunting out-of-town wools support Liverpool. This is a fact. Supporting Everton is something that has been cascaded down from father to son for generations in Liverpool. A survey a while ago showed that 65% of Everton season ticket holders lived within 8 miles of Goodison. Supporting the Redshite is something that Cockneys, Devonians, Norwegians and Paddy from Kildare started to do in the eighties when they weren't a laughing stock. The same survey showed that only 45% of Gobbos came from the same catchment area as previously mentioned. They will try and tell you that a 'cosmopolitan fan base' is the result of many years of success. Great, embarrassing though innit you sheep shaggin' divs?

Being an Evertonian is partly about acceptance of these guiding realisms.

It's not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Yesterday I watched Everton beat Hull 5-1 at Goodison. Should've been 10-1.

Next week we'll lose 4-0 at Birmingham.

That's Everton. And we love them!