FA Cup Final Tastes Bitter-Sweet for this Evertonian

Up until yesterday, Everton were the only team in English football to win something in every decade of it’s existence; a statistic which had been playing with my head ever since Dan Gosling bagged his winner against Liverpool in the fourth round. To lose such a record hurt my pride; just one of the many emotions I felt as Cup Final Fever swallowed me up.

There was a belief instilled in Everton, after the extra-time win over Liverpool, that I had never witnessed before as an Evertonian. It was a belief which soon poured onto the Goodison terraces as the fans started to believe that maybe, just maybe, the Gods of Football were going to afford the Toffees a rare moment of celebration.

This belief was fortified by Everton’s triumph over Aston Villa, the best away team in the country at that time, in the fifth round, with Tim Cahill’s goal becoming a symbolic moment of the 2008/09 season. The only time this belief wavered was when the Australian blazed the opening penalty, of the semi-final shootout, over the bar.

The semi-final was a glorious day for the club. The first trip to the New Wembley for the blue half of Merseyside, and against one of the best teams in the World, we knew this was an occasion to remember. From the club banners, carried onto the pitch by military men, to the atmosphere generated by the fans, the game was of epic proportions.

So when Everton progressed into the FA Cup final, I silently felt that the Cup had our name on it. Compare the teams we had knocked out, to the ones Chelsea knocked out, and there was only one team who deserved to take that trophy home. Of course, we knew that the team we were facing were not exactly going to give it up easily.

Since Andres Iniesta pummelled them out of the Champions League a few weeks ago, a massive injustice had hung over Stamford Bridge, and they were desperate to make amends. With one of the best and most proven managers in the world at the helm, they had the tactical know-how to upset the Evertonian party, too.

And given just what a club Everton is, the Gods of Football had to stack everything against us, with Yakubu, Arteta and Jagielka all suffering innocuous injuries. These three players consitute the spine of the Everton team, and given that none of them had ever suffered a long-term injury before, there had to be some force at work to sideline them. Compare these injuries, for example, all caused by minor twists and knocks, to Joey Barton’s horror tackle on Xabi Alonso a few weeks ago at Anfield. The Spaniard was okay after a few weeks, whereas the Everton trio were sidelined for long periods; it’s the little things.

I walk down Wembley Way for the second time in the space of one-and-a-half months, in the knowledge that this is where our club needs to be. As you walk towards the England national stadium, you cannot help but be attracted to it’s beauty and it’s stature; it is representative of English football, and it is where very professional aspires to be. Simply knowing that, soon, eleven Everton players were going cross the white line in such a glorious arena, packed with famous figures e.g. Kofi Annan, filled me with an incredible amount of pride. Unlike Pompey and Cardiff last year, however, I knew that this was not going to be the one and only time I would travel down Wembley Way.

National anthems are sung, flags waved, horns blown; this is really heating up now. And the game kicks off. I had hardly taken my seat and readied myself, for what was to be a nervous ninety minutes, when the ball is bobbling dangerously around the Chelsea area. Bang! 1-0. Elation. Louis Saha, the enigma of Everton’s season, has produced the magic Moyes had wanted from him all season, to give the Toffees a dream start. We are bouncing, dancing, jumping, singing, and simply not believing what is happening before us. Surely, the Gods of Football, those who gave us such a horrible FA Cup draw and injured our key players, were not going allow me to smile. Were they?

We’re on the cusp. We’re going to win this. Phil is going to lift the cup and we’ll be back here for the community shield. Then, suddenly, Hibbert is caught completely out of position and Malouda is given space on the wing. His ball finds Drogba in the box, and the Ivorian makes no mistake in powering his header past Tim Howard. 1-1. Gosh darn it! You could just see that coming…

Come on Blues! Let’s get to half-time, eh? The next twenty-five minutes fly by, to leave the scores level at the break. I am standing, completely still, staring at that Wembley pitch, and wondering if these eleven blues have the quality needed to finally beat this resilient Chelsea team. They are not lacking passion, nor enthusiasm, but the long hard season is definitely showing here. We need inspiration from somewhere, but our name is on this trophy, isn’t it? Somehow, we are going to win, and Cahill is going to be punching the flag fifteen metres from me.

Being honest, the inspiration did not arrive. Everton were largely uninspired in the second half, and Chelsea’s midfield completely dominated the play. It seemed the cup may have been moving away from us, but Saha had other plans. Rising in the box completely unmarked, he should’ve directed his header into the net, but instead, blazed it over. Compare this header, to Drogba’s clinical finish in the first half, and therein lies the difference. In terms of financial support, it’s ocean-liners versus rubber ducks.

Lampard turns Phil Neville on the edge of the box, but Howard has got that. Oh no, he hasn’t. The sea of Chelsea supporters erupt behind the goal as dejection comes over the Evertonian faithful. Maybe this isn’t our time after all. Our grip was weakening, our star was dimming, our hope was fading. And many thoughts raced through my mind, as quick as the Wembley clock, which seemed to be moving far too quickly.

Will we ever be what we were? How long will it take to get back to that? How much money do we need? Can we afford another summer with Kenwright at the helm? Yet the most prevalent thought in my mind was not about Everton at all, but rather about the fans on the other side of Wembley. A hatred was growing inside me for this team we were playing; a completely bank-rolled team that had bought it’s way to success and still had a much inferior history to ours. Their racist fans and their hooliganism are well-documented, so why did they deserve this victory over me? Most of them did not follow Chelsea until Abramovich came but now they are there in their glory.

A Chelsea fan of my age, will have seen so many glorious moments for his team, yet for me, this was not the case. I had seen Everton progress slowly but surely, and just when I thought I was going to see some silver, it was being snatched away from me by this dross. The final whistle went, but the tears would remain long after. I applauded the efforts of the boys in blue, just to show some dignity, but in all honesty, I was unsure what I was clapping for.

The walk back to the station took it’s time, as did the collection of luggage and journey to Euston Station. So many sentiments and emotions swirled around my head endlessly, and one startling thing remained. I looked back to 1985, and wondered if you asked an Evertonian, then, where they saw their team in the future, what answer you would get. I severely doubt they would have predicted just what a downward spiral the club would go on.

Just two final appearances in as many decades is a far cry from what we were before 1990; in those days, a final was our bread and butter. And there was just too much of a small-time attitude in the air for my liking. The applauding of the players after they collected their medals, whilst dignified, was also rather tame. Of course, you have to applaud your team’s efforts, but we had just lost to a team who hasn’t a mark on our history, yet. However, keep walking along the road of no investment, and they will soon catch us.

Confusion soon became an issue. On the train I sat, unable to make anything out of the day. It was a bag of snakes. Should I be happy? Should I be upset? Should I be asking questions? Should I be looking forward to next season? Or backwards at the twenty lost years of Everton Football Club’s history.

To talk to my Uncle before the game and hear of how we were United’s equivalent in the 80’s, is to wonder whether we will ever reach the summit once again. Can I honestly see Everton competing in the latter stages of the Champions League? Honestly? Only time will tell, I suppose.

Do I commend the players and the manager for their terrific efforts this season? Or do I berate the Chairman for not supporting the club enough financially? After all, it’s not Kenwright’s fault he has not the money to take us to the top.

Seldom have I thought more about the future of our club. Truth be told, there is not a quick answer to what the future holds for us. We thought this year was our time, and for whatever reason, it was not; be it injuries, the FA Cup draw, the lack of investment, or a culmination of the lot. When Portsmouth reached the Final last year, it was Cardiff who awaited for them, but such was not Everton’s luck.

The day, in all, was a cocktail of happiness, elation, disappointment, confusion, pride and a knock to said pride. Such is a day, in the whirlwind life of an Evertonian.

Hammertime: Same Ol' Song and Dance

A Radoslav Kovac first-half strike was cancelled out by a brace from Saha, punctuated by a rare goal for Joseph Yobo, to lift Everton to fifth in an eerily similar match to that of the reverse fixture at Upton Park. On that day, Collison gave West Ham the lead, only for Saha to strike twice, and a defender to put himself on the score sheet. It was Joleon Lescott’s header that day, but Yobo’s goal struck a similarity with Saha’s first, as it took a deflection before nestling into the West Ham net.

The game started with Everton on top, controlling the ball, and playing some good football. Pienaar continued his good form as he spun away from the West Ham midfield before showing the confidence to go for goal. It whistled, dipped and curled, but narrowly missed the far corner.

Soon, however, nerves may have crept in, and so ‘hoofball’ was prominent. This hoofball continued for a good ten to fifteen minutes, until Kovac awoke Everton. His long range strike, at first seeming special, was largely conceded due to poor goalkeeping by Tim Howard. It may have been the sun, he may have seen the ball late, but he should not have been getting beat from that range, considering the shot was not powerful, nor accurate. Yet it seemed a tactic West Ham were keen on, as Noble and Tristan also tried to test Howard from range in the first half. Whether this was panic fire, or a deliberate ploy from Zola, remains unknown.

After the goal, Everton woke up. They started to keep the ball again, and started pulling the strings. They would have their equaliser seven minutes before the interval, when they were awarded a penalty for a foul on Tim Cahill. The contact seemed negligible, but referee Phil Dowd not only saw it as a penalty, but also as a red card for Tomkins. The game changed in that moment.

There was a rather large delay of the taking of the penalty, but after long last, Saha stepped up and sent Green the wrong way, rifling his effort low and hard into the bottom right corner. The match was level, and news was filtering around Goodison of Middlesbrough’s lead against Villa. The half-time updates confirmed the score to be 1-0 in favour of the Riverside team, and the 38,000 inside Goodison saw this as an opportunity.

It only took the Toffees three minutes of the second half to grab the lead. Yobo controlled the ball with aplomb, off a Pienaar corner, and followed this up with a low drive across Green. It took a deflection as it treacled through a sea of claret and blue. The net bulged, Yobo pointed to the skies, and the crowd erupted, knowing that as it stood, fifth was theirs.

Boa Morte, who was largely anonymous, had a chance to level the match again. Using his pace to latch on to a beautiful through ball, the Portuguese man could not beat Tim Howard with his tame effort. For Everton though, who had held a high line throughout, this was a warning sign. Carlton Cole soon evaded the Everton offside trap but could not beat Howard in what can only be described as a scramble. Cole and Howard both fell to the floor, but it was the American who come out on top, getting to the ball first.

There was an uneasiness and sense of anxiety growing around Goodison, as the fans recognised the game was on a knife-edge. The Everton players, however, seemingly wanting to make up for their first half hoofball, could not resist the olé passing. The chants of olé with every pass seemed to egg the players on, as they just aimlessly passed it around the West Ham box. Everyone likes to see good football, but as the match was not won, it was too much too soon.

The match was soon put to bed, though, and as has so often been the case since the injury to Arteta, it was the Steven Pienaar show. After receiving the ball on the left hand channel, he executed his dummy beautifully to leave his man dead-on-his-feet. He charged into the box, but when so many would fall down, Pienaar kept his head to calmly pick Saha out, and the Frenchman simply could not miss from two yards out. Saha’s ‘worship’ gesture to Pienaar before the lap of honour, taken from Wayne’s World, said it all.

Saha could have soon bagged a hat-trick, as Everton sprung a quick counter attack, leaving two-on-one at the back. Cahill slipped Saha through down the middle, but he hit Green with his effort. Rodwell had already been brought on to replace Fellaini, and soon after Moyes withdrew Cahill and Saha, for Vaughan and Jo.

Jo may have been taking his final bow at Goodison yesterday, and he seemed eager to make a lasting impression. He was slipped through by Pienaar near the end, and when he looked certain to score, Neill got back at him to snatch the ball away from danger.

The final whistle blew, the news of Villa’s result had filtered through, and there were smiles all around. The smiles were short-lived, however, as Evertonians recognise how much of a bogey ground Craven Cottage is for them. That is where they travel to on the last day, to play an in-form and seventh-placed Fulham side, knowing a win will secure fifth place regardless of what Villa do. Villa need to beat a battling Newcastle side to stand a chance of reclaiming fifth.

Man of the Match: Yobo (9)

Topping off a solid defensive performance with a rare goal, Yobo proved his doubters wrong yesterday. Many eyebrows have been raised in the Nigerian’s direction since Jagielka was stretchered off, with many not thinking he is fit to lace his injured team-mate’s boots. Time will tell, I suppose, but going on yesterday’s performance, he can do a job on the 30th May.

Priceless and Well-Deserved Victory for Toffees at Stadium of Light

If there was any doubt over Everton’s commitment in the final league games of the season, following their shock 2-1 defeat to Manchester City last weekend, it was completely removed today at the Stadium of Light. Everton travelled to the North East to record a 2-0 victory, earned with a terrifically professional performance.

A win for the Toffees was essential, considering West Ham, Manchester City and Tottenham had all took three points in their fixtures yesterday. David Moyes knew a win would not only widen the gap with the chasing pack, but also heap pressure onto Aston Villa, who host the struggling Hull at Villa Park tomorrow night.

It must be highlighted that Sunderland were simply not up for the match, at least, not as much as Everton. Rather surprising, given that Everton already have Europa League football guaranteed next season, whereas Sunderland are still embroiled in a relegation battle.

Sunderland failed to create many opportunities and hold the ball for meaningful periods, but Everton had no such problems. For the first time since Arteta was stretchered off at St. James’ Park, Everton were able to play the game at their own pace and control possession. Jo put in another magnificent shift up front in the hope of a permanent deal, meaning Everton posed Sunderland problems every time they went forward.

A well-worked corner on the 10-minute mark could have given the visitors the lead. Dan Gosling shipped his ball out to the penalty spot, where Cahill flicked the ball goal wards. Lescott was charging down on the ball dangerously in front of Fulop, but the goalkeeper managed to get enough on it. Everton’s set pieces have bore the most fruit out of any Premiership team this season, but given the height and power in the Sunderland team, Everton did not rely on dead ball situations so much today.

One of the most powerful and tallest players in the Sunderland ranks is Kenwynne Jones, and he had an opportunity just seconds after Cahill’s header. He evaded the Everton defence in the penalty area, but, on the stretch, could only manage to blaze his effort over the bar. It was a rare sight at goal for Sunderland, whose strike patnership, of Cisse and Jones, failed to deliver.

Jo, on the other hand, was a handful throughout, and he should have given Everton the lead after a quarter of an hour. After some good link-up play between Baines and Pienaar, the Brazilian was magnificently slipped through on goal. Charging down on Fulop’s goal, he reduced the angle for himself, and could only slice disappointingly wide of the target. Some may criticise Jo’s lack of a clinical touch when presented with goal-scoring opportunities, but the mere fact he finds himself in so many good positions points to the man’s undoubted talents, and inconsistency is something which plagues many young players.

Home-grown talent Grant Leadbitter combined well with Jones thirty yards from goal, and he showed no hesitation in shooting as he tried to test Howard from range. The American, however, remained untested as Leadbitter’s drive was dragged wide of the target. This, and Jones’ early chance, was all the relegation-plagued home side could muster in the first half.

For Everton, it was a different story. Seven minutes from the interval, Pienaar picked the ball up on the edge of the box and fired across goal. Youngster Dan Gosling, who was brought in to replace Leon Osman, made contact with the cross-cum-shot, from just two yards out. The ball had different ideas, mind, as it bounced off Gosling’s hip and away from danger.

It was hard to see how Sunderland could play so bad in the second half, and therefore, it seemed Moyes may have ended up ruing the missed opportunities, but it was not to be, as Sunderland managed to played even worse in the second half. This heartless second half showing from the home side only catalysed an Everton side determined to put things right after last week’s disappointment.

One man, in particular, would rise considerably to the occasion. Steven Pienaar revealed in his post-match interview that Moyes has often given him ‘stick’ for not getting enough goals, and despite being the best man on the pitch in the first half, Pienaar still was not content.

Three minutes into the second half, his run married up well with Jo’s pass, leaving him through on goal. Showing terrific graft to outmuscle Sunderland’s Phil Bardsley, Pienaar homed in on goal, before poking the ball underneath Fulop, finishing off a terrific Everton move. The beauty of such a finely-crafted goal was only matched by Pienaar’s acrobatic celebration. It was a lead that Everton thoroughly deserved, as they showed much more ambition and bravery throughout the game.

Sunderland, however, could have undeservedly snatched a goal back within a few minutes. Collins met the ball off a corner, but his powerful header was directed straight at a grateful Tim Howard. Tim Cahill, forever the master of headers, wanted to show Collins how to do it ten minutes later.

Gosling, never afraid of running at players, got down the touchline and pinged a ball towards the back post. Cahill was unmarked and looked set to double Everton’s lead, but the ball took the slightest of touches just before the Australian made contact. It deflected just beyond Cahill’s reach, who could only header high, wide and handsome. It was this slight touch that kept Sunderland in the match for another ten minutes, but then, they were buried.

Jacobsen, making only his fourth appearance this season, chipped a ball down the line towards the man of the match, Steven Pienaar. He picked the ball up and turned towards the Sunderland goal, before picking out Fellaini in the box. The Belgian finished beautifully to tie up the match, and redeemed himself for a previously missed opportunity.

The last thing we saw from Sunderland as an attacking unit came ten minutes from time, and even that was a mistake. Steed Malbranque’s cross-cum-shot almost caught Howard out in the Everton goal, but he punched over for a corner. As excellent and professional Everton were, Sunderland were poor and toothless.

Maybe it speaks of the character of David Moyes’ side that they have gone sixty-two league games without losing consecutive matches. It was the perfect response to an extremely disappointing result and performance last weekend, in which maybe fatigue was a major factor. They looked fresh and potent in the North-East today, as they recorded a priceless win to take fifth place of Villa. Hull travel to Birmingham tomorrow in the knowledge that the Villains will be wanting to reclaim their position as ‘best of the rest’.

Man of the Match: Pienaar (10)

The heart, commitment and most importantly, class, shown by Pienaar today was rewarded with an outstanding goal. Arguably his best performance ever in the blue and white.