Every time I watch us I think the same thing: what is Roberto Martinez still doing here?
Today’s defeat to Man Utd had all the classic Roberto tropes. A one nil defeat, zero points, a pinged crossbar, and a handful of half chances. The cruel cliche is true, Football is a results business. Are we going to look back on the last two seasons, and think, “Welp, we played well going forward…Sometimes.”?
We have a glorious squad, brimming with potential. But what use is potential when your manager can’t turn it into anything consistent? The fist slamming frustrations come when Martinez looks at the barely glowing embers – of leads frittered away, of unfulfilled potential – and screams “FIRE!”
And he’s made fools of us all.
How ridiculous does that Martinez mural seem now?
How laughable is our song from last season, the one about Sammy Eto’o? Or how about “Money Can’t Buy You Stones?”… And eclipsing all of this is our ridiculous results on the pitch. Goodison isn’t a fortress, it’s a torture chamber run by a smiling dolt.
Martinez is far too nice. Imagine him in the zombie apocalypse. He’s the kind of relentlessly positive twerp who would try and “hug it out” with the zombies.
Bill Kenwright is too nice as well… Did anyone else’s face seize up from intense cringing while watching the post Chelsea FA Cup interview with Messrs Kenwright and Moshiri? Our Bill, with a smile as wide as a Stuart Barlow shot, one arm draped luvvyingly around our new majority shareholder, tried to tell the camera that we have a great manager. “What a manager. WHAT a manager,” purred Bill.
What a manager indeed.
Seemingly, we only have two settings under Martinez…
The first is the Everton of today. Boring dull bespectacled football, a team of hungover Bruce Waynes and quiet Clark Kents nervously adjusting their glasses. We wait for our superheroes to turn up, but they never do.
The second is the Everton of Bournemouth away, Stoke at home, and Chelsea away. Suicidal football. Yes, it may be football played with the handbrake off, but we have dynamite strapped to us. There’s excitement and plenty of explosions, but unfortunately the carnage is at both ends. Both Everton fans and Everton’s defence are usually on their knees after this type of game.
So there are our choices: boring Clark Kent football or suicidal Michael Bay football. All we have left is our cup run and that could be extinguished at any moment. Why do we put up with it?
We can’t criticize Roberto for being too nice, if we’re just as soft on him too.
In this results business, Roberto Martinez is bankrupt.