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Singing In The Rain: Everton 2-1 Leicester City
by Ed Bottomley

It was painful viewing against West Brom at Goodison. For some, it was painful listening too – with white noise spitting out of the Park End tannoys… It shouldn’t be this painful, should it? Theo made his full debut and Cenk made his home debut but all we could muster was a draw. Against ruddy West Brom.

The excuses were running out. 

We’re a team that the Guardian’s Marina Hyde would call “brutally self parodic”… After years of eking out an existence on the financial breadline, Farhad Moshiri promised to change everything. We had more money than we knew what to do with, and after last summer, more players than we knew what to do with too…

We’d won the summer transfer window, but somehow lost our identity, and worse still found an ability to turn in some truly dire performances. 

We’ve spent £239 on new talent in 12 months, desperately trying to catch the big boys, but in doing so we’ve thrown dozens of strangers at each other, many who play in the same positions, sold our best player, lost another one for a tiny fee, gone through three managers, and come out of it a mess. My Twitter pal Russell summed it up perfectly. In our eagerness to spend spend spend, we’ve been spinning our tires. If anything, losing even more ground to those above us. We wanted to be Marvel, but we’re DC with no tangible success and a chubby Ben Affleck on our hands.

From angry birds on sleeves, to angry punters in the stands and boy are they angry. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and the Old Lady has been a cauldron of negativity for a while now. Big Sam and his little ideas aren’t really helping. Allardyce’s appointment was a decision borne from fear, and some of his puritanically defensive displays have made for dire viewing. 

Up until Wednesday – with a few choice exceptions – Big Sam had been sending out a random assortment of eleven arses and elbows with varying degrees of failure. Victory over Leicester leapt out on us like a mugger. No one saw it coming. We’d just thrown Sandro back to Spain, sent Lookman to Germany on loan (SA: “He [Lookman] wouldn’t be available on loan because Aaron Lennon went a few days ago”), dropped Tosun to the bench in favour of Niasse, and decided to start Rooney and Sigurdsson (despite saying they couldn’t fit in the same team just days earlier…)

We also sported Cuco, our reserve right back, in at left back. Lets stop abusing Cuco Martina, eh? He’s as much a victim as we are. It’s like booing a rancid meal rather than the chef that made it. Normally speaking (and few things about Everton have been remotely normal this year) we’d have brought in a left back in the summer, or in January, and Cuco would be free to frolic around Finch Farm as our reserve (reserve) right back. But because we relied on our 33 year old left back playing every game this season and staying fit – we’ve ended up in this mess. 

But enough negativity…

Wednesday saw the return of Seamus Coleman. It was an unbelievable performance from a man returning from serious injury. I’d forgotten how fast and direct he can be. His bravery takes on a new dimension now too – to charge around with such blue blooded commitment – throwing himself into tackles and spurring us forward when ten months ago he suffered a horrific fracture, is amazing. I’ve always loved Seamus, and somehow I love him even more. Theo was great too, and his partnership with Seamus showed real promise. It’s early days, ridiculously early days, but could they be the right sided version of Bainaar?…

In a season of naive lotto lout mistakes, as we charge around the transfer china shop like newly minted bulls, where we’ve spent enough money on players to build a new stadium, it’s fitting that the answer to our problems against Leicester yesterday cost us just 60 grand. Welcome back Seamus. We’ve missed you so much.



Newly minted Bull in a china shop.

Lotto lout


Big Sam and his little ambitions 

Museum? Comedy club more like.

Niasse was a throwback to our crap era 

Written by Ed Bottomley

Everton fan exiled in Michigan. Duncan Ferguson obsessive, history buff, optimist. Follow me on Twitter @Dixies60

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