I am a bastard Evertonian. The son of a bona fide local Everton fan, I was instead born in south London, and have often felt out of place at Goodison Park because of it. In my teens, fascinated by all things blue, I tried to pull back the layers of Everton, voraciously gobbling up all reading material and eventually settling on the fanzine – the subterranean avenue of choice for most wannabe ‘die hards’. I still remember the chill that swept through me when I came across letter after letter attacking fans of Everton that didn’t hail from Merseyside. My club had just broken the news to me that...
In an interesting variation on “You only sing when you’re winning,” it seems that the Blue Union only marches when we’re losing. Earlier today...

