Raining Bottles

STANDING in the sweltering concourse beneath the Lower Bullens stand on Saturday, my Evertonian friend kindly offered to buy me a drink.

Gladly accepting a cold bottle of coke (and a rapidly melting Mars bar) I was surprised to find that plastic bottles complete with their caps are served at Goodison, rather than the paper cups dished out at most football grounds.

Turning to my long-suffering companion, I remarked that our neighbours must not share other club’s concerns regarding health and safety, or bottles being thrown by fans. He merely shrugged and laughed, and we made our way up to the old wooden seats at the back of the historic stand.

Something tells me plastic bottles will not be served when Everton host Liverpool next year.

The 90 minutes that followed had everything we have come to expect from the Merseyside derby: controversy, cheating, red and yellow cards, bad refereeing, passion, hatred and the obligatory vile chants. All of which was peppered by the aforementioned bottles raining down on the pitch whenever a Liverpool player ventured too near the blue hordes.

With Kenny Dalglish making just one obvious change in reinstalling our derby talisman Dirk Kuyt on the right hand side at the expense of Jordan Henderson, the Reds lined up with largely the same team that narrowly beat Wolves a week previously.

In the opening exchanges Everton looked the more dominant side, roared on by the ferocious home support and driven by an impressive midfield axis of Marouane Fellaini and Jack Rodwell.

Liverpool struggled to settle into any kind of rhythm, and it was against the run of play when Phil Jagielka's mistake gifted a chance to Kuyt. Controlling the ball with far more skill than his detractors suggest he possesses, Dirk then found Luis Suarez with an accurate cross, but Suarez headed tamely into Tim Howard’s arms from close range.

Everton launched an immediate counter attack, and arguably the best header of a ball in English football, Tim Cahill, nearly made it 1-0. Thankfully the Reds were saved by Pepe Reina, who tipped the Australian’s effort over the bar.

Everton seemed to grow in confidence, so much so that the ageing centre half Sylvain Distin was next to trouble our defence, twisting past Jose Enrique and going close.

Sitting in the home end when your team is playing away is never a pleasant experience, especially across Stanley Park, but it’s hard to turn down the offer of a ticket for one of the biggest games of the season. At this stage the blues around me were buoyed by their impressive start to the contest, and the smattering of red shirts dotted among the home support didn’t seem too much of a problem. It is the ‘friendly derby’, after all.

Predictably the atmosphere was set to change - from one of early optimism to one of seething rage. And the change in mood was brought about by every Everton fan’s favourite hobbyhorse – perceived injustice.

To be fair, in this case, they had an utterly valid point. The instant dismissal of Rodwell for a clean tackle on Suarez was one of the most baffling decisions you will ever see – the judgment of a man who has surely never played the game at any competitive level.

Whether Suarez was genuinely hurt by the follow through of Rodwell’s knee I don’t know, but his apparent histrionics and the complaints of Lucas Leiva may have helped Martin Atkinson make up his mind. Rodwell got the ball and in doing so made a tackle with the minimum level of commitment and aggression we demand from our players in a derby game, but Mr Atkinson brandished a red card.

From that point on as many people have observed, the game was effectively over as a contest. We may have defeated Everton with 10 men on more than one occasion in recent years, but such is the financial disparity and gulf in quality between the playing staff of the two clubs, it shouldn't really be a level playing field even when its 11 v 11. With 10 men Everton had little chance.

Saying that, they continued to work very hard, and while they surrendered territory and possession, they didn’t surrender the game. The Reds in contrast did not seem able to summon the energy to make our numerical advantage count, nor find the crispness in our passing to open up a resolute Everton defence.

Suarez was clever in winning a penalty from Jagielka, who should have known better than to make such a rash challenge and clip him just inside the box. Presumably he escaped a booking because Mr Atkinson was wary of incensing David Moyes further, and presumably that was the only reason one of the worst players in Premiership football, Tony Hibbert, escaped a yellow card for a lunge on Charlie Adam that was by far the worst foul of the day.

Previously when Dirk Kuyt stepped up to take a penalty the result had always been the same – a goal to Liverpool. But I have to admit I didn’t fancy him on this occasion, facing Tim Howard once again with the American surely having picked up a tip or two from the three penalties Kuyt has dispatched past him already in Merseyside derbies. By the law of averages I suppose even the ice-cool Dutchman was due to miss one eventually, and it was a cracking save by Howard. The penalty wasn’t struck hard enough nor cleanly enough, but it was towards the corner, and was far from a bad effort. I’d bet on Dirk tucking his next one away.

Charlie Adam then produced his first meaningful contribution of the initial 45 minutes, a delightful shot that soared past Howard’s flailing arm and crashed against the crossbar. As the half time whistle blew I started to wonder if it was going to be one of those days, and despite the odds being stacked in our favour, I can’t say that I was happy with things as they stood at the interval.

Perhaps sitting with blues riddled my brain and I am being overly negative – I’m quite willing to accept that I absorbed the overwhelming negativity that surrounded me through osmosis! But I was disappointed with the way the second half began, and it seemed obvious to me that Steven Gerrard was needed as a substitute for Adam, and Craig Bellamy’s pace should also be called upon. Carroll did go close twice with well-directed and powerful headers, and we had no real problems defensively, but we still weren’t dominating play and hadn’t forced a clear chance in open play.

The double change Kenny made shortly after the hour was the one the game was crying out for – with Stevie predictably replacing Adam and an ineffectual Stewart Downing making way for Bellamy. We immediately looked brighter, and the sight of Gerrard urging us forward really is enough by itself to give every Red a lift.

Bellamy’s direct approach reaped dividends, with Everton looking scared of his blistering pace. He played in Enrique, again a standout performer, and when he crossed Kuyt showed a lovely bit of awareness to duck out of the way. Carroll made a little bit of room for himself and powered home the goal we had been craving.

Running towards our stand, he clearly enjoyed shoving the ‘what a waste of money’ chants down the Everton fan’s throats. The response to his goading was predictable - the blue support erupted and a lot of bottles and coins were thrown in his direction.

I chose to sit on my hands, relishing in the head rush of the goal and that strange sensation of restrained excitement flowing through my veins. But one jubilant Red in front of me leapt for joy, and things quickly turned ugly, with half a stand trying to get at him, ‘murderers’ chants breaking out more loudly than before, and a couple of lads spitting in his direction until he was escorted out by police.

While I would be livid, I wouldn’t personally react in that way to an Everton fan celebrating wildly in the Kop. But I have little sympathy for the offender – you’re in the home end, so as far as I'm concerned you show some respect or accept the consequences.    

I briefly lost focus on what was happening on the pitch, perhaps distracted by the sight of one Red in front of me covering up his Suarez shirt by hastily donning a thick jumper... despite it being the hottest day of the year, and the Lower Bullens stand now morphing into one big, angry mass of sweat.

While I wondered whether the stewards would actually do something to try and stop the bottles flying around, we scored our second goal. Suarez’s strike was a result of comical defending, Distin and Leighton Baines so panicked by his presence that they somehow combined to hand him the ball just yards from Howard’s net. Luis doesn't let an opportunity like that pass him by. 

As Suarez celebrated in front of the Gwladys Street faithful even more bottles came his way, an assault which continued when Bellamy took a corner, when Kuyt went behind the goal to collect the ball and when Luis lined up to take another set piece on the opposite flank. The sight of all three showing no fear was a joy to behold, and it really would have been the icing on the cake if Gerrard had lashed home a chance he hit from distance.

In the end it was Suarez and Kuyt who almost provided the final insult. Suarez complained about the objects being thrown in his direction as he took a corner and then suddenly chipped the ball to Dirk, catching the Everton defenders unaware. It was wonderfully sly, yet when Kuyt flicked the ball with the outside of his boot it sadly struck the post. Carroll may well have profited from the rebound if he had followed the move and made a run into the box, but it didn’t really matter – the game was already won.

Watching our players celebrate at the end I yearned to be in with the away support, and following thousands of frustrated Evertonians as they trudged out of the ground I thanked my lucky stars for the thousandth time that I was not born into a blue family. Once a year I’m content to sit among them, but I don’t think I could ever belong to that tribe.

I can’t throw a plastic bottle that far for starters!