RIGHT then, all nominations are in, the votes counted, the lame awards-related cliches trotted out - yes, it’s time to deliver the lowdown on Everton’s season. Gwlad-ies style.
In what will become an annual blue-tie event (if this blog hasn’t fallen below the ever-popular ‘Metal Detecting’ or Polish Jack in the Echo ratings) I’m giving you the awards that matter.
You won’t get this anywhere else.*
PLAYER OF THE SEASON - There have been so many worthy candidates during a remarkable season. Howard was Mr Consistency again. Jagielka, inspirational. Phil Neville showed us the way and won over his detractors through sheer strength of spirit.
Osman underlined the extent of mercurial ability in his little size fives, and Pienaar brought sexy back.
But there was only one legend forged this season. And his name was Joleon Lescott.
YOUNG PLAYER OF THE SEASON - Even though he barely played James Vaughan did enough during inspirational early displays, notably against Birmingham and Blackburn, to suggest that he will be better than Agbonlahor et al if he can stay fit. Still the most exciting and bombastic striker I’ve seen come through our youth ranks (he doesn’t count).
GOAL OF THE SEASON -This came right down to the wire. For a start, although Osman’s pearler against Larissa was a thing of beauty it didn’t make the final two. They went to Mikky Arteta’s scorcher against Fiorentina for its sense of occasion and high-drama and Carsley’s belter against Birmingham for a last minute victory.
Because he’s a superb fella, because he’s likely to leave and because I fell of my seat punching the air - Super Lee gets it. Have that.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hJNuv7JLCc
CELEBRATION OF THE SEASON - We sorely missed Timmy’s iconic shadow boxing in the corners, but savoured Joleon’s bicep clenching and ear-cupping a remarkable 10 times.
AJ even had us intrigued with his A-Force (sadly not often though). Yet the cele award goes to the Yak for his Super Eagles jazz-hands. Because he did it 21 times and became a true-blue Goodison marksman in the process.
WHOPPER-SHOUT OF THE SEASON -Two rows from pitch-side, in the Paddock. A drooling, Umbro-coat clad schemer boils with indignation and inspiration until suddenly: “LINER!” he yells in bizarre West Country accent. “You, you, you....you should have gone to Spec-Savers!”
Oh how we all cringed.
VILLAIN OF THE SEASON -Every single linesman had a game go for this prize. Rafa’s lame and risible goading after the derby was worth a pop, and even Martin Laursen entered a late application with his bizarre goading at Goodison (enjoy the Inter-toto, nob).
The award nearly goes to Alan Wiley for inexplicably ruling out AJ’s perfectly onside goal at Ewood when we were still in Champion’s League contention. You won’t find (much) 'right-result' table moaning here. But what might have been...Anyway, step forward Consett's original ruddy-cheeked buffoon Mark Clattenburg.
GAME OF THE SEASON -So many. Where to start? Fiorentina at Goodison for drama, Arsenal at home for outrage, Chelsea away for inspiration?
All good but none close to the moment when you knew this team have found a new template for quick, impervious, flair-filled football. Thrashings don’t come much more stylish than 7-1 against Sunderland.
Nothing against the likeable Weir-siders but this one gets my vote for the time when optimism was unchecked. Arteta was still sparkling, Cahill fit and scoring, and The Yak knew he was going to get 20-plus goals (we all knew it really didn’t we?).
HAIR-CUT OF THE SEASON - For sheer incredulity it has got to go to Pienaar’s girly pig-tails. How he ever thought they were acceptable for a modern gentleman is beyond me.
He may well be a master craftsman of sexy footy but any more of this and he’s off. Steven, you’ve been warned.
MYSTERY OF THE SEASON -No, not the perennial lack of Big Investment at Goodison, or Keith’s Deal of the Century, or even what happened to Gravesen’s legs.
It’s got to be the plummeting form, fitness and sadly, attitude of Victor Anichebe. From early season Metalist super-sub hero his star faded faster than Shandy getting the ale in at Baby Blue.
LOW MOMENT OF THE SEASON -Soaked to the bone, hungry and having just witnessed the Blues effectively toss away our Euro dream with one pitiful performance in the Stadio Artemio Franchi, I didn’t even have the heart to chat to the cute but bemused American girl as the coach ferried us through the night back to Florence.
The next evening we got over it and went on the ale...the rest was history for me. (Ryanair? I hate you).
WILL SOMEONE SHUT THAT SHRILL HAG UP OF THE SEASON -“This is Operation Goodison announcement...” Sorry to send shivers down your spine but is there anything more annoying than the woman with the harshest voice in Liverpool booming out over the PA at the match, invariably at a moment of high-tension? Surely she haunts your nightmares too. Why can’t they just get Becky Davis to do it? Or Pete Price?
MISS OF THE SEASON -Derby County. At home. A ‘six pointer’ in the race to qualify for Europe. Right in front of the Gwladys, the Yak is teed up less than a yard from goal and next minute some lad in row GG has just nearly dropped his pie ducking.
He scored some beauties for us the big, ace, loveable dope but how he missed that I’ll never ever know.
AFTER GAME P*SS-UP OF THE SEASON -There have been some memorable nights spawned from the taxi club during this campaign.
Notable mentions must go to ‘The one where Me, Phil and JC ended up in the Halton Castle (of all places) at 11pm, talking of love, loss and Eighties music’ and ‘The one where our Andy tried (and failed) to drag us into Pink and JC got chatted-up by a women with mental health issues in Reflex'.
But the winner was crowned this very Sunday gone, after Newcastle. It had it all; euphoria, tropical rain storms, long walks down County Road, blag champagne off the landlady in The Pacific, more gay bars (John, Kevin, Andy - take a bow), The Grapes and finally in true end of season-style, O’Neills.
So that's it. Awards dished out, imaginary free white-wine guzzled at the table, and now we're off to the imaginary VIP in our blag wrist-bands to get smashed.
It's been a wonderful season of Evertonian-ism and one it has been a privelege to watch.
Roll on August.
* Except in the Post, Echo, official match day programme, Evertonian magazine and every other Toffee related website/fanzine you care to mention.
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Geoff wrote...
My favourite post game celebration was after The SK Brann 6-1 hammering. After the match it was The Winslow then Into town, we then headed to Thomas Rigby's where roaming poet Tony Chesnut wrote and read to us a ditty on the joys of Tony Hibbert.
I've still got the sheet with his scrawl on.
Then we ran through the fountains in Williamson Square, dried off under the heater in the bogs of The Queens and headed into Rubber Soul where me and a group of mates sang Kyrie by Mr Mister.
Posted by: Geoff | May 14, 2008 2:13 PM