Evertonian Parallels

And, once again, another Manchester night ends not with a bang, but with a whimper....

It took ages to get to Liverpool, and my aunt was convinced that I wasn't coming; I had said I'd be there round lunchtime, and instead turned up at half four or so. On the Liverpool Underground to Maghull I sat opposite some young lad who appeared to be assembling the kind of football boots Tomas de Torquemada would have favoured. They consisted of a metal rack with spikes on, to which one would attach rubber studs so as to avoid killing people inadvertently. I presumed that this would somehow be fastened on to the 'shoe' part of the boot, and wondered how on earth people could play when armed (legged?) with such devices. My football knowledge is rather limited, I fear.

Needless to say, I was completely wrong. A couple of young ones came and sat next to me, and after gazing at the tortureshoes for no more than a minute, they asked what they were. Crampons, it turned out. The studs were just so he didn't maim people by accident when carrying them or putting them on; they'd be removed when he was clambering across ice or whatever. The girls were a bit on the chirpy side, and began chatting to me too, taking great delight in my accent. Which was odd, since I'd woken up with no voice at all today, so I sounded like a softly spoken Shane MacGowan.

Spent the evening in my aunt's once I finally got there. Weird to see my cousin John, who I hadn't seen since I was five - twenty-two years. Chatted to him, and my aunt, and my cousin Catherine, until the rest of the clan began to return from the match. The family are fanatical Evertonians, and needless to say* were happy with today's result. Results, in fact, since not only did Everton beat West Brom, but Liverpool and Arsenal both lost. Which means that Everton are now third in the Premiership, two points behind Liverpool and three behind Arsenal. And this despite having scored only three more goals than they've conceded. 1-0 results will do that for you. Some people are getting cocky about this pointing out that last time Everton were this high at this stage of the season was 1987, when they won, but to be honest, I think most Evertonians would be happy enough with a place in the top half of the table. Against that, that's how they would have felt a few weeks back. Expectations seem to be rising now.

How does this tally with my previous observation that my football knowledge is rather limited? Put simply, I'm about as devoted an Evertonian as I am devout a Catholic. I'm not exactly the most fanatical supporter of the club, but I would never dream of supporting another one, and I have followed its fortunes with interest (and increasing dismay until this season) since I was a child. And I've been to Goodison a few times. I'd like to go more often, but it never works out...

That's quite an apt parallel, really.

Good day for sport overall, with Ireland managing a sixth straight win in Rugby, beating Argentina 16-7 in Lansdowne Road. This is particularly encouraging, since Argentina have beaten us the last couple of times we've played. And of course, England destroyed South Africa, which was only fair, considering the disgusting and vicious way the South Africans played. That barge into Wilkinson was the sort of thing that could end a career.

Anyway, with David, Clare, and Tommy having arrived, we sat and chatted for a while, and then Clare was to head back to Manchester since her husband Tony and the kids were ahead of her, having gone on after the match. I scadged a lift, which was far better than spending another two-and-a-half hours cutting between buses and trains. She brought me out to the house first to see the clan. Lauren, the eldest girl, was delighted to see me, and asked straight away: 'Will you be staying over, Uncle Gregory?' I was sorry to say that I wasn't, since I was meant to be going out. Still, I'll see them soon enough, please God.

Clare drove me back, and I soon met up with Shaw, Jenny, Eve, and Eddie in the pub, being joined shortly afterwards by Sandra and Alex. Apathy had clearly set in over the day, though I'm not sure when, since the girls were probably on a high, having been at Old Trafford earlier (Shaw supports United despite being American, Jenny supports Newcastle despite being a Canadian who's lived in Oxford most of her life - odd, but so it goes); whatever had happened, plans to go dancing had been quietly shelved.

So when the bar shut, we came home. How exciting are we?

***

As an afterthought. Heinrich has mailed me a link to the following quiz: http://nationalgeographic.com/geo_survey/. It's a sample of twenty questions from that geography test that's been in the news lately, since it seems to indicates that only about three per cent of Americans can find their way home from school, church, the mall, the local gun shop, wherever. To be fair, it looks like most of the rest of the world is not much better, while Mexicans clearly never go outside their front doors.

My brother is apparently tempted to include some of those questions in the pub quiz he organises in Kansas City, where he lives. I think it's in McBrides pub, though I might be wrong. So if you'd care to fly in on the relevant day, you might have a head start in his quiz. I'm not surev that would justify the journey, but if you're doing nothing better....

* ('So why,' you ask with some justification, 'are you saying it?' To which I answer, 'Well, it is my site... if you have a problem with it, get your own.'

Do that anyway, in fact, and then we can compete to see who has the more mundane site. I'd recommend some good blogsites I like to you, but think I should check with their bloggers before sticking in any links.)