If you’re not a soccer fan you can skip this post. Everton (the Blues) won on Saturday. This is the exception proving the rule – a few weeks ago they were hovering on the brink of the relegation zone and looked likely to plunge into the nether leagues. Worse, it looked as if the manager who last year took them into the Champions League with his bare hands was about to be fired.
But now, 14th in the Premiership – the successor of the First Division of which they were a founder member 130-something years ago – it looks as if they will survive, and we can, if not celebrate, breathe again.
Short of money and in the long shadow of the Reds, our friendly but bitter rivals from the other side of Stanley Park, (where my uncle was custodian of the cemetery and therefore neutral), the Blues will come back to glory. But will I, son and parent of blue-blooded Evertonians, live long enough to see it?
And to complete my weekend, the other Reds, Manchester United, lost, and their star ‘diver’ (simulator of fouls in order to get opposing players booked or sent off) – was sent off!
Oh poetic irony! Welcome back, Blues! Bye Bye, Reds!
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