Sometimes when you’re at home, as in your own house, it is easy to get up, switch off the TV, and go and do something else. I don’t do that. I don’t even leave a game (e.g. Wigan) when we are awful and have no chance of winning a game. So I sat through to the bitter end tonight, and I write this as raw as can be, in the hope that by writing about it, I can effect some kind of catharsis and help myself to get some sleep, rather than have nightmares about men in red shirts running at me seemingly scoring at will.
It has to be said that we were awful. But it should also be said that Liverpool were excellent, and trust me, that is not something I ever expected to have to write. But they were. And so were we. Awful I mean. It is hard to pick out a single positive, save the relentless running of Mirallas, and maybe the performance of Baines, but apart from that, no, sorry, not much can be said that would bring a smile to anyone’s face, and certainly not to Evertonians in Liverpool tomorrow. Sometimes it helps to live away from the city.
And sometimes it helps to try to get some perspective. Reading twitter, which I did right up until the 4th goal, you’d think we were in the bottom three; you’d think our manager was on the way out; you’d think our players should all be transferred, a new board sworn in, and a completely new side purchased by Friday at 11pm. Ok, we are all frustrated as hell, but come on.
When the points are tallied up at the end of the season, that will be a defeat. Just one. Not ten, even though that’s how it feels right now. It is one less point than we got at West Brom. We are still 6th, just one point behind a team with, at this stage, an 8 goal inferior goal difference. If we win against Villa on Saturday, and Liverpool lose, it’s back to one point difference. Let’s see where we are after 38 games, lick our gaping wounds for now, and look forward to the next game, a game we surely have to win after that dismal first half performance tonight.
I’m looking forward to Saturday now, twitter is off until at least this time tomorrow, and I will do my best to remain positive and upbeat about a season where we have outperformed expectations, where we’ve achieved a higher league position than most forecast, where we’ve played some of the best football I’ve ever seen us play, and certain players have developed beyond all recognition. And that just may be why it hurts so much. Our expectations were raised, and 14 years of hurt could have ended tonight, but instead it’s 15 years, and the hurt is even more excruciating.
Onwards to the next game. No recriminations. Get behind the Blues for Saturday. I’ll be the one, as usual, sat behind an effing pillar £36 lighter for the privilege.