I really should take my own advice: when I don’t pay attention to Everton, they win. When I watch/care, they lose. Before this Saturday I’d seen them play twice in London (losing 3-0 to Chelsea at Stamford Bridge, and losing 2-0 to Fulham at Loftus Road), so the omens for Fulham vs Everton at Craven Cottage on Saturday afternoon weren’t good. Still, given that we’re currently sitting happily in fourth place, and Fulham weren’t even certain of staying in the Premiership next season before the game, I expected at least to see us put up some kind of fight. I should have known better, though, and so it was that I spent a couple of hours sitting directly behind one of the goals listening to shouts of “Champions League? You’re having a larf!” from several thousand people sitting behind me ringing in my ears.
Still, this gave me a chance to reflect at length on the moronic thought processes of the average football fan. (Of course, it makes perfect sense that a bloke sitting in the stand at one end of the pitch is better placed to call an offside decision than the bloke running up and down on the line a few feet away from the incident…)
Many of the comments from the home supporters concentrated on Everton’s propensity for playing the long ball game: a valid point, admittedly, but surely you’re stretching that point slightly if you sarcastically shout “Go on, hoof it up the field” at our goalkeeper as he’s about to take a goal kick: what did you expect Nigel Martyn to do, Mr Generic Fulham Supporter: dribble it up to the other end of the pitch and score a goal?
Of course I’m sure that there’s no element of jealously involved in the fact that a team with similarly meagre resources has somehow managed to end the season so much higher up the table than a certain west London team flirting with relegation: a comment like “Everton’s football is, as I expected it to be, absolutely atrocious…” is just a simple unbiased value judgement.
Obviously.