Its fucking smashing when you slot early in a game. It relieves the pressure from the players and fans shoulders alike and everyone can then concentrate on what they are there for in the first place, a bit of sexy football and some one song support. As is always the case though, especially with the blues, no matter who we are playing, you cant help but feeling we've scored too early. Immediately after the goal though and almost exclusively up until half time, Everton surprisingly looked the most likely to score with Velios and Rodwell both wasting decent opportunities to double their lead.
Out of the changes that were made, Velios in particular looked pretty raw and every inch a youthful hundred grand signing up top on his own. But in he came and his performance was one of honesty and a willingness to put a shift in. It was maybe a trigger to a moment later in the game involving another Everton striker which had significant consequences on the day for both sides. Fulham in the meantime were starting to push and probe Everton all over the pitch in the second half and were able to bring on a centre forward priced at £10 million, which according to his shirt was named 'Bryan'. On 70 miuntes, belying his mundane moniker and with one of his first touches, he exquisitely lobbed a twitchy camouflaged seagull ala Davor Suker in his Real Madrid pomp. Some say he didn't mean it, I say: fuck off Everton another beautiful first goal gifted to some tit for their club who will probably never score again.
On the game went and more and more pressure was put on the visitors goal, surely it was only a matter of time before Moyes and his layabouts imploded and gifted their hosts a satisfying last gasp home win? But....when, in the 89th minute you sit in row Zed and the ball hits your head, that's Zamora...absolutely fucking throwing the game away for his team, the freaky looking Blood or Crip, he should play with an upside down bandanna on, the beautiful gozzy bastard. It wasn't as bad as Torres, but it was fucking funny. A relieved Tim Howard webbed the ball upfield and a benched Cahill and Saha combined mercilessly to snatch a win from the jaws of defeat. Not content with rubbing Tamara and Tarquins snouts in the mud, Jack Rodwell managed to find a freshly laid Cow shite to slam their kippers into. Get in you beautiful blue bellends.
Seasons can turn around on misses/goals/games like these. Unless you have wounded league title holders to face at home next.
Keep the faith.
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