Culture

Wembley Stadium, Saturday 30th May 2009, 2.30pm

May 30, 2009
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Fourteen years and ten days ago, I dressed my baby son in blue, propped him on the sofa next to me, and sat down to watch the FA cup final on television. We won that day, beating Manchester United 1-0, and I thought it heralded a return to our glory days of the previous decade. I was wrong: the intervening years have been entirely barren, often bringing little more than relief as each season ended. And they’ve also bred a dour cynicism among Evertonians that is proving highly resistant to even the relative success of recent years. Today, in the sunshine at Wembley, my teenage son is sitting next to me, proudly wearing an Everton shirt—and his heart on his sleeve. He hasn’t yet learnt what it means to be a Blue. Perhaps he won’t need to. There are two enduring caricatures of the typical scouser. One is high pitched, over confident, quick to take offence, and prone to extravagant emotional outbursts. That image, usually attached to our rivals in red, is the media’s favourite. But there is another, older stereotype: mordant, laconic, lower pitched. Of the two, I’m more comfortable with the latter – and today I’m in like-minded company. Anyone who has spent time in the crowd at Everton games will know what I mean. We have honed “gallows humour” to a fine art. And we’ve also grown a collective thick skin, which makes it difficult to hurt us. There’s a gleeful unassailability about being able to mock the victors and get away with it. I remember Chelsea fans fuming with uncomprehending rage as our taunts hit home – even as their side knocked us out of the cup the last time we met in this competition (I’d love to tell you what we were chanting but I’m afraid it’s unprintable). So, if we lose—that, if I’m honest, is the more likely outcome—we have the armoury to deal with it. But what if we win? Six weeks ago I began to get a sense of what that might mean. From this very seat I watched us beat Manchester United in a penalty shoot-out. The wild celebrations that followed contained an element of disbelief, and there were more than a few damp eyes as long-suppressed hopes began to surface. If we lose today it will be business as usual, and we’ll still find some way of winding up those thin-skinned Chelsea fans. But if we win, I will be in tears, and I won’t be alone.