Hands up… I’m a Norwich City supporter. Some of you may already know this – I’ve mentioned it a couple of times – but in the relatively short time I’ve covered the Toffees, I’ve developed an affection for them.
If that sounds like me sucking up, maybe a bit, but…
In truth, that affection has always been there… I’m a sucker for an underdog, and I’ve always admired the stoicism of Evertonians as they suck up the whooping and hollering that once occurred at the other end of Stanley Park, and now just occurs.
But never has the lot of Everton fans resonated with me quite like it does now. It always did, way back — just for Everton, rather than for ‘my Everton.’
As a Norwich fan, I know the score when it comes to noisy neighbours who have more stars on their replica shirts than you do. I know that feeling of being constantly derided and mocked, of being made to feel ‘small.’
I’m not pretending that Norwich and Everton are similar in size – clearly they’re not – but the frustrations are the same, or at least have been.
Under the ownership of the redoubtable but ‘poor’ Delia Smith, we occasionally punched above our weight, which was fun, but generally it was a period of austerity where the most overused phase in my Norwich City columns was ‘not a pot to pee in.’
It made the Cameron/Osborne era look like an Elton John spend-a-thon. So, I get it when transfer windows drag on, and little happens even though you’re shopping in Lidl.
I know how it feels when you idly sit by, regularly refreshing your device in vain, while neighbours and rivals take the Elton route in Waitrose.
It stinks… and is why I’ve felt for Evertonians during this window as I scrape the internet for the tiniest scraps of news that I can turn into a sprint article worthy of the name and worthy of Evertonians, while sometimes falling foul of those whose breaking news I feed upon for the stray word here or a slight (unintentional) over-exaggeration there.
None of this is really about football. It’s about what it’s like following a club that isn’t one of the “big boys.” Not right now, anyway… and you Evertonians know that better than most.
Norwich taught me that. Everton have had their own version of it for years, just on a bigger stage. “Same old Everton” is, I gather, an Evertonian mantra and I get why. I didn’t need that explained to me.
What tipped it from mild sympathy into something more was doing this job. Writing about this club every day, you pick up on things you’d never notice as a casual fan.
- What Hill Dickinson actually means to people who spent their whole lives at Goodison.
- What it means that Moyes came back a second time, when he knew exactly what he was walking into.
- Why some still love him, but many are tired of the Moyes way.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped being able to write about Everton as if it were just another club on my list. I also write about Man City – sorry – and have not the slightest pang of affection.
I’m not calling myself an Evertonian. That’s not up to me, and it’s definitely not up to someone who’s never stood on Gwladys Street.
But I’d rather be upfront about it than keep pretending I’m neutral. Norwich comes first. Always will.
Everton’s stopped being just a job, though. You’re an admirable bunch.
