trebilcock66
Player Valuation: £8m
This is a thread written for the indulgence of those Evertonians old enough to remember and for the younger readers perhaps to envy.
1966 - perhaps the happiest summer of my life. (Must make sure the wife and children don't read this.....)
My 11 plus was in the future (just). I had few cares other than Alex Young's fitness and whether Fred Pickering would get picked for Wembley.
After the greatest cup final I can ever recall, the summer settled to waiting for the World Cup. And just for a few weeks, the eyes of the world were on Goodison Park.
All because of one word - Pele.
Although a scouser, I grew up on the other side of Warrington (less of the wool jokes please....). Just as likely to meet a Man U or Man City fan at school as a kopite or a blue.
But it meant that my house was a few miles from the hotel where Brazil were staying in Lymm. My dad took me on various visits to try to meet the great man but we never succeeded. Instead I got the autographs of Alcindo, Edu and Denillson (still got them today). There was a lad who lived across the road from the hotel who'd actually kicked a ball around with Pele and had his autograph five times. But I don't recall being jealous.....just excited to be in the company of this revered team.
Dad took me to Goodison for Hungary v Brazil and we queued for cash entry but didn't get in. Dashed back home to catch the second half on TV. I never got to see him in the flesh
Followed all the subsequent games on TV - except the final. Somehow my parents had contrived that we'd be on holiday in Devon on the day of the final. So I listened to that on a dodgy radio connection on a beach called Woody Bay. Still enjoyed it as only a child can - didn't really know what I was missing.
I knew Alan Ball was a bit special. Earlier that season, Blackpool had come to Goodison (can't recall the score but it may have been the game in which Derek Temple contrived to miss the sittingest of sitters and we lost 0-1?). But, sitting next to me in the GSE stand Dad pointed out this flame haired player and said, "Watch that number 8 lad. Great player" Thanks Dad.
So I wasn't surprised that he ran the game at Wembley that day. Even though I wasn't present at the most famous game in English football history, I still enjoyed it with a whole-heartedness born of my youth. Happy, sunny, carefree days.
I spent the rest of that summer biking with friends in the lanes near where I lived....each day apparently sunnier than the last. At least that's how I recall it!
Fast forward a few weeks. TV screen showing the 9 o'cock news. After Rhodesia and other political rubbish, a photograph of Alan Ball flashed up and I suddenly starting paying attention. The caption read £110,000. I heard the word Everton and Harry Catterick in there somewhere. Harry had done it again - done his transfer work quietly and then made a surprise announcement.
I gasped as the enormity of it sunk in. We'd signed the best player in England. The Liverpool fans in my family now say that they knew that this wasn't good news for them. And so it proved.
The sun was still shining when we played Liverpool in the league in Sept (I'll swerve the Charity Shield game, shall I?) and Alan Ball made himself properly at home. His true and only home. 3-1.
And I knew we were on the edge of greatness.
Despite the success of the 80's I've been waiting for a reprise ever since of those sun-blessed days.
Here's hoping for next season. We may not have Alan Ball anymore, sadly. But I can't stop the optimism rising in my chest.
50 years on, we may just be on our way back.
1966 - perhaps the happiest summer of my life. (Must make sure the wife and children don't read this.....)
My 11 plus was in the future (just). I had few cares other than Alex Young's fitness and whether Fred Pickering would get picked for Wembley.
After the greatest cup final I can ever recall, the summer settled to waiting for the World Cup. And just for a few weeks, the eyes of the world were on Goodison Park.
All because of one word - Pele.
Although a scouser, I grew up on the other side of Warrington (less of the wool jokes please....). Just as likely to meet a Man U or Man City fan at school as a kopite or a blue.
But it meant that my house was a few miles from the hotel where Brazil were staying in Lymm. My dad took me on various visits to try to meet the great man but we never succeeded. Instead I got the autographs of Alcindo, Edu and Denillson (still got them today). There was a lad who lived across the road from the hotel who'd actually kicked a ball around with Pele and had his autograph five times. But I don't recall being jealous.....just excited to be in the company of this revered team.
Dad took me to Goodison for Hungary v Brazil and we queued for cash entry but didn't get in. Dashed back home to catch the second half on TV. I never got to see him in the flesh
Followed all the subsequent games on TV - except the final. Somehow my parents had contrived that we'd be on holiday in Devon on the day of the final. So I listened to that on a dodgy radio connection on a beach called Woody Bay. Still enjoyed it as only a child can - didn't really know what I was missing.
I knew Alan Ball was a bit special. Earlier that season, Blackpool had come to Goodison (can't recall the score but it may have been the game in which Derek Temple contrived to miss the sittingest of sitters and we lost 0-1?). But, sitting next to me in the GSE stand Dad pointed out this flame haired player and said, "Watch that number 8 lad. Great player" Thanks Dad.
So I wasn't surprised that he ran the game at Wembley that day. Even though I wasn't present at the most famous game in English football history, I still enjoyed it with a whole-heartedness born of my youth. Happy, sunny, carefree days.
I spent the rest of that summer biking with friends in the lanes near where I lived....each day apparently sunnier than the last. At least that's how I recall it!
Fast forward a few weeks. TV screen showing the 9 o'cock news. After Rhodesia and other political rubbish, a photograph of Alan Ball flashed up and I suddenly starting paying attention. The caption read £110,000. I heard the word Everton and Harry Catterick in there somewhere. Harry had done it again - done his transfer work quietly and then made a surprise announcement.
I gasped as the enormity of it sunk in. We'd signed the best player in England. The Liverpool fans in my family now say that they knew that this wasn't good news for them. And so it proved.
The sun was still shining when we played Liverpool in the league in Sept (I'll swerve the Charity Shield game, shall I?) and Alan Ball made himself properly at home. His true and only home. 3-1.
And I knew we were on the edge of greatness.
Despite the success of the 80's I've been waiting for a reprise ever since of those sun-blessed days.
Here's hoping for next season. We may not have Alan Ball anymore, sadly. But I can't stop the optimism rising in my chest.
50 years on, we may just be on our way back.
