Manchester City came to this costume party dressed up as league leaders. The commentators played along, saying, “Ooh, my, aren't they scary? This is surely Everton's toughest home match this year.†Everton, for their part, arrived dressed as caged tigers. Gone was the feckless Saha, and in his place was Stracqualursi up front and the rabid Drenthe in midfield. Although Cahill was in the lineup, without Saha's broken-bone necklace chained around his neck he was back to throwing himself about the pitch like a wild aborigine.
The posers in pale blue did what any masked dandy would do when thrown into such a circumstance; they pissed themselves and tried to flee. However, thanks to Operation Goodison, all the exits were barred, and urged on by their cowering flounce of a manager they ran around the pitch screaming like coeds in a horror movie. Everton chased after them, except for Gibson, who, surprised by City's reaction to the big game stood around with his hands on his hips and his mouth agape for the first 18 minutes. It wasn't until Drenthe took a bite out of his ankle that Gibson finally began to jog about the pitch to see if he could catch a blue fairey for himself. Tim Howard's role in this match appeared to be just to toss the City players back into play whenever they showed up at his goalmouth quivering for shelter.
If you have ever watched a lion tamer in action, it is not until the lion has worn himself out that the lion tamer finally puts down the whip and chair, pulls up his panty hose and takes a peak into the mouth of the lion. Everton, disgusted by the cowardice of the “League Leaders†and exhausted from the hunt, soon lay down in the tall grass, panting. Oh, didn't THAT bring out the bravery in these prancing ninnies veiled in fainted blue. They even dared to take the football from Everton and possess it at a 70 percent to 30 percent clip. A few of them even approached Howard and took a shot at his goal while the others leered at him, laughed and threatened to scratch out his eyes. This brought the other Everton players' heads up, and they rose from the grass and into a crouch. Suddenly, Bill Kenwright, seeking his own sanctuary from the Blue Union rushed the pitch and handcuffed himself to Howard's goalpost, swallowed the key to the cuffs and chased it down with a handful of Big Macs and Chicken Nuggets, and puffed pastry and a jug of whine. The ref blew for halftime and the City players stood back and watched warily as Everton strode to the locker room.
Halftime
City took to the pitch for the second half inspired by their managers stirring rendition of “Oh, Solo Mio†during the break. However, Everton responded by slapping them around like they were Harry Redknapp's saggy, excessive jowels. Phil Neville was repeatedly kicking the ball into City players' faces and out of touch, Fellaini walloped Davy Jones, from The Monkeys, in the penalty area, no call, and Tim Howard punched Lescott in the head, explaining to the ref that he thought it was one of those “spikey voodoo dolls†The ref listened to Lescott's complaints and then yellow-carded him for having an illegal bulge in his face.
In the 59th minute there was a sudden buzz around the stadium. When people looked around to see what the cause for all the commotion was, they saw that Drenthe had gotten hold of a football. Oh, he was so proud of himself! He kicked it about, strutted, pranced, and pawed it, and asked the City players if they would like to try and take it from him. They responded with a mass quivering of the lips, and the show of cowardice so enraged Drenthe that he raced the length of the pitch with his prize. The City players bravely tried to stop him by playing dead, and when Drenthe finally got near City's goal he became bored with his new toy and gave it to Leighton Baines. Baines sent a long cross to Donavon out of the right. For some reason Donavon seemed puzzled by the ball so he passed it to Gibson. The look of triumph that creased the ugliness in his face would wound a grizzly bear, and Gibson gave the ball a tremendous smack. The ball flew at the net, gave an insulting slap to a City player and then clocked the back of the net sending alarm bells going off around the City of Manchester. City responded by taking off their best players and putting women and children onto the pitch for the remainder. Mancini's head drooped, and he muttered “No mas.†(But in Italian)
Goodison was a bright light of lit torches, feasting and singing. As the City players clumped toward the tunnel, one of the stewards told them, “Nice costumes.â€
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The posers in pale blue did what any masked dandy would do when thrown into such a circumstance; they pissed themselves and tried to flee. However, thanks to Operation Goodison, all the exits were barred, and urged on by their cowering flounce of a manager they ran around the pitch screaming like coeds in a horror movie. Everton chased after them, except for Gibson, who, surprised by City's reaction to the big game stood around with his hands on his hips and his mouth agape for the first 18 minutes. It wasn't until Drenthe took a bite out of his ankle that Gibson finally began to jog about the pitch to see if he could catch a blue fairey for himself. Tim Howard's role in this match appeared to be just to toss the City players back into play whenever they showed up at his goalmouth quivering for shelter.
If you have ever watched a lion tamer in action, it is not until the lion has worn himself out that the lion tamer finally puts down the whip and chair, pulls up his panty hose and takes a peak into the mouth of the lion. Everton, disgusted by the cowardice of the “League Leaders†and exhausted from the hunt, soon lay down in the tall grass, panting. Oh, didn't THAT bring out the bravery in these prancing ninnies veiled in fainted blue. They even dared to take the football from Everton and possess it at a 70 percent to 30 percent clip. A few of them even approached Howard and took a shot at his goal while the others leered at him, laughed and threatened to scratch out his eyes. This brought the other Everton players' heads up, and they rose from the grass and into a crouch. Suddenly, Bill Kenwright, seeking his own sanctuary from the Blue Union rushed the pitch and handcuffed himself to Howard's goalpost, swallowed the key to the cuffs and chased it down with a handful of Big Macs and Chicken Nuggets, and puffed pastry and a jug of whine. The ref blew for halftime and the City players stood back and watched warily as Everton strode to the locker room.
Halftime
City took to the pitch for the second half inspired by their managers stirring rendition of “Oh, Solo Mio†during the break. However, Everton responded by slapping them around like they were Harry Redknapp's saggy, excessive jowels. Phil Neville was repeatedly kicking the ball into City players' faces and out of touch, Fellaini walloped Davy Jones, from The Monkeys, in the penalty area, no call, and Tim Howard punched Lescott in the head, explaining to the ref that he thought it was one of those “spikey voodoo dolls†The ref listened to Lescott's complaints and then yellow-carded him for having an illegal bulge in his face.
In the 59th minute there was a sudden buzz around the stadium. When people looked around to see what the cause for all the commotion was, they saw that Drenthe had gotten hold of a football. Oh, he was so proud of himself! He kicked it about, strutted, pranced, and pawed it, and asked the City players if they would like to try and take it from him. They responded with a mass quivering of the lips, and the show of cowardice so enraged Drenthe that he raced the length of the pitch with his prize. The City players bravely tried to stop him by playing dead, and when Drenthe finally got near City's goal he became bored with his new toy and gave it to Leighton Baines. Baines sent a long cross to Donavon out of the right. For some reason Donavon seemed puzzled by the ball so he passed it to Gibson. The look of triumph that creased the ugliness in his face would wound a grizzly bear, and Gibson gave the ball a tremendous smack. The ball flew at the net, gave an insulting slap to a City player and then clocked the back of the net sending alarm bells going off around the City of Manchester. City responded by taking off their best players and putting women and children onto the pitch for the remainder. Mancini's head drooped, and he muttered “No mas.†(But in Italian)
Goodison was a bright light of lit torches, feasting and singing. As the City players clumped toward the tunnel, one of the stewards told them, “Nice costumes.â€
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