McBain
Player Valuation: £80m
Is that Mrs McB dancing with Stephen Fry out in the middle of Glebe Point Road? Why is he starting to take off his top? I wake suddenly. It’s Four AM here you absolute monsters. I pop a pod in the coffee dooberwacky and set some milk to froth. Do they recycle these things? Ive heard they might not. Wouldn’t be Nestle’s first crime against Humanity so I ponder this thought. Everton. Oh yeah Thats’s why I’m here. It’s nice out now, the humidity of the day replaced with overnight drizzle and fresh breezes. I take a sip, settle in, and set my computer to stream.
There’s no FA Cup anywhere on the TV, so it's all I got, Officer.
I find something not resembling a Jackson Pollock, in good time for once and settle in to be entertained/horrified. It’s the same starting line-up as last week in the same formation as last ever. Joel Robles, always reminding me of a Fifa ’99 player rendering, was emboldened during the week with his Managers backing and starts in goal, Coleman he of the one facial expression, 600 game Jags, Cult Video Shop Tape Funes Mori and lately not so interestingly haired Oviedo across the back. Barry and McCarthy boringly sitting in front of them with Cleverly, Lennon, Barkley and Lukaku forming the Oh So Now Flying Fearsome Front Four. Everton’s numbering system is just weird. McCarthy at 16 and Oviedo at 8? Lukaku as a number 10? Barkley 20? Silly, silly numbers everyone. Someone needs to sit them down and show them what the true greats wear, and have worn on their backs.
The game from the off settles into an all familiar rhythm. All the possession with all the intent and all the movement for none of the results. We dictate play without stretching them. We Parry and thrust and tappa tappa tappa about the park and win it back well, but it’s Bournemouth who have the first strike on goal. They’ve also got a player called McDonald with really really red hair. I’ll bet you right now he’s Scottish. O’Kane? Heard that name before. Distin. Gosling. We are Bournemouth’s John West. Then they get a corner and it’s handball in the box by McCarthy. Penalty to the Bournemouth. Oh JESUS. Daniels steps up and so, in turn, does Robles. Pivotal. Further rubbing in to Martinez the points he could have saved us, Robles saves deftly to his left from a telegraphed Daniels spotty and we head to the break nil nil. He cops a tonguey from James and some eskimo kisses from the rest. Lukarkley isn’t quite finding itself, but the signs are there. Signs we might lose this one again.
The second half starts really well, we look up for it finally and in minute 54 of 90, Ross the Boss loops it right over Frederici with a big toe from Gosling adding the flavour. Goal. 0-1 the us. Bournemouth make a couple of changes with the Old Mc Ranga going off for the Australian looking Ritchie and someone else disappearing for the grokish throwback to 1980s Murray. The game opens up and it’s starting to get good. We decide to give the B-Men that ball for a spell and it pays dividends. Lukaku slots but is adjudged offside in the 56th. Stanislas flashes a deflected free kick wide and Gosling smashes the resulting short corner into the side netting.
On ’71 Gosling heads a 6 yarder straight into Robles, or it’s actually Robles gravity enveloping Goslings header. On 75 it’s the smoothest move of the game with Lennon cutting inside and finding McCarthy who gives it back to him on the fly. He steps around a challenge and feeds Barkley, unmarked at one of those angles just right for the cross keeper slot but he fluffs it. We get a corner and from the mini scramble Lukaku fires home his 21st of the campaign with his right clog. 0-2 to the Blues. Taxi!
Lukarkley head off in the 80th, job done, game over according to our commentator. He just had to say it. Replaced by Mirallas and new man Niasse. Looks rangy limbed, a fighter of the loose ball and has some decent touches to give us a look at him. He looks alright. Mirallas tries to hit the Floodlights and its all over. On to the next round and onto the next opponents. If we can only start to get something at home, we may have a chance.
The Sun is rising here and the loud birds we have are just starting to sing. For Everton. The day has started off just right with an Everton win. Bonzer.
Bournemouth 0 - Everton 2
x
There’s no FA Cup anywhere on the TV, so it's all I got, Officer.
I find something not resembling a Jackson Pollock, in good time for once and settle in to be entertained/horrified. It’s the same starting line-up as last week in the same formation as last ever. Joel Robles, always reminding me of a Fifa ’99 player rendering, was emboldened during the week with his Managers backing and starts in goal, Coleman he of the one facial expression, 600 game Jags, Cult Video Shop Tape Funes Mori and lately not so interestingly haired Oviedo across the back. Barry and McCarthy boringly sitting in front of them with Cleverly, Lennon, Barkley and Lukaku forming the Oh So Now Flying Fearsome Front Four. Everton’s numbering system is just weird. McCarthy at 16 and Oviedo at 8? Lukaku as a number 10? Barkley 20? Silly, silly numbers everyone. Someone needs to sit them down and show them what the true greats wear, and have worn on their backs.
The game from the off settles into an all familiar rhythm. All the possession with all the intent and all the movement for none of the results. We dictate play without stretching them. We Parry and thrust and tappa tappa tappa about the park and win it back well, but it’s Bournemouth who have the first strike on goal. They’ve also got a player called McDonald with really really red hair. I’ll bet you right now he’s Scottish. O’Kane? Heard that name before. Distin. Gosling. We are Bournemouth’s John West. Then they get a corner and it’s handball in the box by McCarthy. Penalty to the Bournemouth. Oh JESUS. Daniels steps up and so, in turn, does Robles. Pivotal. Further rubbing in to Martinez the points he could have saved us, Robles saves deftly to his left from a telegraphed Daniels spotty and we head to the break nil nil. He cops a tonguey from James and some eskimo kisses from the rest. Lukarkley isn’t quite finding itself, but the signs are there. Signs we might lose this one again.
The second half starts really well, we look up for it finally and in minute 54 of 90, Ross the Boss loops it right over Frederici with a big toe from Gosling adding the flavour. Goal. 0-1 the us. Bournemouth make a couple of changes with the Old Mc Ranga going off for the Australian looking Ritchie and someone else disappearing for the grokish throwback to 1980s Murray. The game opens up and it’s starting to get good. We decide to give the B-Men that ball for a spell and it pays dividends. Lukaku slots but is adjudged offside in the 56th. Stanislas flashes a deflected free kick wide and Gosling smashes the resulting short corner into the side netting.
On ’71 Gosling heads a 6 yarder straight into Robles, or it’s actually Robles gravity enveloping Goslings header. On 75 it’s the smoothest move of the game with Lennon cutting inside and finding McCarthy who gives it back to him on the fly. He steps around a challenge and feeds Barkley, unmarked at one of those angles just right for the cross keeper slot but he fluffs it. We get a corner and from the mini scramble Lukaku fires home his 21st of the campaign with his right clog. 0-2 to the Blues. Taxi!
Lukarkley head off in the 80th, job done, game over according to our commentator. He just had to say it. Replaced by Mirallas and new man Niasse. Looks rangy limbed, a fighter of the loose ball and has some decent touches to give us a look at him. He looks alright. Mirallas tries to hit the Floodlights and its all over. On to the next round and onto the next opponents. If we can only start to get something at home, we may have a chance.
The Sun is rising here and the loud birds we have are just starting to sing. For Everton. The day has started off just right with an Everton win. Bonzer.
Bournemouth 0 - Everton 2
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