At about 1400 hours, the teamsheets are released, and Davek’s groan is audible within a 6 mile radius as Martinez makes the courageous decision to start the man who scored a hat-trick against last season’s champions. It will be a long night on GOT.
To be fair, as soon as this match fell into my lap, you should have put your house on a scoreless draw and made yourselves rich men. The teams lined out much as we predicted, with Naismith stepping into our amorphous midfield blob instead of whatever central midfielder we had there before. To some, he’s a tireless hero who adds grit and desire to our squad, to others he looks and plays like a man whose father was luminous milk. But he made himself undroppable. Didn’t he?
We tiki’d and taka’d for about three minutes until Montero got the ball, surged down our right flank and got floored by Browning. There was reason to be concerned here. Our flanks were being protected by two talented but, ultimately, relatively untested young men. Montero runs like a man whose mother was artificially inseminated with a cannon. But our boys did alright, and served notice of our depth and a tantalising defence of the future. We dominated possession but Swansea had the pick of the early chances. Gomis scissor-kicked a cross just wide of Howard’s net, followed closely by a Barry error which Bafatimbitembatamba seized upon, but shot straight at Howard. Our only early chance of note fell to Naismith, who scuffed a good Lukaku through ball. It was all Davek needed.
Panic on 22 minutes, as a tackle by Jack Cork turned John Stones’ leg into a 19th century photo of rickets. I nearly turned to drugs. But out came the magic sponge and up rose the most loved Everton player to ever hand in a transfer request. It wasn’t a crap 0-0. Counter-attacks gave both sides reason to be hopeful. Montero’s speed gave us a plenty to think about. But likewise, our own Ross Barkley surged forward at every opportunity, picking forward passes and generally putting the willies up Swansea’s defence. Naismith hit a low drive which Lukaku obligingly redirected into Fabianski’s hands. Kone blasted a ball out of the earth. Ashley Williams set out his stall after blocking a great Lukaku chance, offered up on a plate by that stopgap-until-we-buy-a-number-10, Ross Barkley. Gomis had a good shot blocked on 45 minutes, but it was Everton fans who would have been feeling better as both teams headed down the tunnel for half-time games of gay towel.
The second half started at pace, a dangerous Ayew header going wide. Kone had probably the best chance of the game, but his legs turned to ghosts at a crucial time, as Barkley’s low, fizzing square ball eluded him. It’s a pity we’ll have to drop Barkley as soon as we get our number 10. Galloway had a great chance, as he cleverly fooled the Swansea defence, but couldn’t direct the ball into the net from a narrow angle. Those London “journalists”, who manfully worked Chelsea’s shaft all summer, were shown exactly why we held on to Stones when he made a sensational last-gasp challenge to deny Gomis an almost certain goal. HAVE IT. Barry played a great ball through to Lukaku who seemed to be having one of his customary pyjama days (Oh?).
Everton dominated the game from thereon in. Lukaku had a double chance, ultimately cleared off the line by arguable MOTM, Ashley Williams. Naismith narrowly failed to capitalize on a dangerous low ball by Deulofeu, who had come on for Kone. Lukaku got frustratingly closed down by Williams again after Barkley teed him up. If this is how good we are with Barkley, can you imagine what we’ll be like when we get our actual number 10?! The game petered out after that, both sides settling for a draw. Apart from Mirallas, our most talented player, who came on and went off again after he assassinated Barrow’s foot. It wasn’t a terrible performance, though it will undoubtedly be viewed as such by the usual elements. We made enough chances to win the game, and a point at the Liberty isn’t to be scoffed at. Cheer up, it will be alright once we get that number 10.
To be fair, as soon as this match fell into my lap, you should have put your house on a scoreless draw and made yourselves rich men. The teams lined out much as we predicted, with Naismith stepping into our amorphous midfield blob instead of whatever central midfielder we had there before. To some, he’s a tireless hero who adds grit and desire to our squad, to others he looks and plays like a man whose father was luminous milk. But he made himself undroppable. Didn’t he?
We tiki’d and taka’d for about three minutes until Montero got the ball, surged down our right flank and got floored by Browning. There was reason to be concerned here. Our flanks were being protected by two talented but, ultimately, relatively untested young men. Montero runs like a man whose mother was artificially inseminated with a cannon. But our boys did alright, and served notice of our depth and a tantalising defence of the future. We dominated possession but Swansea had the pick of the early chances. Gomis scissor-kicked a cross just wide of Howard’s net, followed closely by a Barry error which Bafatimbitembatamba seized upon, but shot straight at Howard. Our only early chance of note fell to Naismith, who scuffed a good Lukaku through ball. It was all Davek needed.
Panic on 22 minutes, as a tackle by Jack Cork turned John Stones’ leg into a 19th century photo of rickets. I nearly turned to drugs. But out came the magic sponge and up rose the most loved Everton player to ever hand in a transfer request. It wasn’t a crap 0-0. Counter-attacks gave both sides reason to be hopeful. Montero’s speed gave us a plenty to think about. But likewise, our own Ross Barkley surged forward at every opportunity, picking forward passes and generally putting the willies up Swansea’s defence. Naismith hit a low drive which Lukaku obligingly redirected into Fabianski’s hands. Kone blasted a ball out of the earth. Ashley Williams set out his stall after blocking a great Lukaku chance, offered up on a plate by that stopgap-until-we-buy-a-number-10, Ross Barkley. Gomis had a good shot blocked on 45 minutes, but it was Everton fans who would have been feeling better as both teams headed down the tunnel for half-time games of gay towel.
The second half started at pace, a dangerous Ayew header going wide. Kone had probably the best chance of the game, but his legs turned to ghosts at a crucial time, as Barkley’s low, fizzing square ball eluded him. It’s a pity we’ll have to drop Barkley as soon as we get our number 10. Galloway had a great chance, as he cleverly fooled the Swansea defence, but couldn’t direct the ball into the net from a narrow angle. Those London “journalists”, who manfully worked Chelsea’s shaft all summer, were shown exactly why we held on to Stones when he made a sensational last-gasp challenge to deny Gomis an almost certain goal. HAVE IT. Barry played a great ball through to Lukaku who seemed to be having one of his customary pyjama days (Oh?).
Everton dominated the game from thereon in. Lukaku had a double chance, ultimately cleared off the line by arguable MOTM, Ashley Williams. Naismith narrowly failed to capitalize on a dangerous low ball by Deulofeu, who had come on for Kone. Lukaku got frustratingly closed down by Williams again after Barkley teed him up. If this is how good we are with Barkley, can you imagine what we’ll be like when we get our actual number 10?! The game petered out after that, both sides settling for a draw. Apart from Mirallas, our most talented player, who came on and went off again after he assassinated Barrow’s foot. It wasn’t a terrible performance, though it will undoubtedly be viewed as such by the usual elements. We made enough chances to win the game, and a point at the Liberty isn’t to be scoffed at. Cheer up, it will be alright once we get that number 10.
