Ours I wonder? If it was goodison I would fancy us. Being at there midden and are awful defence and record......
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Ours I wonder? If it was goodison I would fancy us. Being at there midden and are awful defence and record......
Might as well flip a coin, it could be either.
True buddy. But if you go with your head I fear a battering score line
The Hibbert Agenda
Player Valuation: £20m
I think its much much better that we're at Anfield
If we put early pressure on them the crowd will get very very anxious- they haven't been happy with their performances all season
You could be right but its a derby and its on there turf and we play awful there.
The Derby; I absolutely hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it and Them.
F t m f-ing, U b, A c Red Sh!te
F t m f-ing, U b, A c Red Sh!te
Martinez saying we will go there and make "history"! Ha ha why mr Martinez are we going to get pasted by more than 4 this time?
johnnydawg68
Chairperson, People's Front of Saint Domingo
http://www.nbcsports.com/soccer/intheface
By Roger Bennett
This is what I inevitably end up feeling like as an Everton fan on the day of a Merseyside Derby. A blur of black eyes, beige wall paper, and shattered hope. Perhaps only the melancholy of Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks" can rival it as an image of human despair.
The above photograph was taken at the final whistle of Derby Day, November 6, 1983. On the back, my Dad has marked the date and carefully noted "Rog with black eye watches Liverpool 3 Everton 0," but I need no reminder. The memory remains as fresh as it was harrowing. The day before I had gained a concussion during a school rugby match. Playing fullback, I had dived in desperately like a proto-Spencer Lanning, to make a last-ditch tackle on an opposing big man, tripping him up by putting my eye-socket in front of his kneecap. I was knocked out cold, and my right-eye instantly swelled shut.
Though I had tickets for the match, I was in no fit shape to use them. Instead, I sat at home in a pair of Wrangler sweatpants and my luxury Scandinavian slippers, donning the Everton hat and scarf it had taken my mother 18 grueling months to knit.
I had been unable to sleep overnight. My head was an aching fog from concussion, but in truth, it was the threat Liverpool's attacking tandem of Kenny Dalglish and Ian Rush posed to Everton's defence that kept me awake. Come game time, only being able to see out of one eye turned out to be a blessing.
Everton were thrashed, my heroes snuffed out with barely any resistance. Clad in his tight red shorts, Ian Rush pounced within 16 minutes to punish the kind of defensive sloppiness that has defined Everton's play this season. Dalglish cut through the right flank to conjure an open goal for Michael Robinson to finish, and Stevie Nicol finished the rout by heading home at the last, with the Everton defenders looking on, as broken and defeated as we fans.
By the final whistle, Liverpool were top of the table, and Everton had plummeted to 17th place. When my father decided to take this photograph, it felt like both sides of my face had been smashed in.
That game was almost 31 years ago. But Liverpool have lost just one of the last 15 league Derbies so the feelings it conjured are all too familiar. Numbing ones of defeat, doom, impotence, and perhaps, worst of all, shattered hope. I last experienced them at Anfield back in January, typing my match report through the tears, after I had witnessed the rampant Luis Suarez, Daniel Sturridge, and Philippe Coutinho eviscerate a naive Everton 4-0, springing their counter-attacks with such punishing glee. Every time the Blues attacked, Liverpool seemed the more likely team to score.
Both teams enter Saturday's game as wounded creatures. Tim Howard kept 15 clean sheets last year, yet this season, the Everton defence carries the stench of 2012-13 Wigan, leaking 17 goals in just seven matches. A relatively stocked squad, which only six weeks ago appeared to inspire such optimism, lacks spirit, spine, and tactical cohesion.
Liverpool have also appeared all too mortal. Shorn of the defected Suarez and injured Sturridge, Brendan Rodgers has lost three of his first five league games. Yet a clash against Everton is too often the cure for what ails them. I type while braced for the irresistible Steven Gerrard Derby Day strike which has come to feel like one of nature's most inevitable laws and the very worst case: a Mario Balotelli hat trick -- especially if those goals prove to be the only ones the Italian scores this season.
A couple of years ago, I wrote about a conversation I had broached with a Liverpool supporting friend, Simon Critchley who is a philosophy professor at The New School. Critchley admitted he feels a similar sense of Derby Day doom, even as a Red. "The game," he explained, "matters too much." His final words that day have stayed with me because I believe any fan, even Arsenal or Tottenham supporters, can relate to them. "The worst part about football in general and the Derby in particular is not the disappointment, it's the endlessly renewed hope," he explained. "It's the hope that kills you."
By Roger Bennett
This is what I inevitably end up feeling like as an Everton fan on the day of a Merseyside Derby. A blur of black eyes, beige wall paper, and shattered hope. Perhaps only the melancholy of Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks" can rival it as an image of human despair.
The above photograph was taken at the final whistle of Derby Day, November 6, 1983. On the back, my Dad has marked the date and carefully noted "Rog with black eye watches Liverpool 3 Everton 0," but I need no reminder. The memory remains as fresh as it was harrowing. The day before I had gained a concussion during a school rugby match. Playing fullback, I had dived in desperately like a proto-Spencer Lanning, to make a last-ditch tackle on an opposing big man, tripping him up by putting my eye-socket in front of his kneecap. I was knocked out cold, and my right-eye instantly swelled shut.
Though I had tickets for the match, I was in no fit shape to use them. Instead, I sat at home in a pair of Wrangler sweatpants and my luxury Scandinavian slippers, donning the Everton hat and scarf it had taken my mother 18 grueling months to knit.
I had been unable to sleep overnight. My head was an aching fog from concussion, but in truth, it was the threat Liverpool's attacking tandem of Kenny Dalglish and Ian Rush posed to Everton's defence that kept me awake. Come game time, only being able to see out of one eye turned out to be a blessing.
Everton were thrashed, my heroes snuffed out with barely any resistance. Clad in his tight red shorts, Ian Rush pounced within 16 minutes to punish the kind of defensive sloppiness that has defined Everton's play this season. Dalglish cut through the right flank to conjure an open goal for Michael Robinson to finish, and Stevie Nicol finished the rout by heading home at the last, with the Everton defenders looking on, as broken and defeated as we fans.
By the final whistle, Liverpool were top of the table, and Everton had plummeted to 17th place. When my father decided to take this photograph, it felt like both sides of my face had been smashed in.
That game was almost 31 years ago. But Liverpool have lost just one of the last 15 league Derbies so the feelings it conjured are all too familiar. Numbing ones of defeat, doom, impotence, and perhaps, worst of all, shattered hope. I last experienced them at Anfield back in January, typing my match report through the tears, after I had witnessed the rampant Luis Suarez, Daniel Sturridge, and Philippe Coutinho eviscerate a naive Everton 4-0, springing their counter-attacks with such punishing glee. Every time the Blues attacked, Liverpool seemed the more likely team to score.
Both teams enter Saturday's game as wounded creatures. Tim Howard kept 15 clean sheets last year, yet this season, the Everton defence carries the stench of 2012-13 Wigan, leaking 17 goals in just seven matches. A relatively stocked squad, which only six weeks ago appeared to inspire such optimism, lacks spirit, spine, and tactical cohesion.
Liverpool have also appeared all too mortal. Shorn of the defected Suarez and injured Sturridge, Brendan Rodgers has lost three of his first five league games. Yet a clash against Everton is too often the cure for what ails them. I type while braced for the irresistible Steven Gerrard Derby Day strike which has come to feel like one of nature's most inevitable laws and the very worst case: a Mario Balotelli hat trick -- especially if those goals prove to be the only ones the Italian scores this season.
A couple of years ago, I wrote about a conversation I had broached with a Liverpool supporting friend, Simon Critchley who is a philosophy professor at The New School. Critchley admitted he feels a similar sense of Derby Day doom, even as a Red. "The game," he explained, "matters too much." His final words that day have stayed with me because I believe any fan, even Arsenal or Tottenham supporters, can relate to them. "The worst part about football in general and the Derby in particular is not the disappointment, it's the endlessly renewed hope," he explained. "It's the hope that kills you."
R.Reddington
Player Valuation: £35m
If we try and play all pretty passes and outplay them, we will not win they will just use it to their advantage. The way to win there is to play on the counter after soaking up the pressure, Mourinho did this perfectly. Don't be naive Mr.Martinez, look at Villa and how they've played there in the past seasons.
EverBlue86
Banned ( again ) for threatening behaviour
Sadly RM looks lost so far, last season he was spot on 90% of the time with team selections, substitutions and tactics this season nothing has seemed to have come off.
davek
Player Valuation: £150m
I've never got the fear of Derby Day and that 'wanting it out the way' attitude. If we ever get into a cup SF or final I dread the painful experience of losing, that's for sure. But Derbies per se, no. I'd face them 10 times a year if we could. These days the disparity in finances is an utter joke. We really shouldn't be picking up draws or the odd win. For that reason every blow we land on them is multiplied many times over in significance. It's not like we're two financial juggernauts duking it out like City-United or even Arsenal-Spurs. It's a complete mismatch. They've spent loads as usual. It's theirs to lose as it always is these days. I seriously doubt though that this Liverpool team are capable of landing hammer blows on us. And it's a great opportunity for our lads to get over there, kick them in the balls, take three points and pretty much finish any lingering hopes they had at a title tilt this season.http://www.nbcsports.com/soccer/intheface
By Roger Bennett
This is what I inevitably end up feeling like as an Everton fan on the day of a Merseyside Derby. A blur of black eyes, beige wall paper, and shattered hope. Perhaps only the melancholy of Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks" can rival it as an image of human despair.
The above photograph was taken at the final whistle of Derby Day, November 6, 1983. On the back, my Dad has marked the date and carefully noted "Rog with black eye watches Liverpool 3 Everton 0," but I need no reminder. The memory remains as fresh as it was harrowing. The day before I had gained a concussion during a school rugby match. Playing fullback, I had dived in desperately like a proto-Spencer Lanning, to make a last-ditch tackle on an opposing big man, tripping him up by putting my eye-socket in front of his kneecap. I was knocked out cold, and my right-eye instantly swelled shut.
Though I had tickets for the match, I was in no fit shape to use them. Instead, I sat at home in a pair of Wrangler sweatpants and my luxury Scandinavian slippers, donning the Everton hat and scarf it had taken my mother 18 grueling months to knit.
I had been unable to sleep overnight. My head was an aching fog from concussion, but in truth, it was the threat Liverpool's attacking tandem of Kenny Dalglish and Ian Rush posed to Everton's defence that kept me awake. Come game time, only being able to see out of one eye turned out to be a blessing.
Everton were thrashed, my heroes snuffed out with barely any resistance. Clad in his tight red shorts, Ian Rush pounced within 16 minutes to punish the kind of defensive sloppiness that has defined Everton's play this season. Dalglish cut through the right flank to conjure an open goal for Michael Robinson to finish, and Stevie Nicol finished the rout by heading home at the last, with the Everton defenders looking on, as broken and defeated as we fans.
By the final whistle, Liverpool were top of the table, and Everton had plummeted to 17th place. When my father decided to take this photograph, it felt like both sides of my face had been smashed in.
That game was almost 31 years ago. But Liverpool have lost just one of the last 15 league Derbies so the feelings it conjured are all too familiar. Numbing ones of defeat, doom, impotence, and perhaps, worst of all, shattered hope. I last experienced them at Anfield back in January, typing my match report through the tears, after I had witnessed the rampant Luis Suarez, Daniel Sturridge, and Philippe Coutinho eviscerate a naive Everton 4-0, springing their counter-attacks with such punishing glee. Every time the Blues attacked, Liverpool seemed the more likely team to score.
Both teams enter Saturday's game as wounded creatures. Tim Howard kept 15 clean sheets last year, yet this season, the Everton defence carries the stench of 2012-13 Wigan, leaking 17 goals in just seven matches. A relatively stocked squad, which only six weeks ago appeared to inspire such optimism, lacks spirit, spine, and tactical cohesion.
Liverpool have also appeared all too mortal. Shorn of the defected Suarez and injured Sturridge, Brendan Rodgers has lost three of his first five league games. Yet a clash against Everton is too often the cure for what ails them. I type while braced for the irresistible Steven Gerrard Derby Day strike which has come to feel like one of nature's most inevitable laws and the very worst case: a Mario Balotelli hat trick -- especially if those goals prove to be the only ones the Italian scores this season.
A couple of years ago, I wrote about a conversation I had broached with a Liverpool supporting friend, Simon Critchley who is a philosophy professor at The New School. Critchley admitted he feels a similar sense of Derby Day doom, even as a Red. "The game," he explained, "matters too much." His final words that day have stayed with me because I believe any fan, even Arsenal or Tottenham supporters, can relate to them. "The worst part about football in general and the Derby in particular is not the disappointment, it's the endlessly renewed hope," he explained. "It's the hope that kills you."
Everything to gain; nothing to lose. I'll take that.
Anyone know how good Basel are, especially at home?
On current form Liverpool don't look likely to take points off Real Madrid and struggled against Ludogrets at home - hoping that Rodgers will want to play a full strength side against Basel midweek so might not gamble on Sturridge's fitness.
On current form Liverpool don't look likely to take points off Real Madrid and struggled against Ludogrets at home - hoping that Rodgers will want to play a full strength side against Basel midweek so might not gamble on Sturridge's fitness.
Jags..class
Player Valuation: £70m
The last time we won at Anfield was on the 27th September, tiny bit of hope which is also my birthday.
Springhettios
Player Valuation: £750k
Lets do this BLUES!!!! Naisy to slot home!!!
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