The Great Escapes

[Cork Evertonian]

Yeah as you guessed from the thread title, this is about our last day matches in 1994 and 1998 when we were staring relegation in the face.It's pretty scary to think how close we came to it, because it might have finished off Everton.But thankfully everything worked out fine in the end!The purpose of this thread is not to revel in negativity but i would just like to hear peoples stories about those day's.The fans climbing the trees at Stanley Park to try and get a view of the action.Brian Labone pacing up and down Goodison Road because he wasn't able to stick out the last 10 minutes.They were two horrible day's but they were memorable and happy occasions at the same time if that makes sense.I'll just say this much didn't Gareth Farrely pick the right match to score his only goal for Everton?

 

[Raymondo077]

Were still in the top flight, stop sweating my Irish buddy..

 

[BiggyRat]

The Great Escapes

I thought this would be a Sissoko type thread...

 

[Eggs]

...thanks for this, makes my stomach turn thinking of them. Poor Brian Labone cutting a lonesome and nervous figure walking along Goodison Rd because he couldn't watch the final moments of the Coventry game sums it up for me. Great picture is that one.

 

[The Penalty Box Dancer]

Was only young in 1994 but I remember listening to the game whilst playing football, listening to the goals going in giving us victory. For the Coventry game I was a season ticket holder but was still young then, I was on holiday and missed that game so I watched it in the pub and it was nerving. If that Chelsea and Bolton game had been slightly different who knows how bad the late 90's would have been.

 

[jaycee]

The Wimbledon game,even at 2-0 down I never felt we were going to drop,there was an air of defiance from early morning,but the Coventry match felt like attending a funeral,as if our time had come,also have to pay respect to Chelseas manager for saying it was only fair they put out a strong side,two fingers to the Chelsea fans booing there own side though

 

[bernie inn]

Didn't Bolton have a goal judged not to have crossed the line, at Goodison that year, that would have kept them up?

 

[Lee Smith]

I was only 14 for the Wimbledon game but I remember it vividly. We were visiting my nan's in Great Yarmouth and had left her house at 2-0 down, my dad was almost in tears (I'd only ever seen him cry once, when my Grandad had died). We were listening to it on the radio in the car and as we were crossing over Breydon Bridge, we scored our 3rd. My dad literally took his hands off the wheel and started celebrating wildly. The car started to veer left and my mum screamed "GRAHHHHHAM!!!!!" just before my dad grabbed hold of the wheel again to prevent us all suffering a horrible drowning death in the river Yare.

 

[jaycee]

Didn't Bolton have a goal judged not to have crossed the line, at Goodison that year, that would have kept them up?

It was at Bolton against Everton bernie

 

[bernie inn]

Aha yes that's it

 

[Badge1878]

For the Wimbledon game, I thought we had gone 0-2 down and out of it. I could hear the Kopites who had tickets in the Upper Bullens starting with their songs.

Few remember but it was pay on the gate for visiting fans and for many of those lovable little rouges from across the Park, this was one game they weren't going to miss.

I tried to leave when their second went in - I was in bits - but I saw the gates were still locked shut, so I ran back to my seat pretending to my mates I'd been the toilet and let out a booming 'Everrrrton'

To say I enjoyed that night, would be one of the biggest understatements of my life. We were off into Town to get twisted and enjoy the celebrations. Came home Sunday morning still singing.

For those horrible gloating cretins who claimed to be from Lewisham rather than Litherland you cemented my hatred of all of what you stand for to this day. I'd like to think I've had my own back on a few occasions since but my inner hatred stems from what you were doing that day.

Coventry. It rained all day. From the funeral parlour of a pub we began drinking outside at 9.30am until we got back early evening. Most of us were on the pitch at the end, dancing and hugging. I started in the Park End and left via the Gwladys St having skidded, danced, skipped and slipped the whole length of the pitch.

That was one lucky escape that year because I've seen some bad teams over my years but that one is right up (down) there with the best (worst) of them.

My memory is probably failing but did John Oster really play the most games of any outfield player that season?

 

[Mikey_Fitzgerald]

They definitely contributed to me becoming an Evertonian

You'd think they would have scared me off, but then again I've not always been known for rational thought...

Defiance and fighting from underneath defined the club for a generation of fans. I think it's always easier to find an affinity for a club doing really well and wallowing in success or one doing really poorly and staving off destruction at every turn

Club's in the middle of the pack are just less exciting or interesting at the end of the day

 

[Roztitute]

For the Wimbledon game, I thought we had gone 0-2 down and out of it. I could hear the Kopites who had tickets in the Upper Bullens starting with their songs.

Few remember but it was pay on the gate for visiting fans and for many of those lovable little rouges from across the Park, this was one game they weren't going to miss.

I tried to leave when their second went in - I was in bits - but I saw the gates were still locked shut, so I ran back to my seat pretending to my mates I'd been the toilet and let out a booming 'Everrrrton'

To say I enjoyed that night, would be one of the biggest understatements of my life. We were off into Town to get twisted and enjoy the celebrations. Came home Sunday morning still singing.

For those horrible gloating cretins who claimed to be from Lewisham rather than Litherland you cemented my hatred of all of what you stand for to this day. I'd like to think I've had my own back on a few occasions since but my inner hatred stems from what you were doing that day.

Coventry. It rained all day. From the funeral parlour of a pub we began drinking outside at 9.30am until we got back early evening. Most of us were on the pitch at the end, dancing and hugging. I started in the Park End and left via the Gwladys St having skidded, danced, skipped and slipped the whole length of the pitch.

That was one lucky escape that year because I've seen some bad teams over my years but that one is right up (down) there with the best (worst) of them.

My memory is probably failing but did John Oster really play the most games of any outfield player that season?

Great story, enjoyed reading that.

I was too young to remember these games by oh man, the stress would've been too much for me to bear now.

 

[COYBL25]

I don't know why, but I wasn't that worried about the Coventry game, but the Wimbledon game will be burnt into my mind forever.

The Wimbledon team bus going on fire the night before at the hotel in Daresbury, the lads up the trees in Stanley Park, trying anything to watch the game.

The feeling of utter despair when their second goal went in, then the mayhem when our third went in.

People everywhere crying and hugging strangers at the end.

Then into town for one of the biggest party nights ever.

The cars up and down Hardman St, horns blaring and flags out of the Windows / sunroofs.

The city centre was blue that night, not an RS in sight

 

[Mikey_Fitzgerald]

For the Wimbledon game, I thought we had gone 0-2 down and out of it. I could hear the Kopites who had tickets in the Upper Bullens starting with their songs.

Few remember but it was pay on the gate for visiting fans and for many of those lovable little rouges from across the Park, this was one game they weren't going to miss.

I tried to leave when their second went in - I was in bits - but I saw the gates were still locked shut, so I ran back to my seat pretending to my mates I'd been the toilet and let out a booming 'Everrrrton'

To say I enjoyed that night, would be one of the biggest understatements of my life. We were off into Town to get twisted and enjoy the celebrations. Came home Sunday morning still singing.

For those horrible gloating cretins who claimed to be from Lewisham rather than Litherland you cemented my hatred of all of what you stand for to this day. I'd like to think I've had my own back on a few occasions since but my inner hatred stems from what you were doing that day.

Coventry. It rained all day. From the funeral parlour of a pub we began drinking outside at 9.30am until we got back early evening. Most of us were on the pitch at the end, dancing and hugging. I started in the Park End and left via the Gwladys St having skidded, danced, skipped and slipped the whole length of the pitch.

That was one lucky escape that year because I've seen some bad teams over my years but that one is right up (down) there with the best (worst) of them.

My memory is probably failing but did John Oster really play the most games of any outfield player that season?

To be fair, if Liverpool were going to be relegated at Anfield, I wonder how many Blues would turn down a ticket?