And you may ask yourself: ‘My god, what have I done?’
The last time we typed some letters and spaces and punctuation into this little corner of the internet, we were patting Oumar Niasse on the head for his goal against Sunderland while simultaneously dreading a home game against Burnley.
So, has much happened since then?
Probably the best way of summing up the whole Everton-sitch is by asking, ‘When we were getting praised for ‘doing our business early’ in the summer, could you have imagined that we would be arguing the merits of appointing Sam Allardyce even before Bommy Night?’
What the almighty fuck is that about?
How have we gone from the Moshiri Millionaires, with our superstar coach and unprecedented spending – supposed dark horses for the Champions League places – to a club that’s nuttier than Bear Gryll’s shite, in a mere matter of months?
It would be harsh to lay all the blame at Steve Walsh’s door, but fuck it, we don’t know him, and we want to blame someone. It’s cathartic, if nothing else.
The summer recruitment is what fucked us and ultimately cost Koeman his job – how does the Director of Football walk away from that whole fiasco with no shit on his shoes?
To slightly misquote Bob Dylan: ‘They’ve got a whole lotta knives and forks. They’re going to want to cut something.’
In other words, it seems funny that we hired a fella with a brief to oversee recruitment, and all of a sudden we are doing scores of deals, some of which seem to offer minimal value to Everton. Yes, that is a direct reference to paying £45 million for Gylfi Gemmill.
If the paucity of the recruitment needed underlining, it was in the most recent game, that incredible thriller against Watford, where half the team comprised of kids and a striker who was basically a punchline and a pile of clobber in the corner of the changies only a couple of months ago. That’s who we are relying on to get us out of a potential relegation battle in this merciless snake-pit of a league.
There is a theory – that we just made up – that you can probably work out why clubs are malfunctioning by just looking at the contracts of everyone in the organisation. If their incentives and bonuses are not aligned then the result is just muddled thinking and a lack of focus.
The manager, chairman or whoever can give all the speeches they want about everyone pulling together, but they mean nothing unless everyone stands to gain.
With that in mind, it would be fascinating to know exactly how Walsh’s deal is put together.
Clearly Koeman never helped himself like, with the way he used the resources at his disposal, even if his squad was completely imbalanced. An attitude that could be described as ‘no nonsense’ when results were decent just made him look like a massive cunt once times got tough.
And his legacy, ultimately, is that he got paid north of £6 million per year for getting rid of Romelu Lukaku, Gerard Deulofeu and probably Ross Barkley, and replaced them with, well, perm any number of bog average players from that fucking shower.
Apart from the goalkeeper, clearly, who is great.
So what happens now ‘going forward’? As opposed to what, going backward? Anyway, we still don’t have a replacement for Koeman and the Everton board, as completely unprepared as any of us for Dutchman’s reign of decimation, seem absolutely paralysed. Maybe they’re not, maybe they are tapping up all sorts of managers right this minute, but the perception is that their arses have gone and the press have taken great delight in filling the void with endless speculation, usually citing ‘the odds shortening’ on a particular ‘candidate’ in order to fill a couple of column inches.
In fairness to the Everton board, they must be aware that this next appointment is going to be viewed as a statement of intent in terms of Farhad Moshiri’s long-term vision for the club. So for that reason – amongst all the rest – fuck Sam Allardyce. The cheeky Hafnia-headed get didn’t hesitate for a minute before chiming in with his opinions on how the Blues are goosed and just need to concentrate on survival this season – presumably with a ‘safe pair of hands’ in charge.
No doubt ‘their Craig’ could box us off with a centre-forward in January as well.
This idea that you need one type of manager to keep you up and then another to take you to ‘the next level’ is just weird. Regardless of whether you are in the bottom three or the top two, surely the principle is just the same – you need to score goals, stop conceding them, and ideally win a stack of football matches.
If Thomas Tuchel, or Marco Silva, or any other fucker, for that matter, is incapable of doing anything that Le Grand Sam can, then quite frankly we don’t want them.
Granted, the ideal candidate may only be available come the summer – if that’s the case then the job has to be David Unsworth’s in the meantime. The players want to play for him – a couple of obvious snides aside – as was clear against Watford, when despite their lack of confidence they ran themselves into the ground and dug out the win. What’s any other short-term manager going to do other than ask the fuckers to leg around loads?
If you think some tactical genius is going to come in and instantly ‘sort out the players’ positioning’ then you’ve been hoodwinked by the whole Zonal Marking/Monday Night Football arrows, graphs and, God preserve us, ‘heat maps’, cottage industry.
Going back to Toby Jug, he complains that English managers aren’t getting ‘these top jobs’, conveniently overlooking that he had what is supposedly the top job in England.
What happened there then, Poindexter? Remind us why you were stood at the end of the garden path, Dave Lee Travis-style, addressing the press in your tracky bottoms. You nugget.
As for Shaun Dyche – can Everton really appoint a man who buys his lilac shirts and ties in sets from the Asda and always looks like he’s just about to give a best man’s speech?
Well, ok, can we really appoint another one?
Having said that, a bit like Alan Partridge when he talks about wine, who really knows what constitutes the right manager? So much of it is just luck. The right man at the right club at the right time.
Claudio Ranieri is the obvious example. But how about Howard Kendall? Or just about any manager who ever won anything. Very few have ever done it at more than one club, because there are just too many factors outside of their control.
So what do you look for? Well, you want someone who at least looks a bit arsed, who can get the players to run around a bit, and ideally you want to watch the team and have some idea of what it is he’s trying to get them to do. After that though, if they’re doing the basics right, well, it’s all bollocks, isn’t it?