Remember when you ended up goosing sailors for crack money?
Sam Allardyce is like that.
No one wants that to be their life, but that’s where you end up at the end of a long list of poor choices.
With the end of the season mercifully in sight, it would be an understatement to say that some important decisions need to be made this summer. There have been some absolute shockers in this past year or so – it’s now time for Farhad Moshiri, or whoever advises him, to get one right and show that there is a vision for the future of the club beyond ‘fucking wing it until we get that new ground’.
The first one, clearly, is the new manager, because keeping Allardyce is not an option.
To be fair to him, the majority of the damage was done to the squad well before he arrived, but still, what would it achieve keeping him around for another year, with his face like a hen do waiting for fry-ups in Wetherspoons on a Sunday morning when they’ve all fallen out and they can’t remember why?
You were too busy talking to them lads all night anyway, you snooty cow.
The job was a cinch for Allardyce as well. Our wage bill, experience and the general lack of quality that makes up the vast rump of Premier League meant that keeping the Blues up was relatively straightforward.
It just fucking was.
With safety guaranteed ages ago he just needed to show a bit more ambition in games and also, more than anything, to manage his PR better. For someone so experienced at the politics of the game – and give him his due, he manages the ‘Big Sam’ industry magnificently – his handling of his relationship with the supporters has seemed nothing short of naive.
The fans want to take some inspiration from their leader, and so they look to him expectantly, but Allardyce just sits there at press conferences with a kipper on him like someone off Gogglebox watching the latest episode of ‘ISIS Lotto Winners’ or ‘Gypsies On Your Lawn’ and acts hard done to and, quite frankly, like a massive arrogant twat at times.
And it didn’t have to be that way. After the moody disaster that was Koeman, whose vision appeared to start and end with building a team that could lump the ball to Olivier Giroud, expectations were relatively low, but Allardyce seems determined to lower them further.
Just a little bit of humility would have gone a long way too, but he seems incapable.
Because ultimately he doesn’t really need this job and he doesn’t understand the club.
He’s just not Everton.
Lord knows who the replacement’s going to be. Surely it has to be a young fella though – one whose reputation depends on him making a go of it at Goodison. Not another half-hearted ‘pragmatist’ – read ‘arl arse’ – who is looking for his pay off from the moment the ink is dry on his massive contract.
No one comes with any guarantees of success, but after a couple of years of treading water you just want to see a plan, a style of play, fuck it, a ‘philosophy’ of some description. Look at the type of football the best teams are playing now – ludicrous high energy, aggressive and looking to absolutely smash the granny out of the opposition.
We all know who we are talking about here.
That lot (and Spurs) made a great appointment in a manager with a clear vision of what he wanted and who in turn has tapped into the club and its support to revolutionise them, much as it pains us to say it.
Meanwhile cunts on the telly are saying we should be happy with Sam Allardyce.
Get to fuck.
If you want cheering up even further, you should probably avoid what is a quite incredible book, The Lost Soul of Eamonn Magee by Paul D Gibson.
It’s definitely not your average sport biography.