I’d supported Everton since the early sixties, picking up their name from the radio. My older brother, Jim (RIP) quite liked them too and, along with my Dad, would take me to watch them when they came to London…although, unfortunately, all of my family were really Manchester United supporters and soon Jim decided Man U would be his only team.

I stayed loyal to Everton — once a Blue, always a Blue, a term I didn’t know then but one that seems perfectly apt.

I can’t remember much about those games in the early sixties but one does stand out in my memory: 1964 and Everton beating Spurs 2-4 at White Hart Lane and, if I wasn’t hooked for life before then, this 9-year-old kid definitely was now.

So, for the next 5 years or so I would try to find a way of watching my beloved Blues when they came to London. There was plenty of opposition in those early days for my favourite player. Roy Vernon and Alex Young stand out but the player who meant the most to me (and in many ways still does) was Jimmy Gabriel.

Jimmy was not a flamboyant player but with his red hair and shirt outside his shorts you couldn’t miss him and he always gave 100%. A fierce tackler and someone who, when the going got tough, would be there, but he wasn’t just a hard man (there were plenty of those about in the sixties). Gabriel had a touch of class and if things were not going well then don’t be surprised to find him in the centre-forward position to pinch a goal.

By 1969 Gabriel had departed to Southampton. There were new heroes now and the midfield of Kendall/Ball & Harvey had come to the fore. I remember watching Howard Kendall make his debut for us at Arsenal and seeing a spiky/upset Colin Harvey sent off at Fulham. Harvey, along with Alan Ball, would get into my all-time Everton team (and of course I’d fit Gabriel in there somewhere!). Kendall would have to be the manager.

It was August 1969, just after my 15th Birthday and I had managed to convince a schoolfriend, Tim,-to come up to Liverpool with me for my first ever visit to Goodison Park. The idea was to meet outside London Bridge station and then go together to Euston and on to Lime Street.

You can’t imagine my excitement as I waited at London Bridge for Tim, but the minutes passed and there was no sign of him, excitement turned to desperation. There were no mobile phones in those days. I found a telephone box and made a call to his home, to be told he had left and must be there. I searched and searched and finally we found each other.

London Bridge had two stations side-by-side, the main one from South West London and the other one from South East London. With both of us coming from South East London, I had stood outside that entrance/exit; why Tim went to the South West entrance/exit I still don’t know. We had no time to lose for discussion and ran down to the tube and got to Euston minutes before the train was due to depart. If we missed the train, we missed the game. We were both fast and ran down the platform just as the train was pulling out of Euston and, lucky for us, in those days you could pull open the door and clamber in while ignoring all the whistles and shouts from the train staff.

So we made it to Goodison. The ground looked amazing, the pitch in prime condition and, best of all, we were in the Gwladys Street End. The atmosphere was incredible. I’m not sure how many were in the ground but it must have been around 50,000.

Everton got off to a fast start and played a very good Leeds side off the park. I wish I could remember the goals but I can’t. All I know is we went 3-0 up. The songs and chants still ring in my ears! We Shall Not Be Moved, of course, plus smaller ones like, Whose the greatest of them all? Little curly Alan Ball! and Joe Joe Mexico. But, funnily enough, what I remember the most is Jack Charlton standing on our goal line trying to put off Gordon West and all our supporters chanting, "You dirty great giraffe, you dirty great giraffe, yoooouu dirty great giraffe!"

The final result: we won 3-2. I think Joe Royle scored twice and Jimmy Husband the other and we had shown that day that we were one of the best sides in the league. As it turned out, we were the best side in the league, going on to win the Championship that season.

When you think of it now, it seems almost impossible that our whole team on the pitch that day came from England, with the exception of one Scot — Sandy Brown and he was only playing because Ray Wilson was unfit.

It was a team that seemed to play almost every week that season. I can reel off those names as if it were yesterday: West/Wright/Wilson/Kendall/Labone/Harvey/Husband/Ball/Royle/Hurst and Morrissey. We were allowed one sub then and more often than not that was Roger Kenyon.

Mind you, we mustn’t forget Alan Whittle who, towards the end of the season, scored a number of goals to get us over the line.

Life on my way home to London couldn’t get much better. My first ever visit to Goodison had got off to a winning start.

Looking back, the feeling I had then of watching Everton at home for the first time was unbelievable. All the games I’d seen up to then had been away and on many occasions stuck with the home supporters. To be able to let my hair down and really express myself along with all our fans was simply brilliant. This same feeling of released emotion I have every time I manage to get back to Goodison, and now it’s nearly time to plan another debut — hopefully next season.

For the moment though, it’s time to remember so many amazing memories at Goodison Park.


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