Our European Summit, Forty Years On

It started with a train from Portsmouth. In those days, it always did. Tube from Waterloo to Oxford Circus to meet Tony in The Cock on Great Portland Street, our usual London pre-match haunt.

This time it was different. Two or three pints later, we wondered over to Kings Cross, where three ESCLA coaches were waiting. We were told there was to be no alcohol on the coaches. We got on Mick’s bus. Mick had lots of beer to sell us very cheaply. We had Rising Damp and Porridge on the coach’s telly. Things were looking up and we were still in London. We got to Dover and everyone on the other two coaches wondered why ours looked so lively, with everyone singing and laughing. Yes, because we were drinking.

My memories of the rest of the journey across are hazy, possibly because of the bottle of vodka that appeared on the ferry crossing. We got to the hotel, near Schiphol Airport, dumped our stuff, then we had the early afternoon in Amsterdam. Bumped into a good few Blues and some good-natured Vienna fans. Then the bus took us to the De Kuip Stadium in Rotterdam. We found a bar near the stadium full of Blues. They’d run out of draught beer, but they did have a big tray of Oranjeboom cans so we sat outside watching the Everton buses coming in. The highlight was one with five blokes on the roof dancing. As the bus stopped, they all fell off the front. No harm done – I don’t think they’d have felt anything anyway.

We were in the top deck at the Everton end. Everyone was in sky-high spirits. The first half was forgettable, apart from Gray scoring a decent looking goal that was disallowed, and someone falling off the front row of the top deck. Half time saw me bump into my old friend Paul Ferry and settle down for a pivotal second half. We all know what happened after that. I’ll never forget the whinging arl fellers as Krankl scored;  ‘that’s it, they’ll blow it now, typical Everton.’ While they were whinging, Sharp laid it off to Sheedy, who smashed a shot into the net for 3-1, game over.

Cue pandemonium around us, which went on long after Kev lifted the cup and the team paraded it in front of us. Eventually we left the stadium and went back to the hotel, that had kindly kept the bar open as long as we needed one.

We were up in the morning after a couple of hours sleep. The journey back seemed a lot longer. As we approached London, our driver thanked us for the whip round and gave a lovely, heartfelt speech about how much he was worried about driving us, then how much he’d enjoyed driving us.

Then it was back to Portsmouth for a day, before heading back into London for the Cup Final and possible treble. Great, great days.

Looking back forty years on, I’m just grateful I saw those moments, that I had a year of my degree course with no exams, so I could focus on following the best Everton team I’ll see. Thankful that my bank manager doubled my student overdraft to pay for the trip. Grateful to see that team reach the summit, while being denied the chance to climb higher.

I hope younger Blues get the opportunities to experience the joy we felt, forty years ago today.