Off with the Shite!

I am going to gloat.

Everton kicked Liverpool out of the FA Cup with a deflected strike by teenager Dan Gosling in extra time. Since losing in the derby earlier this season, Everton have gotten the measure of their vastly richer neighbors.

Indeed, there was a sense of nostalgia in this fairy-tale ending. Everton were expected to roll over and surrender. A gap of fourteen points in the league separates the two sides. This gulf seems more prominent when you consider the overall value of the Everton squad is only a small fraction of what their neighbors cost. With their first choice strike force decimated by injuries, Everton have been forced to play attacking midfielder Tim Cahill upfront and out of position for the entire month. Despite the difficulties, Everton’s narrow defeat at Old Trafford on Sunday was only their first of the year, rounding off a month which have seen them drew with Chelsea and Arsenal, twice with Liverpool and beaten Hull City and Macclesfield.

Everton’s stifling tactics denied the Shite their usual procession game. Like the previous two derbies, Everton fought a war of attrition, frustrating the Shite at every turn and threatening on counter attacks and set pieces. The strategy was simple and predictable, but Shite manager Rafael Benitez had no answer to it.

The physical contest brought back memories of the old-fashioned English game. The blood and thunder displays, the diehard commitment and the fiery passion on the pitch were absorbing in the way a slogging match is. Six cautions, one red card and two injuries epitomized the intensity of this brutal encounter. The Blues finally had the Reds on the tight rope after Lucas was sent off fourteen minutes from time. Up popped youngster Dan Gosling at the far post, the chance set up by perpetual benchwarmer Andy Van der Meyde and Goodison Park saw one of the greatest nights in their club’s history.

For all their lauded abilities and Champions League pedigree, title contenders Liverpool failed when it mattered. The magic of the FA Cup remains, and remains a beautiful sight. David versus Goliath. A team which fielded over half of its playing strength in Englishmen, youngsters and bit-part players showed a team consisting of expensive and experienced foreign mercenaries what the English game is all about. The paupers versus the wealthy. Sheer desire over technique. A paper-thin squad versus a squad with depth. And in the end, a young player won it for his side. The giant-killing, so sweet and intoxicating, you won’t find it anywhere else other than the FA Cup. You won’t find it any better than the Blues in jubilation, and the Reds, dejected and their tails between their legs, limping off the pitch.

FUCK OFF LIVERPOOL!