Okay, without link, match report fulahm, my bad, admins
EVERTON ON TO THE NEXT PHASE!
Fulham, Round 4, Friday Night, 27-1-12
This is hard to write. My Open Office screen is smaller than usual right now and the MSN news screen is just behind it. As excited as I am to tell you my thoughts on the match tonight, I can see the following items at the bottom of my screen:
* Teen on 15-year chicken nugget diet lands in hospital
* Actress says aliens abducted her
* Journey drummer arrested
I will, however, soldier on. Tonight was American Fest at Goodison Park, and Yank-a-Vision TV was all abuzz. The good thing about Yank commentary is that you often get Eric Wynalda doing the co-commentating, who is outstanding. The bad thing about it is that the main commentator has names like Gueye to deal with. The guy did say he called up Ian Crocker to help him deal with pronunciation, but then spent the rest of the match saying, “Mack-gay-ee-mack-eye†and referred to the injured “Yah-gelka†for Everton.
Whatever, the match kicked off and I'll say one thing: Evertonians love their nighttime football at Goodison, and the atmosphere was thumping from the get-go until the fans realized that it was Friday night, not Wednesday night, and the visitors were Fulham, not Fiorentina. However, when the fans realized there would be no refunds, they got behind the lads proper quick. It has been so long since I have seen Everton play football like tonight. Each Fulham attempt at attack was met with either a deft theft or a crunching tackle followed by a mad acceleration up the pitch like a Porsche driven by a 50-year old man on viagra.
Unfortunately, most of the players were not used to this sort of football and the attacks ended like the Porsche driver's saga when the wife makes him pull the car over to the side of the road, and then she rolls down the window to ask directions.
The danger about asking strangers for directions is that sometimes you run into the guys from “Deliverance.†When poor Jonny Heitenga found himself in the wrong neck of the woods, some inbred baldy with a ten-dollar tan pointed at a spot on the pitch and told him to strip down to his jockey underwear and squeal like a pig. While Jonny, understandably stressed, tried to reason with the guy, some hillbilly with a face that was a cross between a jack-o-lantern and a cat's asshole, drove a ball straight up his wahoo. The bald guy gave Heitenga a yellow card for protesting too much and Goodison Park groaned in sympathy. Normally, Everton would spend the rest of the match spooning with their violator, but Landon Donavon started warming up...finally. It took a moment, but Everton went back to jacking the ball away from Fulham and attacking the Cottagers' net. At one point they had 27 corners in a ten second span, but the crowd tried too hard and sucked the crosses out of touch instead of into the net. Finally, an attacking run was finished by Donavan, who sent a cross that Straqueilka rose into the air to meet and greet, bringing the match back to level terms within a few minutes of halftime.
Half time
Because of how much space I used up on the first half, I will use a montage for the second half:
Everton, physical, physical, bam, bam, Fulham players grimace and fall to the ground like ugly swans, Neville kick the ball out of touch and yell at teammates. Fulham attack, attack, tackle crunch again, Everton take ball, get free kick in good position, ball rolls to Donavon, who lifts a high cross into the night to the far post. Fellainis rises and the Turk pops it up into a lazy arc across the mouth of the net. The goalkeeper is a synchronized swimmer doing his tribute to Barry Manilow, but the ball floats over his eloquently gloved hand and falls like a tissue, perhaps tossed at him by Manilow himself, but he misses it and it settles onto the lawn in back of the net. The goalkeeper plucked the ball from the net and sniffed it, perhaps hoping to catch a whiff of Manilow's perfumey sweat, but instead his nostrils were flooded with the stench of defeat.
The rest of the match was hardgy bardgy, the only thing missing being the shouts of “Ole.†My mind began to wander: you would have had to begin feeding your child McNuggets at the age of three or four in order for the kid to be hospitalized for it as a teenager. You picture the kid coming home from his part time job and saying, “What's for dinner tonight? Don't tell me, chicken nuggets. ****ing brilliant. I think I'll try them with ranch dressing tonight.†Then I wondered which actress saw a UFO, and if it wasn't actually Tom Cruises's ego. Or was it UFO's drummer who got arrested?
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