Goodison’sfarewellstagedinthefulltheatreofitsdefiance
Itwasn’tsomuchanendingasaresurrection—onelastriotofbluefervourbeforetheinevitablecurtaincall.GoodisonPark,ageingandachingwithmemories,bowedoutintheonlywayitknewhow:defiant,deafening,utterlyincapableofgoingquietlyintohistory.
Everton’s2-0victoryoveracompliantSouthamptonwasjustthedetail,afootballingpunctuationmarkinastorythatwasneverreallyaboutfootball.Thiswasthefinal match,yes.Butalsothefinalwalk,thefinalqueuesforchips,thefinalchantsechoingoffLeitchironwork.ThefinalthudofbootonturfthreemilesfromLiverpool’sglitteringcentre.AndforthoseEvertonianswhoqueuedoutsidesince 8 am,ticketedornot,thiswasn’tmourning—itwastestimony.
Photo IMAGO
ThestreetssurroundingGoodison—WinslowStreet,EtonStreet,NestonStreet,AndrewStreetweretransformedintoapilgrimageroute.Thousandsswarmedtowardstheoldchurchonthecorner,towardsthestatuesthatanchoredEverton’spastinconcreteandbronze:DixieDeanloomingoverdreams, ‘TheHolyTrinity’frozenincelebration.Eachmonumentboreflowers,scarves,phonesheldhigh.Devotionetchedintoeverydayritual.
Theteamcoachcouldn’tmakeittoGoodisonRoad.DetouredinsteadtoBullensRoad,cloakedbybluesmoke,fanschantingasifitwasafinal.Becauseitwas.
Songs,statuesandstubbornsentiment
ThiswasnoPremierLeaguefarewellwrappedincorporategloss.Thiswasscruffy,romantic,raw.TheBlueHousebursting,theWinslowheaving,theBlueDragonfishbardoingthebesttradeofitscentury.Youcouldsmellvinegarandfreshpaintandyesterday’sregret.Inside,theoldgroundpulsedwithanticipationhoursbeforekick-off.
ZCarsblared,theair-raidsirengroaned,andtheBullensRoadStand—ArchibaldLeitch’sarchitecturalgraffiti—shookasiftryingtooutliveitself.TheMainStand,futuristicin1970,somehowstillcarryingtheweightofhopein2024.AndwhenIlimanNdiayescoredtwice,itbarelymattered.Thefootballwasthesubplot.
Photo IMAGO
Asthegametrundledtoitsinevitableconclusion,somethingmorepowerfulbegantorise.Ahush,amurmur,atensionbuildingforwhateveryoneknewwascomingbutcouldn’tquiteface.Thentheboardwentup.Fourminutes.FourfinalminutesofGoodison’sPremierLeaguestory.Fourminutesofthunder.
Ritualsandreunionsbeneaththestands
WhenMichaelOliverblewthefinalwhistle,thestandsdidn’tempty.Theystood.Theysang.Theycried.BecauseGoodisonwasneverjuststeelandgrass.Itwasaplaceofinheritanceandargument,ofmemoryandmischief.Andinthisfinalact,itfounditsbestselfagain.
Videotributesplayedonthescreens—ThomasTuchel,MikelArteta,CarloAncelotti—allpausingtohonourthenoise,theawkwardness,theintimacyofEverton’shome. “TheatmosphereatGoodisonisunique,”saidArteta,anodtotheplacewherehefoundhisrhythmbeforecraftingArsenal’s.
Morethan70formerplayersmadethepilgrimage.TimCahill,GaryStevens,PaulRideout,BobLatchford,GraemeSharp—menwhohadsweatintothesoilofthisplace,nowapplaudedlikereturningsoldiers.WayneRooneywasmetnotwithjudgement,butjubilation.NolongertheladwholeftforOldTrafford,buttheboywhoscoredthat goal,returnedforremembrance.
EvenDavidMoyes,whoEvertoniansoncesangforandsometimesrailedagainst,stoodthereagain—older,greyer,humbledbythearcoftime. “Thiswasanextraordinaryatmosphere,”hesaid,lookingalmostasifhecouldn’tquitebelieveithimself. “Everyonehadcometogetherasoneclub.”
Rebuildingidentitybeyondthebricks
ForMoyes,now62andleadingEvertonintotheirnewHillDickinsonStadiumatBramley-MooreDock,thiswasmorethanaswansong.Itwasablueprint. “Weallseeitasanotherchance,”hesaid. “WeneedtostartrebuildingEvertonagain.”
Photo IMAGO
There’sadangerinnostalgia—ofbecomingtrappedinsepia,mistakingsurvivalforglory.ButforEverton,thepasthasalwaysbeenarmour.Moyes’swordsstruckwiththeweightofthat: “GoodisonParkwillberememberedforonething.Thepeople.”
ThisiswhatnewownersTheFriedkinGroupmustunderstand.Notthestructure,butthesoul.Therattleofoldsignage,thesmellofbootpolishandBovril,theroarthatstartsintheGwladysandconsumestheBullens. “Thisshouldbebottledup,wrappedupandtakentotheMersey,”Moyesimplored. “Wehavetomakethathappenagain.”
Reproducingtheirreproducible
Buthowdoyoureplicatesomethingsospecific,soweird,soutterlyirreplaceable?
Goodisonwasnotperfect.Thetoiletsweredreadful,thesightlineswereworse,theatmospherewasn’talwayselectric.Butitwasauthentic.Andinaneraofhomogenisedarenasandpiped-inplaylistpassion,thatmattered.AndyGraysaiditplainly: “WewillleaveGoodisonPark.GoodisonParkwillneverleaveus.”
Initsfinalmoment,theoldgroundwasgivenasend-offbefittingitscontradictions.AlonetrumpeterplayedZCarsoncemore,fansstayedrootedtotheirseatslongaftertheplayershadgone.Notreadytoleave,becausedeepdown,theyneverreallywill.