You’ve adopted your beloved Everton Football Club and deluded yourself you can do what the combined expertise of David Moyes and Roberto Martínez could not by taking them to either domestic or European glory.
THE CATCH: Everton are incredibly mediocre, Phil Neville is still your captain, and under the current regime you have a transfer budget of £0.00. Get sharpening your knife, you’re about to enter a gunfight…
Previously: FM11/12 Skipping to the Good Bit at EFC (Intro), FM11/12: June 2011 (Pre-Season), FM11/12 July 2011 Part 1 (Pre-Season)
We’ve started pre-season with perhaps the most lacklustre winning ‘streak’ anyone’s ever seen, with victories over the respective might of Torquay, Preston, Everton De Viña Del Mar and our own reserves (which is not as easy as it looks, apparently).
Before we head in to our first proper Premier League game, we have the small issue of three friendlies against opposition that might actually do us some damage.
We’re also still without a ‘proper’ keeper – Jan Mucha and Tim Howard’s compatriot Marcus Hahnemann are all we have in that department, and neither inspire me with a great deal of confidence. My gamble in shedding Captain Star-Jumps may yet bite me in the arse – every club in the game seems to have gathered that I’m more desperate than the nerdy child that gets dragged along on a club 18-30 holiday. When you’ve been quoted £21m for Craig fucking Gordon you know something’s up.
Regardless, we head out to face Espanyol at full-strength. Or whatever constitutes full-strength after a flurry of injuries and transfers. ‘Mon blues, deez are shite.
Everton 2 – 2 Espanyol
Despite not winning, this was actually our best game so far. Not to go all Martínez on you – but in this case I’m more concerned about the performance than the result.
Anichebe’s been playing well in this wide-target-man pseudo-role we’ve invented for him, and it’s a swift break which sees him head home from a Baines cross after cutting in to the far post. Just as I’m about to ‘promote’ Big Vic to a striking berth alongside Jelavic, a young Rui Fonte turns up and scores a goal that is so unfairly snide I actually respect him for it, a scruffy goalmouth scramble where he effectively pushes Jan Mucha over and dribbles the ball over the line. I’m half tempted to table a ludicrous £11m bid for the fucker, before picturing Bill Kenwright’s smug Dolores Umbridge face as he locks an oversized comedy safe containing our meagre budget for the year.
We then have a perfectly good goal disallowed for offside. Anichebe outmuscles Walter Pandiani and plays Jelavic in who darts past the last defender and (as per) slots first time. Unfortunately, poor refereeing keeps us from maintaining our 100% win rate.
Half time sees Cahill and Osman on for Anichebe and Neville and all of a sudden we’re dominant. Gibson swings over a perfect corner for Jagielka to head in and we switch to ultra-defensive to see the game out.
Then out of nothing, Baines skews a clearance into the feet of admirable bastard Rui Fonte for him to punt it in past a flailing Mucha in the final kick of the game.
Steve Round, the heartless bastard, advises me to tell the team they should’ve done better. I’ve got a heart of gold though and tell them they were unlucky. Morale shoots up, so I steal Round’s phone, unlock it (passcode is 1234, the dope) and hand it to the squad once he’s left. I will not be held accountable for the results.
For some reason we’re booked to fly all the way over to Argentina for a single friendly fixture against Newell’s Old Boys next, only to fly back the very next day to play Valencia at Goodison. I know he’s become a whipping boy but it was Round who booked these friendlies. You’re on thin ice, headset boy. Very thin ice.
We ping a knackered squad over the Pacific and set up in the nice 4-2-3-1 we played vs. Espanyol. Hopefully we won’t be crucified by a reasonably competent Newell’s side with their heads still in the correct time-zone.
Everton 6 – 0 Newell’s Old Boys
This was a decidedly un-PG performance. A merciless, crushing demolition of a shellshocked side that made Saving Private Ryan look like Peppa Pig.
Alright, it was only a friendly. But I was expecting this result against Torquay – not against a side that aren’t too bad at playing actual football. We scythe through them with brutal, unflinching counter-attacking football.
A quick break saw us score a goal from a carbon copy of the corner routine against Espanyol and we never looked back. Leon Osman (that’s Leon Fucking Osman) scores a hat-trick including a wonder goal where he runs through the entire team before nutmegging a terrified Newell’s keeper.
Anichebe makes it 5 and then Bressan scores his first goal to complete the coup de grâce. I’m gonna send these boys on a transatlantic flight every week.
We also did that with 39% possession. Which is interesting. I rather like this Blitzkrieg Everton I’ve stumbled upon…
Next up we have our final friendly and against by far the best team we’ve encountered so far: Unai Emery’s Champions League contenders Valencia.
This was before Valencia went mad and hired Gary Neville, and their team shows they’re a side bursting with quality players such as an old-but-still-potent David Albelda, Sofiane Feghouli and a pre-Spurs meltdown edition of Roberto Soldado all starting this game. However, we’ve just given Newell’s a a damn good beating with Leon Osman as our fulcrum, so I’ll be damned if we’ve anything to fear from this mob. Into these blues.
Everton 1 – 1 Valencia
Another good display with a sucker-punch ending. We control the opening stages soaking up pressure and hitting back in our distinctly un-Martínez high-press counterattacking style. Rodwell has been the exact opposite of his real-life self, grabbing the game by the scruff of the neck and treating opposition possession as a personal offence. After a full 30 minutes of legging David Albelda everywhere the vintage Spaniard loses his cool and fouls the Southport Superstar on the edge of the box. Jelavic bends a free kick right into the top corner and reels away in celebration like his mojo never left. I love him more than some pets I’ve had.
The Blitzkrieg Blues come in at half time and I praise each and every one of them – even Stevey Round can’t bring himself to be harsh. Before sending them out to do more of the same, Gibson coming on for Cahill is the only change.
The half follows on in much the same vein. However Adil Rami seems to have galvanised the Valencia backline, so although we’re constantly threatening we’re not quite making anything clear cut. We’re the yawning Foghorn Leghorn to their busy but ineffectual Chickenhawk. I slide us into a comfortable defensive mode and leisurely wait for us to wrap up a deserved win.
I’ve barely had the chance to blink before Heitinga is caught in possession too high up the pitch. The ‘slightly less-mad Dutch one’ is hassled off the ball by Alberto Costa, who runs into an acre of free space and smashes the ball past a worryingly hapless Jan Mucha.
This may be a friendly. But that’s still properly annoying – Jack Rodwell didn’t run through brick walls for this. The game runs the remaining 4 minutes with little incident apart from a slight knock to Nicky Jelavic. He’ll be fine though – he’s the Silent Assassin, The Croatian Sensation – he doesn’t feel tackles, he simply ghosts past them.
That. Or he’s broken his leg and he’s out for 6 months. My one striker of any worth is out for most of the season alongside our best midfielder. I immediately cancel Big Vic’s proposed loan to Ajax. Tbh I don’t think ‘Total Voetbal’ is his Anichebe’s gig anyway. Time for some good old fashioned shithousing Vic. We’ll need points from somewhere…
Good job we’ve got an easy start in the league. Just Spurs, QPR and United to contend with. This unbeaten streak is unlikely to withstand competitive football. In Royston Drenthe we pray…
SEANFITZPADDY 
