The Long Goodbye
Wednesday, February 12th, 2025. It was a historic day and a hardy goodbye. It was the last Merseyside Derby to be staged at Goodison Park, as well as the last game that David Moyes would ever coach at that ancient ground. We were merely seconds away from what should have been Liverpool’s hundredth victory in that derby. That milestone was erased by a truly remarkable display of officiating incompetence. Appropriately, it marked Arne Slot’s first-ever straight red card of his Liverpool career. It is perhaps only fitting that he received it at his first Goodison Derby. And finally, it was the first day of my 20th year supporting Liverpool.
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A Chaotic Finale
I tried not to say this out loud too much before the final whistle blew on the 12th because I have a firm belief in some intelligent, malevolent force out there that is out to ruin special occasions wherever Liverpool FC is involved. I didn’t do a good enough job of concealing this. So I, of course, must take full responsibility for the shadow cast over the occasion. Even with the benefit of some distance, I’m still pretty pinched about the result and everything that led up to it. Especially as it comes so soon after the Klopp Farewell Tour died its final death at Goodison Park as well.
Accordingly, I wasn’t in much of a celebratory mood on my Porcelain Anniversary. Still, even with the occasion marred by whatever force of evil out there hates Liverpool FC, in some sense, it was the perfect night. Goodison Derbies are supposed to wreck you emotionally. They make you physically sick and create the kind of temporary insanity that could be admitted as evidence in a criminal trial. The night may not have been triumphant, but it was certainly memorable.
The Changing Of The Guard
The most positive thing that could be said about the Last Goodison Derby is that it was dripping with nostalgia. It was nice seeing David Moyes in the dugout again, truly the ideal man for the occasion. For the 20 years I’ve supported Liverpool, Moyes has managed Everton for eight. For much of my life, he’s been the face of the Merseyside Derby. His time in charge did make Goodison Park feel like a mountain to climb, and clearly not much has changed.
Sean Dyche, God bless him, clearly had no aspirations for Everton other than barely staving off relegation. Saying goodbye to Goodison Park with him at the helm wouldn’t have seemed right. Dyche’s Everton was a classic Catch-22. Winning against them was pro forma, failing to win was a humiliation. Moyes’ Everton had a world-beating hot streak at their back. They were willing and able to sucker punch two points out of our guts, making for a true Derby. Arguably, Dyche is a better fit for a supporter base characterized by sanctimony and self-hatred, but that’s all the more reason to appreciate his absence. Enough of the occasion was marked by Everton dragging us down to their level; Dyche completing the picture was the last thing we needed.
A Goodbye To A Plethora Of Managerial Memories
Speaking of managers, it’s hard to bid my farewells to Goodison Park without thinking about the man in charge of LFC when I first entered the fold. Rafa Benitez is as much responsible for my lifelong fanaticism as my dad’s soccer jersey. He, of course, helped deliver the trophy at Istanbul that would give me a taste of European glory that would turn to ash in my mouth for the next decade and a half. In those days I idolized Benitez as a misunderstood genius. Benitez divinely ordained to bring Liverpool out of the darkness.
Before Klopp, Benitez was the figure I thought of as embodying what Liverpool was all about. He was a man willing to do the hard work of rebuilding a dynasty. His love for Liverpool was unmistakable. With the benefit of hindsight, I have come to terms that he probably left at the right time. As a teenager, I considered him a modern-day St. Sebastian, martyred by the tyranny of the Premier League. He would, however, grant me another gift by managing Everton. The absolute loathing and anger he inspired on the part of the Toffees was delightful to me. Even more so when he presided over one of the most decisive Goodison Derby defeats in our shared history. The away side’s chants of “Rafa, Rafael” bring a smile to my face every time I think about it.
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An objective view of the situation would have you believe that Rafa had simply run aground on the rocks of a financially devastated club and a fundamental lack of morale. I instead choose to believe that the whole situation was contrived for our benefit, one last dance for the Liverpool faithful who still love him. After all, we would go on to lose at Anfield after Rafa was replaced, and then to Carlo Ancelotti in Europe. That’s quite a coincidence.
A Lasting Moment From The Local Lad
The final scenes of the last Goodison Derby are likely to be remembered as a black mark on the occasion. I see things a bit differently. True, the bans and the potential FA penalty are an unneeded stressor in an already nervy title run. Still, I can’t help but celebrate Curtis Jones’ passion. Jones is Toxteth-bred, an LFC stalwart who has been with the club since he was 9. To say that he bleeds Liverpool FC is a bit on the nose, but it’s clear that the club is a huge part of who he is. He was brought up in Steven Gerrard’s academy and made his debut in a Klopp squad destined to return the club to glory.
So it is perhaps understandable that he’d take it personally when some idiot in a blue shirt decides to use the away side for a victory lap. Jones showed enormous restraint; at 24 I’d probably have been throwing punches. Remembering my first days with Liverpool, it’s impossible for me to not sympathize with someone ready to fight over the issue.
20 years of Goodison Derbys have always been intensely variable in terms of their result. But one thing that has never changed is the passion underlying them. Watching them always makes you feel spent, no matter what happens. Anticipating them always makes you feel sick, no matter how good Liverpool is in the run-in. My goodbye to Goodison Park is a long time coming, but I will always treasure those memories. No matter how much they sometimes feel like a punch in the gut.
Here’s hoping for 7-0 at Anfield.
