I HAD a soft spot for Crystal Palace when I was eight. I quite liked them. To me they had appeared out of nowhere — a magical, mystical club, named after the Wizard of Oz’s house.
I had never heard of them before that season but here they were playing the Reds and being kind enough to let us batter them 9-0. They were sound.
That viewpoint lasted about six months until the FA Cup semi-final at Villa Park. My memories of the game are sketchy to say the least, but I remember getting stuck in traffic on the M6, Dad having murder with a bizzie because they hadn’t delayed the game much (despite half of our end being on the motorway) and finally getting in at half time having ran about three miles.
The Reds were winning, we missed the goal but at least we were winning and then we kick off for the second half and they get the ball and leg it down the other end and score.
We ran three miles to watch some bell-end score straight from the kick off. I didn’t sign up for this, Dad.
Steve Staunton then decides to chest a ball on the line and some other divvy scores, heads burst all over the show, Alan Pardew gets the winner (above) and cements himself in my mind as one of the worst people to ever grace the planet
I hated Palace for not letting us win and I hated them a bit more for not beating Manchester United in the final a few weeks later.
The only positive of any of this was that I had Pardew pegged when I was eight. Boss judge of character, me.
They haven’t done much to improve my opinion since, really, in fact I still hate them to this day.
The fictitious, Wizard of Oz, eagle-loving gobshites.
Everything about them is rubbish. The Crystal Girls are the pits, who does that these days? They had Neil Warnock didn’t they? Andy Johnson, John Salako, that chairman who looked like he was in East 17…all of them designed to do your head in.
They also send a big massive bald eagle to fly around the pitch before kick-off for no reason other than to make themselves feel better. I often wonder about these eagle fellas with the gloves. Where does the eagle go for the rest of the day once it gets off the pitch?
It would be boss if the glove man takes him home and has to live with the eagle on his left hand as a permanent fixture. Hasn’t eaten any meat for six years, the glove man, because every time he serves it up the eagle swoops in and yomps it.
“Sausage butty, love, yes that will be lovely.” “Here you go…” Woomph! The poor eagle man is left with bread, butter and sausage dripping while the eagle is dispatching sausages like there is no tomorrow.
I like to picture him trying to have a shower — eagle hand out of the curtain trying not to get it wet or in bed, trying to read but struggling to turn the pages of his book.
The game yesterday felt like some form of payback for all of the above — a first step on the long road to redemption. It was genuinely brilliant, wasn’t it? What was your favourite bit?
- Match review: Crystal Palace 1 Liverpool 2
- Player ratings: Crystal Palace 1 Liverpool 2
- Five from Fitzgerald: Crystal Palace 1 Liverpool 2
Mine was when Pards took his coat off and lashed it after we scored. The next time the cameras cut to him he had put it back on. My line of questioning after the game would have focused on this as follows:
You OK, hun? #LFC pic.twitter.com/qD81xEJTe6
— The Anfield Wrap (@TheAnfieldWrap) March 6, 2016
“Hi Alan, tough result today. Can you talk me through your decision to remove your coat and throw it on the floor?
“At what point did you realise it was too cold to be coatless and you had made a mistake? Or was it that you could not be bothered carrying it so you just put it back on to walk off the pitch?
“Thanks for facing us in such difficult circumstances, Alan.”
The real Pardew interviews after the match are hilarious though.
I reckon he has got such a cob on because his favourite day of the year has been ruined.
You can imagine Pards out in town, chatting to all the mums with one eye on all the daughters.
I hope he is at home with an Eagle trying to eat his tea (it’s a day off for the Eagle man, took his mum out).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQC9xrKpGEs
Last-minute winners are brilliant in any circumstances and yesterday was no different.
That we were down to 10 men made it seem better, especially given how poor we had been for 70 minutes.
We fought hard in the first half to stay in the match but once they scored the response for 20 minutes or so was abject.
It was the Newcastle/Watford/West Ham prototype — no real fight, no creation, no threat, really poor, not good enough.
Then James Milner acted the faux hard case again with a ridiculous tackle and once he was off the Reds sprung to life. Gifted a goal by their keeper, the response was pretty good and, weirdly, only one side looked like winning.
It’s mad that it took us going down to 10 men to start creating chances. It’s almost as if the players have a mental block in these types of games when the stock formation and line-up isn’t working.
They know how difficult it will be to breakdown a deep opposition and as such, when we concede we look resigned to our fate.
The sending off was a blessing in disguise as it forced us to find different solutions — took us out of a self-imposed comfort zone, removed the easy pass, made us play a bit more in straight lines rather than across the pitch and resulted in us carving out more chances in the last 20 minutes than we had in the previous 70.
Alberto Moreno hit the post, Divock Origi had one, Christian Benteke had a couple. It might be that Palace tired and tried to hang on, it might be a coincidence, but either way we were much better.
It could be worthwhile mixing it up in future for these types of games — two up front perhaps — save someone needing to get sent before we can start playing a different way.
There looked to be only one winner and confidence was soaring until they brought Dwight Gayle on. My heart sank. Never before has a player done absolutely nothing aside from play against us twice a year and look like a superclone of Messi, Ronaldo, Owen and Henry.
Against any other team in the country he plays at his true level — somewhere between me and Sean Dundee. Not sure what the reason is for this.
There are unsubstantiated rumours that Pards keeps him in a Joey Fritzl-style cellar, exposing him to non-stop ear bursting sessions of Pete Price, John Bishop, Billy and Wally’s Hold Yer Plums and old episodes of Blind Date until he foams at the mouth — only to let him out to run amok against the Reds, larruping goals from all over the show.
Either way, he must have had Stockholm Syndrome or something as he didn’t kick it. Happy days, indeed.
Big silent Chris Benteke decided to run in behind their defence for a bit instead of standing still on the penalty spot and won a brilliant penalty. I love a good dive. I love a good bit of cheating and I love someone who does all of the above and then picks himself up and slots the penalty with a minimum of fuss.
Well in, lad. Made up for you, you know. Kick on from here and you might be a hero yet.
The travelling Reds went berserk and Pards lashed his coat. The referee gave it consecutive whistles and we all went home delighted and perplexed in equal measure.
As it was Mothers’ Day I asked my Mum for her thoughts on the game. Her response was quite fitting.
“The Reds were shite — it was great though — I’ll have another glass.”
Is right, Mum, Is right, the Reds.
Urgh. That Pardew interview… What an unpleasant little man. Allowing ‘Pards’ to reveal what a shitbird he is again will probably be Benteke’s finest moment as a Liverpool player.
If you go to ground, clip the opposition player and get no where near the ball it is a foul and if it’s in the box it is therefore a penalty. That’s sort of the rules. Pardew: ‘it was in the last seconds of the game and he was going away from goal.’ Still not how it works that, Alan. I assume he wasn’t complaining when their captain got away with not getting booked because it was in the first few minutes.
About time Gayle and Bolasie looked their level against us for once as well. They’ve had their fair share of luck against us recently. Fuck them.
Excellent use of “shitbird”. That insult does not get used enough, but is perfect for Pards. Would also have accepted shitehawk or dicksplash.
Love the quotes,as a Palace man its good to see the relief youve had over your win,know change hands,and roll on next season if we are still there!!!
There can surely be no manager around easier to dislike than Pardew. I include Allardyce in this.
I remember when they wore claret and blue and we’re nickmamed The Glaziers.In those days the club mascot was an old boy with a pair of ladders and a tin of putty
“..somewhere between me and Sean Dundee” *spits coffee* ha!
Love the post-match interview. If i was interviewing him when he started getting upset, i’d love to have had the balls to shout, “Talk to the hand, bitch! Talk to the fucking hand!”
Being born in South London, I have a few Palace fans in my family. It’s no surprise to anyone that they’re considered the mouthy ones.
My aunt lived near the ground, and visiting her was always a ballache. There was a Sainsbury’s next door and my mum had to shut me up with a sausage roll every single time.
Every few years Palace would raise their heads up the parapet, and Uncle Paul would delight in telling me and my Charlton friends (my choice of local team) how they would carve the Prem apart, our only consolation being their inevitable disappearance a year later.
Whether it was Popeye Lombardo, Alan squinty eyes Smith, Clinton the plastic rudeboy or Iain meathead Dowie, they used that Bouncebackabilty to fuck back off to the Championship.
So this recent period has been absolute torture for me. Not only they’re now famous for stopping us win 2 trophies, but the strength of their juju was paralysing. Even yesterday, see how many players we put on Bolasie, and feel millions of LFC arseholes flapping.
But no more!
Selhurst is no longer the new Stoke.
The fact that they literally handed us the points after we gave them a goal and man advantage makes it even sweeter.
I’m sure they’re not all bad, blah blah blah, but anyone who’s been around the Palmer family house for Christmas would understand why I’m so happy.
Do they ever mention the 9-0 ?
No they don’t, but I do! I also mention that the one time I actually wanted them to win – 1990 FA cup final – they couldn’t do it. That normally shuts them up for a bit.
The fact that there is video evidence for prosperity of Pards firmly hurling his toys out of the cot is priceless.
He made so many contradictory statements and made quite a fool of himself.
Nice.
Best Subutteo kit in the 70’s apart from Liverpool away (white shirts, black shorts, red socks) Any arguments??!!
Agree it was top but I liked the Sampdoria and Peru ones too (ahh nostalgia).
sat on the bench Martin Kelly looks like he is doing his best not to look (& laugh) as birdbrain throws his hissy fit & coat… makes it all even better
Class, quality supporters constantly giving the finger(s) and swearing. I love Pards reaction, it will live on in my memory or rewind and play, ahhh there it is again, and again, and again!
Seeing Pardew that rattled is particularly sweet after his teeth-grindingly cretinous behaviour down the touchline in the Anfield fixture. He really, really fancies himself as a big time Charlie.
‘He knows them inside out’ was what Bolasie said about Pardew in reference to us after the Anfield game.
Yeah, course he does. He knows us so well his lads bottled it AT HOME against ten of ours.
The ‘fuss’ about this incident just reinforces my view that the authorities are pissed off over Hillsborough, and the hounding of Suarez is further proof. I don’t know if Benteke dived or not, but the received wisdom in the game these days is that a defender who hits the deck in his urn penalty area is foolhardy at best.
Many, many forwards have deserved reputations for cheating – one of the Manchester clubs is the creme de la creme of recruiting divers and cheats, but no petitions seem ever to have been suggested. It’s because it’s Liverpool.
Fuck ’em and their ‘people like us.’
Won’t be reading stuff like this for much longer as it will soon be illegal to post anything like this on the Internet.
Delaney is the same genius who, in the 93rd minute, with Palace having won a free-kick about half-way to the halfway line in their half, decided that trying to score directly from it (and failing miserably) was the best, most prudent choice at the time.
Stupid is as stupid does. Delaney is not a footballing genius. And he gave us a preview of what was to come.