Everton: Howard, Jagielka , Yobo, Lescott, Baines, Pienaar, Neville Rodwell, Osman, Fellaini, Cahill.
Bench: Van der Meyde, Nash, Gosling, Wallace, Jacobsen, Saha (Rodwell 45m), Castillo.
Referee:Mark Halsey
Sorry it's late lads but I'm sure you will understand.
The celebrations went on late and there's only so much Stella one can take before you arrive in that state of oblivion, anyway, it's probably the first valid excuse ever!
I burst through the front door at half past and there she was stood in the hallway wth the light on. She said, 'Look at you, you're staggering'. I said, 'You're not bad looking y,self, now get up them stairs because I've got a semi on!' What a game, we went through every emotion, what support, the second half was memorable, and what a night!
First Merseyside team at the new Wembley, just like we were the first Merseyside team at the old one. It also looks like it will be the Big Four in the semi's! There was a beauty being sung as the Park End spilled out,
'The City's all yours,The City's all yooooooours,We're off to Wembley,The City's all yours!'
But it wasn't all plain sailing that's for sure, you know the phrase 'The Toffeemen never let you down' well it was certainly true. Everton pulled on every emotional string we had in an amazing game. Y'know a few weeks ago, we had moved up to a new level, we were coming to games almost knowing we'd win, just like we did against Villa in the last round, however since then things have changed. We have lost the services of the best little Spaniard we know and we've seen dour performances against The Skunks, WBA and Rovers, the plus point being three clean sheets, so whilst some were over confident , others were less so.
Boro had been on a good run of late and just last week had resoundingly beaten Rafa'a Marvels - the shite (how I enjoyed watching that in the boozer surrounded by shite, well I was surrounded until the second went in - the pearl was when the sub came on and one of The Deliverance said, 'Fuckin ell, we've got no chance now, we're bringing No'Good on - belter!) but they were brought down to earth with a tonking at Spurs in midweek - how would it go?
Moyesy decided that Louis was not fit enough to start so Screech, my grandson, was back in to help Timmy up front, he also kept Jags at full back to counter the £15m man Downing, it worked because the buggered off to the right wing in the last half hour. We'd staked our claim, Moysey and Captain Nev had delivered the war cry and it ws time to deliver for the fans. The fans were up for it too, the old lady was rocking, te four o'clock kick off meant and extra couple of Stella plus the statutory FA Cup large snifter so the mood was good.
In the middle was the usually steady Mark Halsey, today he was to have an absolute nightmare. The whole ground was to become incensed with his ineptitude and Hackett would do well to send this bloke to the cooler along with young Attwell. Boro won the toss and made us kick the wrong way, so along with Halsey things were looking good for them. To be fair, they were by far the better team in the first half, O'Neill was everywhere and Arca was pulling the strings. They had beasts at the back in Pogatez and Wheater and the rest of the team worked their bollocks off closing us down, winning the ball and taking the game to us.
Even Tim Howard looked a bit shaky as he dealt with his first cleaance. Boro were camped in our half and looking the more likely to score, they were restricted fortunately to a few long range efforts and a few dangerous crosses. Our first decent chance was not until just before half time when Screech went close with a header from Jags cross, their keeper saving low down to his right and pushing it out for a corner. It was only a few minutes later and right on half time that Boro went ahead. From a cross wide on the right, Wheater rose to head past Tim, only Wheater will know what he was doing there but either way, Boro were in front.
Now Mr Halsey got a ironic cheer also just before half time. He awarded a foul against Boro for the defender putting both arms over Tim Cahill before fouling him to head the ball, if it wasn't over the shoulders it was around the waist, they had been at it all half and he'd missed two clear pentalties but that was not to take away from the fact that we were very poor. Moyesy needed to change something and dish out a bollocking.
HALF TIME 0-1
Bollocking duly dished out and Louis on for young Jack. Tim went into midfield and ran his bollocks off and Screech was pushed up front. There was an immediate improvement and an immediate impact. Just four minutes into the second half Timmy crossed and there he has all 7ft of Screech (hair included) to glace in the equaliser - that's my boy! The place erupted, we knew we could do this and we did.
Six minutes later the place went mental. A cross from the right was missed by Louis but picked up on the left by Peanuts, he crossed and King Louis earned his new nickname, again nodding in after he'd picked himself up. What a turnaround, the difference in play was remarkable, none more so than from Peanuts who ran himself to a stand still until his substitution.
But Everton being Everton never let you down and as the clock ran down Boro seemed to get closer and closer, Downing had moved ovr to the right to try out Bainsey and when he went close we thought it was all over but no, time for one last heart attack. Boro had made every substitution and thrown everything at us but one last long range effort was spilled by Tim and with their forward about to pounce Roger cleared - what a relief, nails were bitten, voices were lost, eyes were covered until we heard Halsey reluctantly blow that final whistle. We'd done it got to a semi for the second season, now for a final.
The place went bonkers, 'It's a grand old team' struck up and we sang our way to the boozer and beyond. Great stuff. Tell me Ma, me Ma..........
Blukipper Star Man could go to anyone in the second half but the choice is Timmy the Blue Kangaroo for none stop effort and defying all belief once again, not just up front where he battled non-stop but then in the middle. Wembley here we come, not once but twice. COYB FTRS
FULL TIME 2-1
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