You want confusion, la? Try telling your Evertonian mate, after a few bevs, that “Pickford’s gone to Fylde.” Watch their face as they forget there’s more than one Pickford at Everton. Suddenly, people are panic-Googling Jamie’s Twitter, expecting to see Jordan packing his popgun wrists and moving to the National League. Behave yourself.
No, this is George Pickford, boss young goalkeeper at Everton, off for a short-term loan at AFC Fylde. George, not Jordan. You’d think the club would start changing surnames just to avoid this sort of panto every time a loan deal happens. I’m telling ye now, if my nan heard ‘Pickford’s heading down the M6,’ she’d have started baking a going-away cake for Jordan and adding a fiver to the swear jar.
From Finch Farm to Fylde. But Don’t Pack Your Bags, Jordan
The official headline on the BBC? Fylde sign keeper Pickford on loan from Everton. Sound, but even the Beeb know what they’re playing at, spinning us into a goalkeeper-based existential crisis. It’s like Everton want to see how many fans they can get to ring the club shop demanding refunds on their kids’ lucrative ‘PICKFORD 1’ shirts.
AFC Fylde are dead good at collecting Scouse loanees, to be fair. It’s basically become a work experience exchange with Everton – only difference is, nobody makes you mop the floor at Finch Farm. George will get some first-team action, real men’s football, not just standing behind cones while Sean Dyche does a lungs workout. Hope he’s ready to dodge long throws and elbows from strikers who look like they just clocked off the night shift at B&Q. That’s how you earn your stripes. Half of these young keepers could do with a winter in the National League. Toughens them up, stops them acting like Insta models after every save.
There’s Only One Pickford (But Apparently Now There’s Two)
I’ll say this though: the last time the wrong Pickford left Finch Farm, we nearly ended up with Joel Robles doing Cruyff turns. Not this time, la. George goes, Jordan stays, and all’s right with the world – except for the Premier League table, VAR, season ticket prices, and the price of a Bovril. But you get my point.
Imagine being the lad arriving at Fylde and every fella on the team goes: ‘Any relation to…?’ No pressure, George. Just try not to boot every ball into Row Z or drop one through your legs. And if you do it, at least you’ll fit right in. My Sunday League team could get you a trial if it all goes tits up.
Still, this is what football’s become, isn’t it? Mistaking surnames and pretending a National League loan’s headline news. Ta-ra to George for now – let’s not all have a collective meltdown next time, eh?
