You find out Everton’s up for sale again, and you don’t even blink, do you? Same old script: new owner flashes a big smile, big promises, then legs it when things get hairy. Proper Mersey tradition at this point, like white sliced bread and questionable corners at Goodison. This time it’s The Friedkin Group (they sound more like a dodgy 90s boyband than a set of football owners) looking for the escape hatch. Everyone’s asking what happens next. I’ll tell you what happens next: a lot of meetings, a lot of statements, and a lot more sighing into your pint down the pub.
First off, if you’re the type who gets excited by takeovers, you must love Groundhog Day. Feels like Everton’s been ‘for sale’ more times than my uncle Eric’s bike on Facebook Marketplace. Every few months it’s a new circus in the boardroom, some American investment lot arrives, tosses out a few buzzwords – ‘project’, ‘heritage’, ‘community’ – then realises they’ve bought a season ticket to stress and sackings.
The Romance of Unwanted Owners
This time, it’s The Friedkin Group reportedly heading for the exit. Fair play, wouldn’t fancy balancing those books either. Still, wouldn’t hurt if they at least left the lights on at Goodison, or sorted out that leaky roof. And let’s be honest, the last fella to turn a profit running Everton was likely taking chips out the Gwladys Street chippy. We’ll probably get some shadowy investment ‘consortium’ next – all in designer suits, no idea what a Derby is.
Meanwhile the real fans are stuck as usual, watching their club tossed around like that inflatable banana they threw in the Park End in 1993. Owners chase a quick buck, but all we want is a centre half who can actually head the ball and a left-back that doesn’t play like he’s allergic to crosses. I’ve seen better defending down Stanley Park, la.
Enter the Next Chancers
So who’ll be next to fancy their chances? Some tech billionaire who thinks ‘offside’ means bad WiFi? Maybe a Hollywood type, hoping another ‘Wrexham’ moment’s on the cards. Behave yourself. Everton don’t do fairy tales – we do nil-nils in the rain and defenders who hoof it to Row Z. Anyone buying in should know: you’re not getting some Instagram trophy club. You’re inheriting a fanbase that’ll love you if you’re sound, and hound you if you’re not. Just ask the last five chairmen.
Evertonians are proper stubborn – generations of us, sticking with this lot through thin and thinner. Owners might come and go, but the crowd stays, moaning and hoping in equal measure. It’s a living, breathing club – not a spreadsheet with a stadium attached. So to all would-be buyers: good luck. You’ll need it. And if you can fix the leaky pies in the concourse, I might even clap for you.
Never boring, is it? Anyway – if you fancy reading the official, less sarcastic update, here’s the BBC’s latest. Ta-ra for now.
