Carra: My Autobiography (7 page)

Once the depressing news of the ninety-six deaths of those innocent Liverpool fans had sunk in, winning the FA Cup meant nothing to us. The final was an irrelevance compared to what the Liverpool fans had suffered, and there was a real feeling of solidarity inside Wembley that afternoon. It was an exciting game, which Liverpool won 3–2, but none of it compared to 1986. The defeat never hurt. As an Evertonian, quite correctly I felt like a guest at Wembley that day. It would be the last time I'd travel to see the Blues for a major final under the Twin Towers.

After all those Wembley and European jaunts, relegation scraps now became our main priority.

I was at Lilleshall in May 1994 when we played Wimbledon in the game that could have led to relegation. I came home to my mum's for the weekend, but neither me nor my dad had a ticket for the game. Wimbledon went 2–0 up, prompting an urgent phone call.

'Come on, lad, we're going up there,' my dad said. 'We won't get in, but I just want to be at Goodison now, whatever happens.'

We weren't alone feeling this way. It seemed every Evertonian we knew who couldn't get into the game was standing outside the ground. People talk about the religion of football, and at a moment like that it's true. It was a spiritual matter. Everton were about to be relegated. It would feel like a bereavement. And what do you do at funerals? Meet your friends and console one another.

We got to a turnstile and banged on the door. A steward opened it, my dad somehow blagged us through, and we got in for the last thirty minutes. Everton were still trailing, 2–1, and we were expecting to witness the death of our proud record as the longest-serving member of the top division.

We saw all the drama unfold as Barry Horne and Graham Stuart turned it around and Everton survived with a 3–2 win. I was euphoric and headed straight for my first full-on night out. 'You can forget Lilleshall tomorrow,' I thought as I headed for a debut on Liverpool's nightclubbing scene. My coaches weren't happy when I failed to turn up the next day, but I'd do the same again. I wasn't going to miss those celebrations for one coaching session. It was one of the most enjoyable hangovers I've ever had.

My professional commitment to Liverpool started to take over shortly after this and, naturally, my perspective altered as my emotional attachment to Anfield grew. My eyes were opened to the more unattractive side of the rivalry between the clubs, and I increasingly began to notice the cruelty and spitefulness in many of the jibes thrown at Liverpool and its players by Evertonians.

Merseyside's local paper, the
Liverpool Echo
, repeats the same article every time Liverpool and Everton meet, asking readers, 'Whatever happened to the friendly Merseyside derby?' They put on rose-tinted glasses and walk down a picturesque memory lane at Wembley in 1984, 1986 and 1989, crowded with Reds and Blues skipping jovially arm in arm as the chant of 'Merseyside' echoes in an upbeat Scouse twang across London. I was there, and it's a comical exaggerated perception of how it really was, but it's right to say there was more unity on show then than now. The fans are segregated these days and seem to have developed a maliciously blinkered view of their history, where everything positive is exclusively a consequence of their own valiant efforts, and all things negative are the responsibility of conspiracies, refereeing decisions or, in Everton's case, Liverpool. The atmosphere is much meaner than I remember as a fan. Local journalists sense this and always have to be balanced and make sure they don't upset one side more than the other when discussing the topic. They usually end up upsetting both by getting into a tangle of contradictions, saying neither one thing nor the other.

As someone who's been a Blue and a Red, I feel more qualified than most to offer my opinion on where it all went wrong. I can't avoid the conclusion that the bulk of the responsibility lies in the reaction of many of Everton's fans to the barren spell the blue half of our city has gone through, and their treatment of Liverpool players who are my friends. It's added a sinister element to the rivalry which wasn't always apparent, and it has forced me to undergo a complete transformation in loyalties.

I'd never go so far as to say I hate Everton in the same way some Liverpudlians claim – that's much too strong a word. But I hate losing to them more than to any side in the world, in the same way my Blue mates hate losing to Liverpool. That's partly because I hate what Evertonians sing about Steven Gerrard and his family at every derby. It's personal, it's vindictive, and it's disgusting. It goes beyond the kind of banter that is acceptable in any form of life, not only football. One of my best mates, Robbie Fowler, had to put up with similar abuse for years. He wrote in his book how the scandalous drug taunts, invented for no other reason than to try to put him off his game, hurt him and his family. No one should have to suffer that. We know as footballers we're going to get ill treated by opposition fans, but when people start telling lies and then turn them into despicable chants, I'm appalled.

Liverpool fans are hardly blameless in this respect. They have targeted rival players from Everton and Manchester United during our fixtures with some vile taunts. I'm no fan of Gary Neville, but he suffers when we play United in the same way Stevie does, and Robbie did. So did David Beckham when he was still at Old Trafford. John Terry has also heard foul insults at Anfield. You can't make a judgement about one set of fans without looking at your own.

Nothing can justify this sort of behaviour, but there is a difference with this abuse, inexcusable as it is: it is kept within the stadium. You don't get thousands of Scousers spreading malicious rumours about Neville on the streets of Manchester. And you don't hear Liverpool fans singing about Everton, United or Chelsea players if we're not playing them. Evertonians consistently chant about our lads whether they're facing Liverpool, Reading or Portsmouth. It's not confined to derby day. I even hear it on television when they're playing in Europe.

Maybe the part of me that knows deep down that, Red or Blue, we're exactly the same gives me a different perspective. I find it so depressing to hear Scousers target their own. On Merseyside, you can sense it's become a lot worse over the last twenty years, and I fear the trend will become tougher to reverse unless common sense prevails soon. I loathe hearing Evertonians calling Liverpool fans 'murderers' in reference to the Heysel disaster of 1985, when fighting with Italian fans before the European Cup Final led to the deaths of thirty-nine Juventus fans. Players and fans get abused like this around town now too. I can't understand why this has started in recent years, and it's a big reason why my relationship with Everton has turned sour.

Forget Manchester United or Chelsea. Everton are the team I want to beat more than any every season.

I feel more strongly about it because I followed them for so long. I was one of them. I know what it means to be a die-hard Blue so I'm speaking as someone who's been there and worn the Everton T-shirt. When you get hurt by those you feel closest to – or perhaps more particularly, when you see your best mates unjustly under attack – there's no way back.

Since Everton lost their way you hear less and less arguing about which club has the better players; there's now more of a preoccupation with wagging an accusing finger at Liverpool at every opportunity. If there's less to celebrate on the pitch, there's more to complain about off it. Liverpudlians have still been able to keep a focus on trophy collection, but Everton's decline has led to a flourishing industry of historical reinvention. The same excuse is regularly put forward: all Goodison's woes began after Heysel, which led to all English clubs being suspended from UEFA competitions. The European ban hurt Everton, that's unquestionable. I watched a fantastic team capable of competing at that level, and there was no one more devastated than me when the club was unable to play in the European Cup. But over a quarter of a century, some Evertonians have somehow managed to manoeuvre the club into the role of victim in the sordid affair.

I was too young to remember what happened that night in Brussels, but I do know the hostility shown to Liverpool fans in the years that immediately followed was nothing compared to now. The clubs were closely matched at the time; there was no reason to presume one side would be affected any more than the other. I certainly didn't chant 'murderers' at Liverpudlians at derby games, and I can't recall becoming involved in arguments claiming the actions of the fans in Brussels had ruined Everton's chances of being successful in the future, short or long term. In fact, if anyone had suggested the tragedy would lead to Everton's decline as an annual title challenger, I'd have mocked them and told them it was no more than the Kopites' wishful thinking. Anyway, Everton won the title two years after Heysel, so the argument about them going into freefall because of it doesn't stack up.

Everton began to lose their way at the top of English football when Howard Kendall followed the money to Spain in 1987. Colin Harvey took over and bought three or four expensive players who weren't up to the job. The claim Kendall wouldn't have taken the cash and left had Everton still been in Europe is one only he can answer, but it certainly doesn't explain the two decades of poor decision-making at every level of the club since. Just like Liverpool after Kenny Dalglish quit in 1991, it was bad judgement in the transfer market which caused the decline in standards. When you buy the wrong players every summer, there's no escape from mediocrity, and no excuse.

Harvey also didn't command the same level of respect from the senior professionals who'd brought the club so much success. His record wasn't bad compared to those who followed him, but at that time Everton expected to be title challengers every season. Unfortunately, the board kept making calamitous decisions. Some of the managers they've appointed since, and the speed with which they've sacked others, has left them behind the Premiership 'elite'. That's what cost them their place as title contenders as part of the traditional 'big five'. There's a massive gap between Everton and Liverpool now in terms of trophies won, and I don't see them getting anywhere near where it was all those years ago when the sides were neck and neck in the silverware count.

As I said, the European ban isn't the reason for this. I know plenty of Evertonians who, deep down, agree the club has only itself to blame. Liverpool suffered because of the ban too, as did Arsenal, but both clubs were run better in the years that followed.

If you really want me to show sympathy for clubs that suffered during that time, I'll save it for the likes of Norwich and Wimbledon, who also missed out on European football. They were unfashionable teams without the kind of history and backing Everton enjoys. Everton didn't need the money as much at the end of the 1980s as they do now, and if you look at the kind of fees they were spending even in 1989, when Cottee's signing broke the British transfer record, it shows why they paid the price later. Poor Norwich are now struggling in the Championship, and Wimbledon no longer even exist. If Liverpool visited Carrow Road or Milton Keynes, I wouldn't expect to hear their fans screaming 'murderers' at us. Those Evertonians who adopt this chant as a sinister club anthem on derby day ought to ask themselves why. That side to the rivalry increasingly disturbs me, though you've got to make a distinction between this and other elements that can be put down to a good old-fashioned traditional love of one team over the other.

I've gone from being someone in the Liverpool side whom Evertonians privately thought was still one of their own, to a player they now feel epitomizes the enemy. At the same time, I've been cut more slack than my teammates, probably because of my openly Blue past. There are Toffees who still believe I wear an Everton tattoo on my arm. I eventually discovered where this rumour began. 'Which Liverpool player always wears long sleeves to hide an Everton tattoo?' was a question doing the rounds in city pub quizzes. Answer: Jamie Carragher. Has anyone ever seen this tattoo? Can the artist who put it on my arm step forward so I can meet him? My brothers have even become involved in arguments at work with fellas who insist, despite all the evidence to the contrary, I've got the Everton crest on my arm. This has been going on for so long I hope I can knock it on the head once and for all. It doesn't exist. Maybe this myth explains why I've never been treated as badly as Robbie and Stevie.

The reason I wear long sleeves, incidentally, is because I think I've got skinny arms.

I've played in many derbies now, and I can honestly say I've always tried to be as careful as possible with my pre-and postmatch comments. There have been times when I've made a point of biting my lip, trying to be respectful. We took a 3–0 beating at Goodison a couple of seasons ago and the DVD of the game was in the shops a week later. It should have been in the horror movie section. I had a nightmare and was nowhere near 100 per cent, but at the time I was asked about our performance straight after the game I said we were beaten fair and square.

Too often I've felt the same courtesy isn't shown to Liverpool by Everton. On their side, you had someone like Alan Stubbs, whom I consider as Blue as they get. I know Alan's from Kirkby so his own fans probably didn't think he was really a Scouser, so maybe that's why he liked to play to the gallery a bit. The Liverpool dressing room was always having a giggle at Alan's expense, because when derby day came along we knew he'd be having a good cry at us over something, especially if we won. But there are times I feel they have zero respect for us. While we tiptoe around making sure we don't cause a furore, many of their former (and current) players have felt they have the freedom to slag us off. It's a small but annoying sub-plot of every derby. The rest of the country might be bemused Liverpool should even care what Evertonians say about us, but within our city it's huge.