It’s been two months since I last wrote you a letter. At the start of the season, I promised you drama of Hitchcockian proportion, and to an extent that prophecy has come true during that time.

I have just returned from a visit to Paris, the city of light, where I marvelled at the Mona Lisa, Oscar Wilde’s grave, and the plight of begging women with fake babies and distraught-looking men selling Eiffel Tower keyrings at 3 for one euro. And I was enlightened.

As with any holiday I guess, there is the danger of anti-climax, of expecting too much – of putting Nil Satis Nisi Optimum (or more aptly, given the 40th anniversary of the Paris student riots of ’68, Soyez Realistes, Demandez L’Impossible) above reality’s bites. The holiday though, represented the season, from Everton’s and my own points of view. How can this be? As Mr Grossman used to say, when we all watched Through the Keyhole agape at this weirdo’s drawl, let’s look at the evidence.

It was Everton’s best season for twenty years! Highest points total ever in the Premiership! Scintillating stuff played at times too, with one sublime performance resulting in them being likened to none other than Keats, and Moyes, lauded by James Lawton as the best young manager in Britain. However, lest we forget, we also missed out on the holy grail of fourth, were knocked out of Europe on penalties, having beaten the eventual winners, were defeated at home by Oldham (some still blame the chippy fire) and lost another semi-final to a not-very-good Chelsea team.

What I mean is that the Sunderland victory was like standing in front of La Joconde, something I’ve always wanted to see. As Ricky Fitts, the plastic bag filming freak in American Beauty said, ‘sometimes, there’s so much beauty in the world, I feel like my heart can’t take it’. I’ll be honest, that afternoon in the Louvre was like nothing else I’ve ever felt, but back in November the 7-1 win was the best victory I’ve witnessed from the Gwladys Street…

Similarly, our visit to Pere Lachaise cemetery, primarily to see the grave of Edith Piaf, was a bit like the Fiorentina match. To make such a link might seem strange, but let me explain. Spending two hours wandering around a load of graves in the rain won’t be many people’s idea of a good time, but neither would clawing back a two goal deficit before losing on penalties. However, that evening at Goodison was perhaps the most satisfying moment of the season, particularly after Arteta’s goal when the ground was literally bouncing. We don’t get many magical European nights, in fact I’d imagine other teams will soon get bored of special atmospheres if it doesn’t lead anywhere, but I felt such pride and so little disappointment exiting the UEFA Cup that I realised I was a changing man, I’d learned how to handle failure and ‘death’ and ultimately, celebrate it.

There were nice surprises along the way too, Steven Pienaar and Leon Osman’s flashes of brilliance, Phil Jagielka’s improvement, the group stages performances… whilst in Paris, the view from the roof of Galeries Lafayette, an amazing Armagnac elevenses, a thriving street market ran by Maghrebins – the list goes on.

Incase we need any more alignment of the trip away and 2007-8, we even bumped in to Everton’s fitness coach outside the Louvre whom I watch warming the team up every game.

And, just like our season, the holiday ended on a high with a trip up the Eiffel Tower, when we won the league within the Premier League and can look forward to more trips away with excitement. See what I did there?

Don’t get me wrong, I did have such high hopes at one point that I felt small pangs of regret that we limped across the finishing line on a wet day in May when, with a bit more luck, we might have been gathering cups like the other shower used to. And, there were minor disappointments in Paris – a slightly overcooked steak, not finding the Rue Des Trois Freres, getting soaked on an open top tour bus, breaking the hotel room safe, and a still ill girlfriend – but expectations were not set so high that this was a let down. Far from it, the new me has managed to take the good bits and concentrate on the positives. I wrote a while ago about smiling on the way out of the Clattenberg derby, I was also thankful that I missed the Oldham game to go the theatre instead, and applaud Joleon Lescott for an incredible season rather than bemoan his letting SWP outjump him in the last minute at the Bridge.

I wonder though, how other teams’ supporters might view their own seasons, and how they might look for similarities from their own lives. Many I feel would be disappointed. After an exciting run-in, the final day was for many an anti-climax. Carlisle looked at one point to be cruising towards automatic promotion, and even beat Leeds for the first time, before a crushing last minute play off semi final second leg defeat. As the PA played after the final whistle, heaven knows (they were) miserable now, but can take solace in the improvement made under John Ward, especially at home. Kieran Westwood gained even more fans, including the Trap.

Morecambe had perhaps the most reasons to be cheerful, as they stayed mid-table for most of the season and can look forward to welcoming more league teams to the recently opened Midland Hotel soon enough. Elsewhere in Lancashire, Preston and Blackpool looked perilous at times but did well to stay up – particularly Preston who went from disappointment under Simpson to some promising signs with Alan Irvine.

Blackburn Rovers though, might have expected more from their season, but can be pleased that Santa Cruz and Bentley performed brilliantly, and they might yet hang on to their manager. Which takes us to Liverpool, and yet again overall they flattered to deceive. Defeat against Barnsley, not turning up again at Old Trafford, and Rafa’s luck finally running out against Chelsea in Europe – all set against frankly comical boardroom shenanigans – mean they could easily be the most disappointed team in my region. But, another thing I’ve learned this year is not to be bitter or resentful towards the loveable Reds, and so I’ll be positive. Frankly, I find it almost impossible to care, but in Fernando Torres they have for me the player of the season, it’s now not solely up to Gerrard to save them, and if he continue his form into the difficult second season maybe next year will actually be theirs.

Before I have to worry about that though, we have the European Championships to look forward to, and to be honest I think it will be nice not to watch xenophobic sunburnt drunkards crying in the fan parks or fighting on the slopes when England lose. I’m quite excited about the likes of Spain, Italy and even Germany doing battle, as I’m sure it’ll whet our appetites for 08-09.

Particularly as I’m planning to return to New York for next year’s summer jaunt, just imagine if our season was to be a reflection of that…

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my correspondence this season.

Everton, Paris, EFP – Je t’aime

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