By Leslie Edwards
Liverpool 4, Everton 0
This was football fit not only for our Lord Mayor and 55,000 of his citizen’s, but for a king. Disregard (and followers of Everton will have no difficulty in so doing) Liverpool’s three goals in as many minutes when the match was all but over, and you still have the most sporting and altogether estimable meeting of the clubs for twenty years. Fanfare for the winners, please, and one even if in minor key, for the manner in which Everton took what intimately became something of a thrashing. These goals were pearls beyond price in the making and scoring, Sagar stood up well, to No 1 at 14 minutes – Stubbins. After these sandwiched between the 80th and 83rd minutes this almost supernatural goal-minder sat on his haunches for a few moments as though bemused by the intensity of the barrage. Liddell clearing through at 80 minutes, brought the ball up to the post and then astonishingly slotted it home in a space which must have looked as small as the slit in a child’s money-box. A minute later he was clean away again and Briersley neatly drifted the ball beyond Sagar with a lethal flick of the head. At eight three minutes Balmer brought the ball down from a Brierly corner to make a drive which (unlike some of his fierce first half one’s) had the twin merits of place, and direction, Sagar, the hero who had kept out shot and shell from friends (notably Farrell) and foe (notably Brierley). Fagan, Stubbins, and Paisley was down out and thoroughly dismayed. For eighty minutes, in which the far superior Liverpool forwards ranged about him fiercely, he had been beaten only by a Stubbins flick turned far beyond the goalkeepers clutches after a Taylor-Stubbins-Balmer-Stubbins move a crisp as a stick of celary. They were all truly beautiful goals mostly of the kind one can see’ coming” long before the ball is in its last resting place.
No use pretending this game had a four-goal margin look until the thing happened. There was merely the Stubbins goal-between them for so long it looked like being a tight squeeze, with the possibility, if not probability that Everton would snatch a levelling goal. They have a way of succeeding at Anfield. Maybe I am inclined to over-emphasise the joy of the match. If I do it is probably because it seemed to me that here, for once, two teams set out to play hard fair football, to put on a model display of how the game can be played at best. They succeeded. The only serious injury came when Lindley, and Saunders bumped heads and needed attentions. Where there was so much artistry, so much keen, clean endeavour, it is not easy by name outstanding units. Certainty home of the Everton forwards can be included because switched or in normal position they were not good enough “on the day” against a defence which gave nothing away.
Sagar and Paisley
Some will name Sagar for the great goalkeeping; others Paisley for a display of stamina and splendid use of the ball. Nor must it be forgotten that Lambert was in his most stubborn mood that Taylor toughed peak form and that Hughes played as well as a Jones at centre half and Jones in that unutentation as was of his headed and kicked a ball with almost 100 per cent accuracy. Liverpool as a side have played better this season only at Preston they were greater. Hedley had a fine spell against Liddell, we began to think he had his measure then Liddell set the game alight in a peculiarly forceful way. But one cannot vault Hedley’s value to his side, nor Jones nor Farrell, nor Lindley. If there was one nostalgic moment last night it came after 10 minutes when I was seen that once and for all little Alec Stevenson is slowing to the point in which he cannot do what he did so effective for so long. If this proves his last Derby, it can always be said that he went out gracefully as one of the most memories matches against his rivals.
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