August 24, 1892
A day of supreme happiness to the managers of the Everton Football Club was last Wednesday, and their faces beamed with smiles of twelve-inch gauge. In the words of the poet: –
“Such a night you never saw,
Before they’d time to say the prayers,
Scraps and bones were all that were left
Of the banquet at the Adelphi.”
Nobility shed its gracious light upon the company round the festive board, and each said to the other, or seemed to say; “Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we dine off common steaks, with a pint pot accompaniment.”
And Kurly said: “Let there be peace,” and there was peace, likewise several of them. By the time that everyone was beginning to feel comfortable and ready to settle down for a little hilarity or other wine, there was a move for business, and the Rev. Gee Gee, geeunior, came in, with a solemn look at a steady step, for he abhors all levity and carnal amusements such as dinners, and giveth them not countenance.
“For the chaplain is a man who drinks not, neither, therefore, does he spin. Me. George Mahon, who sat at the top of the table, in order to see that nobody stepped beyond the bounds of prudence or tried to ruin the proprietors of the hotel, said some nice things about the president of the English Association and Dr. Morley and the Everton Club, and they all congratulated themselves that they did their best to prevent footballers from allowing their angry passions to rise or to scratch each other’s eyes.”
Mr lord said: – “I Kinnairdly believe it, and then remarked that he was glad that Everton had obtained a ground of their own, and that they would do all they could to take it outright, and hand it over to the youngsters and youngsters’ youngsters. Whereat they cried with a loud voice,“ Hear, hear; we shall, providing we get four per cent.”
Then chariots were taken and the Everton prophet, which Coates is his arms, corks his motto, and Nick Ross his abomination, looked unutterably happy, and could have thrown halfpennies to the small boys who cheered.
It was a glorious sight when the cavalcade marched across the turf, as springy and thick as if it had been laid for a hundred years, and cheers were sent up for my lord, which said cheers were of the course braxenly acknowledged by “Kurly” and the “chaplain,” who think at times they are footballers or somebody, and not of the common clay.
The band played, the players ran, fireworks blazed, ten thousand people seemed to be vastly diverted, and officials brimmed over with affability as they reckoned upon shekels and prosperity. Thus a new era in Liverpool football was suspiciously ushered in, and there is small blame to those who had laboured so hard for months past to get things in order for feeling more than usually proud on a day which was one of the greatest in the history of the Everton Club.
(Field Sports: August 29, 1892)