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Where do I start?
More than 60 years of following my beloved Everton, it’s been a long time and picking out just one or two memories from that period is impossible.
Being an Evertonian makes me intensely proud. When the players pull on the royal blue shirt, they are representing me and the thousands upon thousands of Evertonians around the world.
They represent our passion, our pride in the Club, plus its long and illustrious history.
Our sense of community, togetherness and fair play. Our regard for others and for doing the right thing. We exclude no one and welcome everyone.
We preach the blue gospel and welcome new converts.
But memories? Well, there are many, often with joy boundless and pride immeasurable.
What about those lucky enough to see The Golden Vision combine in 1963 as Alex Young leapt like a salmon to score a fantastic header from what seemed to be a mile out, securing a 1-0 win against title-rivals Tottenham Hotspur?
Seeing Roy Vernon in the directors' box at the end of that season, cigar in hand and celebrating the winning of the League title.
Bessie Braddock stood nearby with a smile as wide as the Mersey.
There was the queuing all night outside Goodison for tickets for the 1966 Cup final – all worth it in the end.
Knowing where you were when you found out we'd signed Alan Ball.
Champions again in 1969/70.
The fabulous Kendall era, multiple League titles, the FA Cup and, of course the Cup Winners’ Cup. The-never-to-be-forgotten win against Bayern Munich.
A crucial win against Wimbledon, remembered by me not just for the result but also because of the lady next to me with her rosary beads praying throughout the game.
The relief, the joy, the tears.
There was also the FA Cup success of 1995, my first final and a true win against the odds.
Big Dunc's diving header against United, one that all but secured fourth place. Goodison was rocked to its foundations when the ball hit the back of the net that night.
I later moved to Sydney, but the Everton memories didn’t end for me, even on the other side of the world.
Joining the ‘Blues Down Under’ supporters' club, I met like-minded brothers and sisters united by their love of Everton.
Then came the chance to ask my wife in 2015: "Do you fancy going to see the Blues?”
She replied: "Sure, where, here in Sydney?"
"No, Singapore,” I responded. “They're playing in a pre-season tournament. We're not going to get to see them for a while."
Thankfully that was no problem for her: "Okay, sure, why not," was the answer.
An hour later, the flight, hotel and tickets were all sorted. I couldn’t believe it; we're going to see my beloved Blues.
We arrive in Singapore and somehow blag our way into the team hotel.
I see our manager, “Roberto, Roberto commo es....”
My attempt at Spanish ends with a 60-odd-year-old man blabbering some unintelligible rubbish.
Roberto Martinez, smiled and asked: “Do you want a photo?”
“Yes,please,” I respond.
Then I see Seamus and I get another photo; I can't believe it.
Off to the match, the result isn’t a positive one, but I am just proud to be amongst fellow Blues.
I head to a meet-and-greet after, and there was Sharpy, Diamond and Snods, I feel like I have died and gone to heaven. What a trip.
I feel so lucky to be an Evertonian.
More memories that I can put down on paper and hopefully many more to come in the years ahead.
Pride, passion and a love that will no doubt be tested but never die.
COYB.
By Frank Tucker, Evertonian
