everton f.c. vs aston villa timeline

Everton vs Aston Villa: A Timeline of Two Cities, Three Continents, and One Very British Neurosis
≈600 words

It began, as so many of the modern world’s ills do, with a telegram. On 22 September 1888, a flustered clerk in the Liverpool Post Office tapped out the score—Everton 2–2 Aston Villa—to a bemused colonial administrator in Bombay who had just finished breakfast and was wondering why the Empire still cared about men in knickerbockers chasing inflated pigskin. Thus was the first transcontinental shrug at the Merseyside-Midlands pas de deux recorded for posterity.

1890s–1930s: Globalisation in long shorts
While European powers busily redrew borders with crayons and Maxim guns, Everton and Villa quietly exported the concept of “glorious, gut-wrenching failure” worldwide. A Villa tour of Argentina in 1904 taught porteños that conceding late goals is a transferable life skill; Everton’s simultaneous missionary work in Brazil introduced the locals to the exquisite agony of believing you’re title contenders until mathematically impossible. Somewhere in São Paulo, a child looked up from a muddy pitch and muttered the Portuguese equivalent of “same old Toffees, init.”

1960s–70s: Cold War, warm pies
As superpowers practiced mutually assured destruction, Villa and Everton practiced mutually assured mid-table stability. The 1968 FA Cup semi-final—won by Everton en route to Wembley—was beamed via crackling Eurovision relay to a NATO listening post in West Berlin. Analysts mistook the roar of the Gwladys Street for troop movements and raised DEFCON 3. Somewhere in the Kremlin, a sardonic colonel filed a report titled “Capitalist morale: fragile, yet strangely loud.”

1981: The Ron Saunders Gambit
Villa’s First Division title under the chain-smoking, scowl-merchandising Saunders arrived the same year Ronald Reagan began arming the Contras. Coincidence? Four decades later, declassified MI5 minutes reveal a brief, delirious minute where Whitehall considered parachuting Saunders into Managua because “nobody expects tactical austerity from a Brummie.” Everton fans consoled themselves with the Charity Shield and the knowledge that moral victories age like Scouse tap water.

1994–2002: The Sky Sports Panopticon
Satellite dishes sprouted on Soviet-era apartment blocks from Kyiv to Vladivostok, piping in Premier League matches at 3 a.m. local time. When Everton’s Andrei Kanchelskis—yes, that brief, bewildering fever dream—scored a derby winner against Liverpool, the collective gasp in a Murmansk sports bar registered on Norwegian seismographs. Villa, meanwhile, discovered that appointing John Gregory was the football equivalent of investing in Pets.com: briefly fashionable, instantly catastrophic.

2005–2016: Debt, Dubai, and the Existential Scream
While global markets discovered the joys of sub-prime mortgages, both clubs mastered the art of leveraged mediocrity. Everton’s 2009 push for fourth place ended with the same crushing predictability as the Eurozone’s, culminating in Phil Jagielka’s penalty miss in the 2012 FA Cup semi—an event mourned by derivatives traders in Canary Wharf who’d bet the over on English set-piece humiliation. Villa, for their part, embarked on a bold experiment to see how many managers could be fired before the HS2 reached Birmingham. The answer, dear reader, is seven.

2020: The Pandemic Derby
When COVID-19 forced football behind closed doors, Everton and Villa met in a surreal Goodison ghost match. The only spectators were seagulls and a cardboard cut-out of Bill Gates that someone had smuggled in to protest 5G. Villa won 2–0; conspiracy theorists in three languages took this as evidence that lizard people favour claret and blue. The WHO issued a statement nobody read.

2022–23: Points Deductions & the Saudi Shadow
Everton’s ten-point penalty for creative accounting arrived the same week COP28 delegates argued over whether to italicize “phase-down” or “phase-out.” Villa, freshly bankrolled by NSWE (the investment arm of a man who once tried to buy an entire Bulgarian league), began flirting with Champions League qualification. One Emi Martínez inspired victory over Everton prompted a Buenos Aires radio host to declare Villa “the spiritual Boca Juniors of the Midlands,” which is simultaneously the highest compliment and cruellest insult imaginable.

2024: The Farce Forward
On 14 January 2024, Everton and Villa drew 0–0 in a match so devoid of incident that the BBC used the highlights package as ambient sleep content. Yet the global ripple was immediate: crypto traders in Singapore coded the “Dyche-Slow-Burn Volatility Index”; a Lagos betting syndicate retired the phrase “Everton that” and replaced it with “Villa away”. Somewhere, a weary historian updated the ledger: two more hours of human existence surrendered to the beautiful, pointless game.

Conclusion
From Raj-era telegrams to VAR-era heartbreak, the Everton-Villa timeline is less a sports rivalry than a recurring stress dream of late capitalism. Each fixture is a reminder that while empires rise, markets crash, and continents drift, somewhere in England twenty-two millionaires will still misplace a five-yard pass and forty thousand people will derive cosmic meaning from it. The world turns, the planet burns, and the result is probably a draw with controversial officiating.