The torrential downpour arrived earlier this week, with a bitterly fitting sense of timing. As the harbinger of the impending Storm Darragh unleashed its deluge over the north-west of England, video footage captured the stands and stairways of Everton’s new stadium being inundated with rainwater, filling and flooding the concourses below. This is likely not the image one would desire when envisioning a new £760m waterfront stadium, constructed on a floodplain, flanked on three sides by the River Mersey, and designed to endure decades of climate change and rising sea levels.

Naturally, Everton was swift to quell any concerns, asserting that the new stadium would feature an advanced “siphonic drainage” system intended to handle heavy rainfall, though it has yet to be installed. This response answered one question but raised another. According to the club’s timeline, the stadium is slated for completion “in the final weeks of 2024.” It might be prudent to expedite the installation of that drainage system.

The intention here is not to ridicule Everton’s new stadium, which should still be ready for the start of next season and, from what we can already discern, looks quite impressive. However, it does provide a glimpse into the perpetual trials and tribulations that come with supporting this club: a series of calamities and setbacks, hitches and anxieties, where every bright horizon is shadowed by a dark storm cloud. It’s a multicoloured dreamscape that always seems within reach but remains elusive.

In this context, and despite the nostalgic tributes, Saturday’s Merseyside derby feels like a significant milestone. The last derby at Goodison Park—barring an unexpected FA Cup draw or a drainage mishap—is a moment not just for commemoration but for celebration. Yes, things will never be the same. But for Everton in 2024, perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

Recent events have cast a positive light on what has often been a daunting fixture for Everton fans. The 4-0 victory over Wolves on Wednesday night lifted them out of the relegation zone, a reward for a cautiously promising autumn run in which Sean Dyche’s side lost only two out of 11 matches in all competitions. The Friedkin Group takeover should be finalized soon, bringing an end to a two-year saga that has been emotionally draining for all involved. Liverpool leads the league but dropped points at Newcastle and has had minimal recovery time. This might not be the worst time to face them.

Thus, the derby approaches. Whether through Walton Road, the park, or the narrow terraced houses adorned with Christmas wreaths, down Gwladys Street for one last encounter with the rival. In many ways, this rivalry is perfect: a suffocating intimacy that rarely escalates into genuine danger, an antipathy that rarely feels like hatred, warring siblings rather than neighbors, a reminder that football has long been the most important of the unimportant things.

Of course, the days of the “friendly derby” are long gone, if they ever truly existed. For Liverpool’s players, Saturday’s match will be a test of technique, character, and nerve, with a wall of noise from all four sides, a reception as confrontational as any early slide tackle. If the Anfield derby often feels like a procession—Everton’s only win there in the 21st century came during Covid without fans—then the Goodison derby is a different beast, a genuine contest that often defies the form book. Howard Kendall’s 1980s team won only one Goodison derby in eight attempts. Jürgen Klopp’s dominant Liverpool side won only twice in eight visits.

These moments of triumph are all the more cherished. Liverpool fans of a certain age still fondly recall the 5-0 win at Goodison in 1982, a counterattacking masterclass that evolved into a merciless rampage. There was Dan Gosling’s ecstatic extra-time winner for Everton in a 2009 FA Cup replay. And Goodison was scarcely louder than in April when Dyche’s team dashed Liverpool’s title hopes with a spirited 2-0 victory.

However, derby day at Goodison is not the whole story. The stadium, for all its charm, has recently begun to feel like a haunted house, marked by awkward silences and occasional outbursts of groaning. The football has been mediocre in style and standard. There have been exhausting battles with relegation, authorities, owners, and coaches. Everyone is a bit worn down.

For now, Everton appears safe. They play like a Dyche team, have spent like a Dyche team, and will likely survive like a Dyche team: painfully, painstakingly, with a hard-working but limited squad that will soon need rebuilding with funds that do not exist. Dominic Calvert-Lewin will likely need a proper replacement soon. Jarrad Branthwaite may have to be sold if the offer is right. Fifteenth place should be within reach.

The question is whether Everton can realistically aspire to more. Perhaps the answer lies in the gleaming panels overlooking the Mersey from Bramley-Moore Dock, in the steep slopes of the new 13,000-seat South Stand. Another rainstorm is always on the horizon. There will be stadium debt to manage, and challenges to face. But right now, any future feels better than the present.

Saturday marks an end. But it also signifies ambition, renewal, change: the novel sensation of moving forward for a club that has spent so long stagnant.

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