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It’s not been an enjoyable season for Everton fans. That much is obvious. At this point, we’re all ready for it to end. There’s a World Cup to watch, a manager to fire, and exciting players to recall from loan.
Sometimes, though, something happens during the course of a match that astounds even the most jaded supporter. On Saturday against Burnley, Ashley Williams put in a performance for the ages. A performance so complete in its ineptitude that words cannot do it justice. Thankfully, I have a solution.
Act One: The Disappearance of Chris Wood
You might think, dear reader, that losing track of a 6’3” striker would be hard to do. Well - you’d be right. For our resident Welshman, though, no challenge is too tall.
When the ball from Jóhann Berg Guðmundsson is sent airborne, Williams begins his descent into obliviousness. Rather than watching his mark, Ashley appears to be basking in the glorious scenery of...Turf Moor? Those Dafabet ad boards won’t ogle themselves, folks.
There is only one result here. The New Zealander Wood is vertically gifted. He requires Ashley Williams’ full attention, and gets none. Ol’ Ash prefers to hand off the responsibility to Michael Keane, except the Everton number 4 is reasonably occupied elsewhere. Keane’s reaction to the goal says it all.
Keane immediately fires a withering look at Williams, justifiably so. Even Cuco Martina has a glance as if to say “bro, even I wouldn’t have done that.”
Regrettably, failing to mark one of the largest players in the league on a set piece would not be the last of Ashley Williams’ game-altering mistakes.
Act Two: The Barnes Bludgeoning
Lest you think that Williams was un-arsed about having basically conceded the game winner by himself, the stand-in captain was determined to make up for his mistake - to channel his anger into something productive. That’s good, right?
An opportunity to equalize has arisen. Ashley sizes up his target. Is another thumping header on the way?
Two Ashleys, locking eyes and sharing in their identical names. The romance of it all might overwhelm you if what happened next did not send one of them to the shower. As Gylfi Sigurdsson gently caressed a ball into the box, our Ashley makes his move.
An arm lands square across their Ashley’s face. He crumples, and our Ashley’s race is done. Within minutes, one man has successfully ruined the weekend of Evertonians worldwide.
There is but one thing left to do. The disgraced must complete the walk of shame, handing over his captain’s armband to the less embarrassing teammate - you know, the one who drives drunk with strange women.