Everton, My Dad, and a Lifetime of Memories

I recently met Sean Condon, a Toffee based in Canada. Originally from the North West of England, where his love for Everton was founded. 

Sean's words, as told by Laura. 

The first time I set foot in Goodison Park was in the spring of 1973 for Tommy Wright's Testimonial. From that moment, Everton became a part of me. I went to games as often as I could until my family moved to Canada in the summer of 1977. The last match I saw before leaving was a pre-season 2-0 win over Anderlecht—the same day Liverpool and Manchester United played in the Charity Shield. I remember begging my dad to take me to that match for some reason, but Goodison was where my heart truly was.

I spent years saving up money, and in December 1986, when I was 17, I made it back. Four matches over Christmas. Then another return in the spring of 2009, just before the FA Cup Final.

Everton isn’t just a football club to me—it’s a thread woven into my life’s most cherished memories. I’ll never forget the 1985 FA Cup Semi-Final against Luton Town, my dad and I on edge as Luton improbably held onto their lead late into the game. And then, that moment—when Sheedy buried that free kick in the 87th minute—my dad literally toppled over backwards off his kitchen chair.

He passed away in 1995 from brain cancer at just 54. The last match he ever saw was the FA Cup Final that year. We had watched the Amokachi semi-final against Spurs at the Glasgow Rangers Supporters Club in New Westminster, surrounded by people who weren’t Blues. But by the end of it, I didn’t care. I was drunk, standing on tables, screaming Everton songs. My dad, head bandaged from his recent tumor removal, sat below, beaming up at me, drinking beer despite being in the middle of chemo.

He was a great man. It was him who got my Auntie Jo hooked on Everton in the ’60s—she only just stopped going recently because my Uncle Bob has developed Alzheimer’s. I saw him yesterday, and it was profoundly sad. But despite everything, my aunt and I have spent most of our time together talking about the Blues.

Back in the mid-80s, Everton was the one shining light in our lives. My parents' marriage was falling apart, my dad was unemployed, and our house was anything but happy. On top of that, I was struggling through adolescence, feeling lost. But we had football. I had a ghetto blaster with short-wave radio, and every Saturday morning, we’d tune in to the BBC World Service, straining to catch live commentary of the second half of a First Division match. That was how we experienced Everton’s glory years together. Those Saturday mornings meant everything. They kept us connected when nothing else seemed to.

For the past few years, I’ve worried I might not make it back to Goodison before she’s gone. But I shouldn’t have worried. The way Evertonians have welcomed me back has been overwhelming. My heart is full. I’ve walked through fire in this life, but to be where I am now, to have this experience, is more than I ever could have imagined.

Up the fucking Toffees.