Sir Bobby said:
 
"We should have won. We had a marvellous first-half – I would say the best we've played since I came here. But for a 20-minute period after we scored we were really flagging.

"I can understand why because this game should have been on Monday. We played on Thursday night. That extra 24 hours would have been vital for us. It's so little time to recover, the extra day is very important. It affected us and we have suffered from that one day."

On the penalty:

"It was the only time they damaged us. If they had got the three points, it would have been a steal; Everton hardly got a kick."

Walter Smith:

To follow
 

Curmudgeonly I may be, but what "The Times" called an impressive display left me cold (and wet, being a Leazes Ender.) Admittedly, with a slight element of luck victory would have been ours, but against a side Walter Smith must have torn into at halftime, precious home points were spurned.

In the current issue of the "Match of the Day" magazine, Bobby Robson shares a cup of Earl Grey and a fondant fancy with his old Craven Cottage colleague Jimmy Hill. Amongst the inevitable but enjoyably wistful references to mineshafts and Wor Jackie, SBR restates his policy of playing with wingers, to exploit well....width. Sorry Bobby, but your team today were as narrow as a bulimic supermodel, crowding around the middle of the park like bairns on their first day in the playground.

In the early stages it looked as if Gallacher was tasked with the job of providing ammunition to the front pairing of Shearer and Ferguson, but he soon graduated inside to what we must now call "the hole", and consequently what service there was to the front two came headon to the Toffees defence, rather than round the weak flanks that Leeds had exploited in recent weeks. 

Ferguson again looked the happier of the two United strikers and showed one of two impressive pieces of skilful control, rare in a bloke that looks like he was fashioned at Swan Hunters. The one obvious chance of the opening period came when Shearer got himself one on one with Gerrard, but the smothered shot rebounded harmlessly before being whacked away. Such is the faith in the mercurial number nine, that the rest of his colleagues idled on the halfway line, expectantly waiting to join the celebrations. The lazy buggers.

Everton were thoroughly rotten and the introduction of Newcastle fan Tommy Johnson for the second half only marginally improved them. Fellow Geordie Don Hutchinson played in a very deep role, while the third visitor with alleged black and white eyes, John Collins, again disappointed. The suspicion that Monaco knew what they were doing when they let him leave continues to grow....

For once United seemed to time a goal just right, with a Shearer penalty looking to thwart Everton ambitions within minutes of the restart. However, the visitors were allowed to take a more active role in the game and a 1-0 lead never looked enough. Little Tommy of course ran around like an excited laddie with new boots, and inevitably ended up in the referee's notebook after one too many vigorous tussles with United players, chiefly the knackered-looking Robert Lee. 

Rather more laidback was the scorer of Everton's inevitable equaliser, Kevin Campbell, a man who has known precisely where the nets are at Gallowgate for the best part of a decade. A run and cross from Nick Barmby, who would be an automatic selection for England were he to get off his backside and play more often rather than moan, fell perfectly for Campbell and his header neatly popped past Harper. 

So 242 minutes since we last conceded a league goal we were back looking for a winner.  Progress of a sort I suppose, we were measuring the time between goals in seconds earlier the season.....

The Robson response was to do very little, and although Gallacher struck a post, movement on the bench wasn't translated into firm action until Silvio replaced big Dunc with five minutes left. This baffled me, as what we lacked was service to the front two and Glass sat motionless on the bench when he should have been on in place of the rapidly fading Solano and unproductive Gallacher. 

With time rapidly ebbing away, five more minutes of lobbing balls at Ferguson in the box might just have seen a knockdown and a scrambled winner, but it was a mite unfair on Maric to expect him to wave his magic wand. 

No matter, a point is a point and we soared to the dizzy heights of 16th place. A continuance of our point-collecting habit and the upcoming Cup games can be enjoyed by both players and supporters.

Chant of the day: "Tell Me Ma, Me Ma, I won't be home for tea, we're going to Italy." Bellissimo.

Biffa