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characteristic they'd earned after years of success – so naturally I rejoiced when they were beaten. They reacted the same way if Everton lost, although you still hear the more dishonest claim otherwise.

One of my earliest memories of the Merseyside derby rivalry came courtesy of Everton's defeat to Manchester United in the 1985 FA Cup Final, which I attended as a seven-year-old. As our coaches returned to Bootle shortly after midnight I vividly recall a group of Liverpool fans who'd been waiting for our arrival so they could give us stick. We'd won the League and the European Cup Winners' Cup, and had enjoyed arguably the best season in our history, so we were hardly in mourning. But there they were, desperate to twist the knife, even if that meant celebrating a United win. Any time I hear Liverpool fans say they're more bothered about Manchester United than Everton, I think about that night and those lads who must have been standing outside for hours for no other reason than to have their moment of fun at our expense. They're probably the same people who say Liverpool fans don't care about Everton. Oh really? So you weren't celebrating Norman Whiteside's winner? I wouldn't be surprised if 'Thank you, United' was written on the wall of a few Liverpool pubs that night. In my opinion the derby rivalry is bigger and far more important to the city than the one with United.

Liverpool and Everton fans had to take it as much as dish it out to each other back then, but it wasn't underhand and was always based on what was happening on the pitch. We could share the bragging rights because in the mid-eighties we were undoubtedly the two best teams in Europe. My loyalties were exclusively to my heroes in blue, and I wasn't shy of showing Liverpool fans, players and staff how I felt about my team, even while I was training alongside Anfield legends. In fact, signing for Liverpool made me want to show my true colours even more, even if it sometimes got me into trouble.

I remember returning with the Liverpool reserve squad from a mid-afternoon game early in 1996 while Everton were playing an FA Cup third round replay at Stockport. The radio match commentary was on as the coach made its way back to Melwood, and naturally I was listening to every word and urging Everton to win. Stockport scored, and Ronnie Moran and Sammy Lee, who were in charge of the reserves at the time, couldn't hide their delight.

'One–nil!' shouted Ronnie, the sense of joy inescapable.

Sitting at the back of the coach, I simmered away inside, praying we'd get back into the game.

Then my moment came. Everton equalized. I couldn't resist.

'Get in!' I screamed.

'Who the fuck was that?' shouted Ronnie, who as the first-team coach was still in the dark about my youthful loyalties.

I wouldn't say it was the cue for a witch hunt, but Ronnie might as well have been holding a pitchfork as he swooped to find the culprit.

The next day I was hauled before our youth coaches Hugh McAuley and Dave Shannon for one of those 'quiet chats' footballers have to get used to during the course of a career.

'Listen, Jamie, you've got to sort this out,' Hughie said to me. 'The senior staff have high hopes you'll play for the first team. It's time for you to start behaving like a Liverpool player.'

I walked out of that meeting having heard the warning, but it was going to take more than a gentle pep talk to stop me loving Everton.

The first time I was named sub for the senior team was an away fixture in Middlesbrough in 1996, and even then my mixed loyalties couldn't be hidden. At halftime I was warming up with the other subs as the latest scores from elsewhere were being read out over the tannoy. Everton were winning 2–0 at home to Newcastle. It was the day Alan Shearer was making his debut for the Geordies, so I was pretty impressed by the Blues' efforts.

As I was going through my routine, I spotted my dad, who'd come to the front of the stand. He was eating a meat pie as