*Merson magic lights up the gloom*

Can there be a sorrier sight than two of English football’s true giants thrashing around in such an undignified, unedifying fashion? That we had a goal was remarkable: that it was one of such beauty was, in the circumstances, unbelievable.

As a wretched match played in driving rain crawled into its final minute, Paul Merson, an aristocrat amongst artisans, clipped the ball up and over the Everton goalkeeper Paul Gerrard from almost 35 yards and watched it drop into the net.

“The conditions were difficult, truly awful, and that contributed to our goal,” said John Gregory, Villa’s manager. “The ball must have moved all over the place in the wind and you can’t blame their keeper for that. But it was still a special goal. That’s something that Paul is always capable of.”

It was Villa’s only shot on target but it was enough to give them the most undeserved of victories. Everton were poor but they deserved better from a game that ought to be swiftly forgotten.

At least there had been a measure of fun before kick-off. The shivering hordes were treated to a brief firework display, one that left the stadium cloaked in impenetrable smoke. Unfortunately, shortly before the referee Stephen Lodge raised whistle to his lips for the first time, it cleared.

Long before an interval that could not come a moment too soon, those present were looking back fondly on that pyrotechnic display. It was no longer smoke hanging in the early-evening air, rather a sense of gloom.

With Everton willing to chase a goal but lacking the guile to create an opening despite Aston Villa’s timidity, this was always a poor game.

For all Merson’s selfless running between Villa’s midfield and forward line, for all Thomas Gravesen’s endeavour, for all Paul Gascoigne’s delicate promptings, there was little to fuel the belief that here was a game that would entertain the faithful.

Sadly for Everton, Gascoigne, the one man who seemed capable of taking on the mantle of matchwinner, did not make it to half-time, departing disconsolately with a leg injury. “It’s his thigh. We don’t know how bad it is yet but he will see a specialist,” said Walter Smith, the Everton manager.

It was not until the 43rd minute that the first corner was won. It was lifted into the box by Gravesen and met powerfully by David Weir, but David James did well to tip over the Scot’s header.

At least the referee saw fit to introduce a dash of controversy to proceedings. After 45 minutes Merson sprinted into the area but as he shaped to cross, Weir clattered him from behind. It looked a penalty but Lodge was having none of it.

It was only the deterioration in conditions that precipitated an upturn in the entertainment value after the break, for as the surface became increasingly treacherous, even the most cultured of feet began to make errors of judgment.

Everton did almost fashion a breakthrough before the hour but after doing well to reach Mark Pembridge’s cross at the far post Gary Naysmith was horrified to see James, who finished with a bloody nose after a clash with Kevin Campbell, turn his header on to a post.

Thereafter Everton’s David Unsworth did his level best to get sent off as it rained and rained. “It wasn’t a very pretty match,” Gregory said, “but Merson can always do something to win them for us.”