The Campbell derby - 10 years on

I managed to get a ticket for the game, but in the Liverpool end, so my build up to the match was spent outside the Anfield Road end desperately shouting "any swaps," hoping to entice any Reds fans with Everton end tickets to do a deal.

Unfortunately, as kick off approached it became apparent I would not be able to join my fellow Blues in the away end, most swappers were looking for pairs, though there were also a surprisingly high number of Reds fans willing to sit with Toffees.

So with the teams entering the field I gave up and ran round to the main stand to take my seat among the enemy. Thrown from my Goodison Park comfort zone I went to the wrong end of the stand, meaning I needed to run nearly the full length of the pitch to reach my seat, which was located at the far end of the main stand, looming over the Kop end goal.

I managed to take my seat, breathless, just as we took a throw-in on the far side of the field. Barmby (boo!! hiss!!) made the touch, Jeffers dinked a beautiful ball through to Campbell, who promptly volleyed underneath Westerveld.

Despite my weary limbs I jumped out of my seat, I wasn't going to hide my true colours, and neither were several Blues around me, who rejoiced in our early strike.

The rest of the game was absorbing if not a classic. I was so engrossed in the action that I didn't realise I knew the person sitting next to me until the half time break. A brief derby chat followed, me a Blue, him a Red, like the English and the Germans on Christmas Day in World War One - we met in no-mans-land and put our differences to one side for 15 minutes.

He predicted the game would stay one nil, I wasn't so sure, but neither us correctly guessed the chaos that would follow.

Firstly, a decent Everton move saw Jeffers go through on goal only to run into Sander Westerveld. The pair then proceeded to playfully slap each other like a couple of angry schoolgirls, one of the funniest "fights" you will ever see. They rightly saw red though you couldn't help thinking they should have at least connected with one of their blows to truly warrant their cards. With all Liverpool's subs on the field, defender Steve Staunton put on the goalkeepers gloves!

The only chance I can remember came from a deflected Jamie Redknapp free kick which was superbly kept out by Paul Gerrard. The former Oldham keeper didn't have the best of times at Goodison, but if there was a high point in his Toffees career, it was those few autumn months at the end of the millennium.

In front of Gerrard skipper Richard Gough was immense. Despite being 75 he led by example, snuffing out every Liverpool attack with stubborn defiance. Alongside him David Weir, a spring chicken in comparison, began to show the qualities that would see him become an established Premier League and International defender in the ensuing years.

As time ticked down my nerves began to fray and the realisation of a possible win at Anfield began to hit home. As six minutes of stoppage time was called Steven Gerrard became the third person to see red, with an outrageously high challenge on Kevin Campbell. That wouldn't be the last we'd hear from Mr Gerrard...

As the red hordes began to drift away, no doubt to catch their flights home, my fellow Blues began to smell victory. By the time the ref blew the final whistle my part of the stadium was virtually empty.

My immediate reaction was to find the nearest Evertonian and give him a big hug (stock football fan response I do believe). A group of us chanted down towards the rapidly emptying Kop End, while also applauding our royal blue heroes. With the players off the field I ran over to the other end of the Stadium, where the majority of Everton fans were located, to join in the celebrations.

The sight and sound of Anfield, empty, except for fans in Blue, was a sight to behold and treasure, even more so now given a decade has passed without another win. I knew even then to make the most of it.

Thankfully Everton's Premier League record, unlike our results at Anfield, have vastly improved since that September evening.

Back at the end of the 20th century seasons of struggle were only lifted by results against Liverpool. Rare high points in what were long seasons of dour, turgid football. Thanks to David Moyes we no longer yearn for derby wins to lift our gloom.

But that isn't to say we aren't desperate to end our Anfield hoodoo. Snatching three points from underneath the Shankly Gates is as satisfying as they come. And the lack of an away derby win is one rare gap on Moyes' Everton C.V.

Since arriving in 2002 Moysie has helped us to end our barren runs at White Hart Lane, Elland Road and Craven Cottage, so often Everton graveyards.

If Moyes can add Anfield to that list later this season, it will be the sweetest of the lot.