In the year of our Lord 1985, on Merseyside, the familiar red heartbeat had been usurped by a resurgent blue thunder. Howard Kendall’s Everton, having not just nudged but forcefully shoved their city rivals aside to clinch the league title by a staggering thirteen points – a chasm that spoke volumes of their dominance – now carried the hopes and dreams of the Goodison faithful onto the grand European stage. The Cup Winners’ Cup was a journey embarked upon with a quiet determination that soon blossomed into a fervent pursuit. Everton’s presence in this prestigious European competition was earned through their triumph in the previous season’s FA Cup, where they defeated Watford 2-0 at Wembley in a final that sparked the beginning of this glorious era under Howard Kendall.
Their passage to Rotterdam, while ultimately successful, began with a more measured step against the part-time students of University College Dublin. The two legs were a far cry from a sweeping victory, culminating in a narrow 1-0 aggregate win for the Toffees. It was Graeme Sharp, signed from Scottish second-tier side Dumbarton, who etched his name as the first Everton scorer in this European campaign, his goal proving the decisive strike that hinted at the greater things to come, even if the journey began with somewhat understated efficiency.
Then came the more comfortable dispatching of Internacionál Bratislava in the second round, a 3-1 aggregate victory secured with a commanding 3-0 win at Goodison after a narrow away defeat.
The quarter-final saw Everton face Dutch side Fortuna Sittard. This tie showcased Everton’s growing confidence, as they swept aside the opposition with a resounding 5-0 aggregate win, including a 3-0 victory at Goodison Park where Andy Gray bagged a hat-trick, followed by a 2-0 away win with goals from Graeme Sharp and Peter Reid. This dominant performance propelled them into the semi-finals and a clash with European giants Bayern Munich.
The semi-final against the might of Bayern Munich — ah, that was where the love affair truly ignited. The giants from Bavaria, a constellation of international stars – Matthäus, Hoeneß, Pfaff – arrived at Goodison Park expecting to quell the upstarts. But they hadn’t accounted for the twelfth man, for the very breath of the Old Lady herself — Goodison Park, under the floodlights, roared with a fury that Bayern never saw coming.
The roar that greeted Graeme Sharp’s opener against Bayern. The collective holding of breath as the Germans threatened. Dieter Hoeneß briefly breached the Everton defence, becoming the only player to score past the magnificent Neville Southall in the entire European campaign before the final. The eruption when Andy Gray’s tenacity paid dividends. The final decisive goal from Trevor Steven sealed a famous victory.
Southall, signed from lower-league Bury, was a bedrock of their resilience. Peter Reid, a midfield general acquired from Bolton Wanderers in the second tier, epitomised their tireless spirit. Sharp, plucked from Scotland’s lower reaches, provided the cutting edge. These were the cornerstones of a team assembled with shrewdness rather than extravagant spending.
The 3-1 victory over such formidable opponents was a declaration forged in the white heat of Goodison’s embrace. The away leg in Munich was navigated with steely resolve, a 0-0 draw enough to secure their place in the Rotterdam final. Kevin Ratcliffe, a proud graduate of the Everton youth system and a natural leader, captained this remarkable side; his commanding presence and unwavering commitment were a constant inspiration.
But the path to Rotterdam wasn’t without its own dramatic subplot, a European theatre playing out in parallel. Rapid Vienna’s journey was intertwined with the passionate rivalry of Celtic. The Parkhead cauldron had roared as Celtic overturned a first-leg deficit, only for controversy to erupt. A bottle, a claim, a UEFA intervention that ripped the tie from Glasgow’s grasp and transplanted it to the neutral soil of Old Trafford. Imagine the what-ifs, the tantalising prospect of a blue and green final, a clash of two of football’s most fervent followings. But fate and UEFA’s decree had other plans. Rapid emerged from that stormy replay, their passage to face Everton tinged with the echoes of that tumultuous encounter.
The final itself, under the Dutch skies, felt almost like a coronation. Everton, bathed in the adoration of their travelling support, played with a confidence born of their domestic dominance and their spirited European campaign. The goals from Gray, Steven, and Sheedy were love letters etched onto the fabric of Everton’s history. The final whistle, a release of pure, unadulterated joy. The Old Lady’s boys had done it. They had brought European silverware back to Goodison.
Guiding this exceptional group of players was Howard Kendall. Already a club legend from his days as part of the ‘Holy Trinity’ midfield, his return as manager had ignited a new era of success. The league title won with such authority, and now the European Cup Winners’ Cup cemented his place in Everton folklore. For the Goodison faithful, Kendall wasn’t just a successful manager; he was a messiah, a figure who understood the club’s soul and delivered the glory they had craved. This European triumph elevated him to almost god-like status amongst the Evertonian faithful, his name forever intertwined with the most celebrated chapter in the club’s history.
His genius lay not just in tactics but in his ability to unearth and nurture talent from all levels of the game, blending lower-league finds with established quality to create a European champion. At the heart of Everton’s defensive resilience stood Neville Southall, signed from Bury, a goalkeeper whose displays throughout the season and the European campaign bordered on the supernatural, earning him the Football Writers’ Association Footballer of the Year award in 1985. Remarkably, leading up to the final, Everton had only conceded a single goal in their eight European matches, a testament to the formidable defence expertly marshalled by Southall’s brilliance.
Yet, the embrace was fleeting. The joyous celebrations were soon overshadowed by the tragedy of Heysel and the subsequent ban that slammed the door on English clubs in Europe. For Everton, champions of England – by a country mile, no less – and now European trophy holders, it was a cruel twist of fate, a love affair abruptly curtailed just as it reached its passionate crescendo. Their hopes of further European conquests and of etching their name among the continent’s elite were cruelly taken from them.
But the spirit of that team, the roar of Goodison on those unforgettable European nights, the memory of that glorious triumph in Rotterdam – these endure. They speak of a time when Everton stood at the summit, a team forged in the passion of their city and the unwavering embrace of the Old Lady. The boys of ‘85, forever etched in blue, their European dream, though tragically brief, burns brightly in the hearts of Evertonians still. It was more than just a cup; it was a testament to the enduring love between a club, its players, and its magnificent, irreplaceable home.