It’s a crisp winter mid-day at Goodison Park. I’m stood on my chair, centre-left of the Upper Bullins stand, insulated from head to toe in a huge inflatable bubble coat, blue and white scarf and woolly gloves. My mum, who’s sat down to my left next to me, suggested I should stand up to get a better view of the action but at the moment I’m casually watching Neville Southall pace around the edge of his area as he casually watches the action further on up the field.

Neville Southall hasn’t had much to do today, Everton are 4-0 up and currently giving a thumping to Graeme Souness’ toothless Southampton side. I’m still watching Big Nev’ when the ground starts to wake up. A cross is floated in to the back post where two Everton players are unmarked, I punch my arms in the air as the ball is headed into the net and subsequently fall arse-first through my seat.

“It’s Kanchelskis, Jace!” My mum turns to the right expecting to meet me at eye-level only to look down and find me stuck in the pike position, wedged between two of the components of Goodison’s wooden furniture. My parents help me gingerly out of my seat. My dad tries to ask me if I’m alright with a serious face but can’t help breaking out into a smile. I smile; this is one of the happiest moments of my life and Andrei Kanchelskis is the trigger behind it.

My idolisation of Kanchelskis had started almost a year before the ‘deck-chair incident’. Everton were the FA Cup holders, and were beginning to gain momentum in the league. My dad took me along to my first home game on Boxing Day to see the blues take on Middlesbrough and their tiny Brazilian box-of-tricks Juninho. Everton powered through the Teeside team, Kanchelskis completing the 4-0 rout with a trademark right footed near -post finish.

Signing the Russian from the biggest club in the country for a fee of £5 million was a statement of intent from Joe Royle. After the heroics at Wembley in the summer, the club was putting a squad together that could fire Everton back up into the business end of the table. We had an experienced defence, a biting midfield that had enough guile to win most battles in the centre of the park, and a terrifying centre-forward in the shape of Duncan Ferguson.

But for all of Big Dunc’s ability as a target man, it was Kanchelskis who was the real penetrative outlet for the season. The ball would be clattered around the midfield for a bit before it would fall to the inside-right of the field just inside the opposition’s half. From here the Russian would spear onto the ball at full speed, accelerating past the defenders and making a bee-line for the goal before driving a shot low and hard towards to the goalkeeper’s near-post.

By the time of my 6th birthday I had caught the football bug, spending most of my free time dribbling up and down the park, belting the ball against my neighbour’s fence and creating 11-a-side football teams out of Lego. My parents rewarded my fanaticism with my first Everton replica shirt. I was chuffed. “If you want to get some letters on the back, there’s a shop in Connah’s Quay where we can get them done” said my mum.

Mother came back from the local sports shop with my fantastic royal-blue top emphatically adorned with the insignia I’d requested on the back: ‘JONES-17’ (My surname-Kanchelskis’ number). The shirt became my uniform as I ran round the garden, continuously blasting shot after shot at the aforementioned neighbour’s fence. JONES-17 was netting hat-tricks on a habitual basis; the only thing that could stop his ferocious finishing was the angry neighbour confiscating my ball.

Kanchelskis meanwhile, finished of his debut season with a majestic hat-trick away at Sheffield Wednesday, his final tally of 16 goals helping to propel Everton to a fantastic 6 th place finish.

There was no respite for Andrei however, as Britain braced itself for the ecstasy of Euro 96. Whilst everyone else was looking forward to the impending England-Scotland grudge match, my attention was firmly focused on Group C; one of the most morbid group of deaths ever to have of graced a major tournament. It contained the two eventual finalists in the Czech Republic and Germany, but even more importantly it contained my mother’s home team of Italy and Kanchelskis’ Russia.

I had aimed to remain neutral when Italy and Russia took each other on but by the end of the match I had cracked, my love of Kanchelskis thwarting whatever enjoyment I could take out of an Italy win. Whether it was down to the effort he had put in the season before, the Russian coach’s insistence on playing him in the wrong position or the mere fact that the calibre of the other teams was of a much higher level to that of his own, Kanchelskis was anonymous during the competition. I had stopped caring about Euro 96 by the time Russia limply failed to make it out of the group stage.

After going through the suffering of my first major international tournament, my mind quickly turned back to Everton. I had reasons to be optimistic; Gary Speed had just signed from Leeds to add to Everton’s already combative midfield. However, the hangover from Euro 96 seemed to linger on. The thrashing of Southampton aside, Everton and Kanchelskis couldn’t get anything going in the 1996-97 season and my dad was warning me of Russian-mafia connections trying to wrestle the flying winger off to another, more-lucrative contract away from the club.

All this negative fore-warning bounced off me nonetheless. For my 7th birthday me, my mum and my dad ventured up to Goodison Park to watch Everton take on Bradford City in a 4 th round FA Cup clash. The blues continued their dismal form into this game, fuelling my competence in the dark arts of swearing my tits off. At 1-0 down Kanchelskis collected the ball on his own inside the Everton half, and was being chased down ruthlessly by a Bradford goon. Unfamiliar with his new sweeper position, Kanchelskis turned himself into trouble and the ball fell to Chris Waddle who hit a preposterous 40-yard lob that sailed over Neville Southall’s head.

The guillotine that my dad had been trying to bring to my attention had been brought down in spectacular fashion and a couple of days later Kanchelskis was sold to Fiorentina for around £8 million.

I still love Everton; I love the fact that we play in a stadium with wooden seats and a church in the corner, I love the fact that we can mock Manchester City fans for spending too much money, I love the fact that we’re once again competing near the top end of the table. Deep down however, there’s still a wound in my heart that yearns for a cold, clear, winter’s day when I’ll look over to the right flank and see a long-sleeved Everton shirt with number 17 on the back draped over the speeding figure of Andrei Kanchelskis.

Everton 7-1 Southampton http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9wUebatokU

Everton 4-0 Middlesbrough http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irS2zorsw7I

Everton 2-3 Bradford http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_K4C5P8IjE