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Alex Ferguson's decision to let Tim Howard leave Manchester United shook the young American goalkeeper.

The youngest player ever to win the US Major League Goalkeeper of the Year award, and an instant success at Old Trafford, his time under Ferguson soon soured.

When he was told he could join Everton on loan his shaken confidence needed a boost - and it was given one by the Everton supporters who Howard credits with “saving him.”

In his newly published autobiography The Keeper, Howard writes: On Saturdays, they come streaming towards Goodison Park, a parade of blue. Blue scarves, blue hats, blue jerseys, blue jackets. They crowd into pubs – the Thomas Frost, the Brick, the Leigh Arms, the Lisbon – to knock back pints before the match.

Some remain in the pubs through the game; others depart for the stadium – pass through Goodison’s turnstiles and take their seat in the bright blue stadium chairs.

If they’re loud and rowdy, they head for the Gwladys section, behind the goal at the north end. That’s where the hard-core fans, the true nutters, congregate – the boisterous heart and soul of the home crowd. It’s in Gwladys that the madness of the stadium reaches its fever pitch. It’s where the songs echo loudest, where the ebb and flow of the game. The despair and the ecstasy, are felt most deeply.

Not that there’s a single inch of Goodison where the fans stay quiet. Their cheers and groans and chants mirror precisely the action on the field. I swear, there are days when it feels like cause and effect have merged into one, as if those supporters are no longer reacting, but are instead dictating the tempo of the game.

Looking back, I think it was those fans, above all else, who saved me.

I loved Everton from the start. I loved that in this funny old stadium I felt closer to the fans than I’d been since my Imperials days. Goodison Park is so compact there’s not even room for a security gate between fans and the field. When I took my place in goal, I didn’t simply hear the roar of the crowd, I heard individual fans calling out, ‘Come on, blue boys.’

This was English football the way it used to be, from the rowdy fans right up to its Liverpool born-and-bred owner, Bill Kenwright, an Everton fan from boyhood.

Even the locker room felt so much more down-to-earth than at United. On one wall was an image of Alan Ball, one of the Everton greats, with his quote: ONCE EVERTON HAS TOUCHED YOU, NOTHING WILL BE THE SAME.

It was true: I was welcomed with open arms. Somehow it didn’t matter to my new team-mates that i’d been warming the bench. I’d been at Manchester United, the holy grail of English clubs. They were ready to listen to what I had to say.

I felt like a leader for the first time since arriving in England.

IT’S an integral part of any superstitious footballer’s matchday ritual.

As Everton players emerge from the tunnel at Goodison Park, you will see several reach up to to touch the “This Is Everton” sign.

But not Tim Howard.

Not once. Not ever.

And in his newly published autobiography The Keeper, Howard explains exactly why. It goes back to his first appearance in a Merseyside derby, just four games into his Everton career, in 2006.

He writes: THERE’S a lot to remember about that first derby. I recall, for example, the moments before the game: lining up in the tunnel with my new team against our historic rivals. Neither side looked at the other. There were no hands shaken, no half hugs or fist bumps or friendly claps on the back.

All eyes were fixed forward. I remember the flood of pride I felt when the theme from Z-Cars (an old British television show), today the Everton fight song, started up, the crowd going wild. I remember the walk out to the field, all my new team-mates touching the Everton sign HOME OF THE BLUES.

I didn’t touch it: I was only on loan and I hadn’t earned that honour. Not yet.

But what I remember most are those fans. They reminded me, in many ways, of my own family: they were roll-up-your-sleeve, blue-collar fighters who’d had to scrap for everything they had. In the same way that I once wanted to give my mom that Mother’s Day goal, I wanted to give those guys something to cheer about. I wanted them to be able to walk into work on Monday morning with their heads held high.

I made my first save inside ten seconds and I made every one after that. We won the game 3-0. We crushed Liverpool. It was Everton’s biggest victory over their neighbours for 42 years. The crowd went absolutely bonkers.

I’ll admit up front that the line between superstition and preparation – maybe even superstition and OCD – can be very blurry. But the things I did before those early Everton games felt right. So I did them the next time. And the time after that. For example, I didn’t touch the Everton sign in the tunnel before the derby. Although by now I’ve earned the honour, I have never touched it since. Hundreds and hundreds of games later, I still won’t do it.

TIM HOWARD was a major Manchester United signing in 2003 - and was a Wembley hero on his debut in the Community Shield against Arsenal.

But after a bright start to his Old Trafford career he was axed, and then sold after just 77 first team appearances.

Six years later, at Wembley Stadium once again, Howard had the opportunity to show Alex Ferguson that revenge was a dish best served cold.

In his newly published autobiography The Keeper, Howard explains: Three of us – me, Phil Neville and Saha – were former United players. We didn’t say it, but I know we were all thinking the same thing: how sweet would it be to beat the manager who had deemed us expendable?

...

Jags had a fast run up to the ball, and nailed it.

The blue side of Wembley went wild then. I sprinted toward my team-mates. I made it about 15 yards from the goal area before I was wrestled to the ground by my team-mates: Joleon Lescott and Steven Pienaar and Tony Hibbert, then everyone else. It was the best kind of mayhem – guys throwing themselves on top of me. Tugging and hugging and piling on.

The Z_Cars song started playing, our anthem. Up in the stands, Bill Kenwright looked as if half of his 65 years had fallen away in that moment of triumph.

Someone had tossed an Everton scarf onto the field. I don’t know who threw it, don’t know anything about that person’s life – where they worked, or what their family was like, or what challenges they faced as they walked through this world. I will never know what they sacrificed to be at Wembley that day.

But I knew this: they’d sent that scarf flying down to the field out of gratitude. I picked it up and raised it high over my head.

Later, in the locker room, I sat down next to Tony Hibbert. I tossed my towel over my head to wipe the sweat from my face. But instead of removing the towel I left it there. I sat for a moment in the dark, amid all the cheers and whoops of my celebrating team-mates.

And before I understood what was happening, I clutched the towel to my face and began sobbing.

I didn’t care that my team-mates could see my shoulders shake. Didn’t worry if my cries could be heard over the sounds of their laughter.

Jags noticed. “Hey, Tim? You all right?”

Then Hibbert’s voice. “Yeah. He’s all right.” I felt his hand on my back. “He just needs a minute.”

Hibbo understood. He understood without me telling him. He realized exactly what this game meant for me.

We hadn’t won the final, mind you. In fact, we wouldn’t. We’d lose to Chelsea 2-1, despite taking a 1-0 lead 25 seconds into the game. And that loss would hurt.

But as I sat in the Wembley locker room with that towel pressed against my face, I wasn’t thinking about the game ahead.

Right now all I heard in my head was a single line on endless repeat: I slayed the dragon.

The Keeper, by Tim Howard, is published by by Harper Collins and is available from Tuesday, December 9 for a recommended retail price of £18.00.

A specially updated version of the book for young readers - the Keeper: The Unguarded Story of Tim Howard - is also available for £9.99

Tim Howard will be signing copies of his book at Waterstone’s in Liverpool One on Friday from 4pm-5pm.