ONCE upon a time there was only one club which dominated on Merseyside and – shock, gasp, horror – it wasn’t Liverpool.

Everton, the blue half of this fanatical footballing city, ran the show. Defined by history and tradition. And players such as Dixie Dean (who still holds the record for his incredible tally of 60 goals in the 1927-8 season and which will NEVER be broken), Tommy Lawton and “The Golden Vision” Alex Young.

Look at them now. In dire financial difficulties and unable to borrow one more pound coin from the banks according to luvvie chairman Bill Kenwright, a London West End impressario.

The beginning of the end for Everton came in the early 1960s with the appointment of the immortal Bill Shankly at Anfield. And the man who single-handedly created the legend that survives worldwide to this day. And which eventually relegated Everton into being the subsidiary club on Merseyside.

“Football is not about life and death,” he once rasped in that thick Scottish burr. “It is more important than that.” Priceless. And he meant it too. What a character. When he so sadly passed on they threw away the mould.

Shankly truly believed he was Jimmy Cagney. The Hollywood icon of gangster movies was his hero and his idol.

It still sticks in the gullet when Evertonians see one of their very own, Wayne Rooney, kiss the badge that is moneybags Manchester United. It is not his fault of course. You go where the money is and the medals are. Loyalty doesn’t have a price.

And history is about to repeat itself it appears with Fergie leading the chase (closely followed by Chelsea and Manchester City) for 17-year-old midfield sensation Ross Barkley, another Everton local boy.

He is valued even now at £30 million, which would create a new world record for a teenager, dwarfing the not inconsiderable £26 million paid for Rooney.

To their eternal optimism Everton keep on producing – but then they have to sell to survive. It must break the heart of manager David Moyes.

For example their matchday revenue over a whole season is £20 million. Compare that to United’s £100 million. Former chief executive Trevor Birch says this of Moyes: “He is armed for hand-to-hand conflict – when competing against armoured artillery. Only a new stadium will enable Everton to compete.”

But where is the money coming from?

One of my favourite restaurants in Weymouth is Floods on the Harbourside. Its proprietor is Tom – born and bred Liverpool and a die-hard Evertonian. “No money – no hope,” he sighs. “It is hard to take considering our history of always producing brilliant footballing sides.

“Was there a better midfield than that of Ball, Kendall and Harvey? I doubt it. But the game is now all about money – look at this nonsense with Carlos Tevez at City.

“A player going on strike. Ridiculous. Moyes produces a miracle every season against all the odds.”

Wouldn’t it be the supreme irony when Fergie decides to call it a day that the man chosen as his successor could be David Moyes?

I know his name has been mentioned in despatches.

Particularly so now that hot favourite Jose Mourinho has blotted his copybook at Real Madrid with his rants and touchline fisticuffs against Barca.

This Saturday at High Noon it’s another mouth-watering Merseyside derby to savour at Goodison – and it speaks volumes for Moyes that his team will fight until they drop.

Even with one hand tied behind his back.