Football Poets

It was a late September
Not as far back as Sixty- Three
Much more near the year Seven-tee

All day at school I was in a dream
trying to figure out my team.
As the history teacher ranted
about ancient Greece and Rome
all I cared about that day
was getting to my home.

It was around seven that night
that my mate came ‘ round
and we placed the green velvet
down on the ground.

This was our Wembley
on my bedroom floor
and for lads of eleven
we could wish no more.

Subbuteo cup rounds
we’d played through the year
and now the conclusion
was coming so near.
Now the last two teams standing
played for the crown
It was Manchester united against Ipswich Town.

A quick cup of char before we did start
as we make preparations
to try look the part.
We have small lit up floodlights
to give off atmosphere
and a couple of terrace stands
where all the fans can cheer.
A referee and two linesmen
and various other props
And to ensure there’s law and order
we station two large cops.

The players lined for the anthem
Both teams in a row
Then we set the alarm clock
and off the match did go.

We sussed each other out at first
like two tactical masters.
But Alex Stepney in United’s goal
let in two disasters
Man United pulled one back
By whom I’m not so sure
And they equalized soon after
with a lob from Ian Ure.

We swapped ends at the half
and took a little break.
Then started up the game again
which had so much at stake.

The game got quite aggressive
I complained about Ipswich fouling
and I bravely brought on Sadler
for the slow moving Alan Gowling.
It proved a stroke of genius
as he put Man U ahead
and after fifty minutes
it was three-two that they led.

But Ipswich tied it up
right bang on the hour
when Viljoen fired past Stepney
with a ferocious shot of power.
Now Ipswich pressed on forward
They were going for the kill
And they nearly scored another
Stepney saving from Mick Hill.

They camped out in United’s half
as for the winner they did hunt
And in the opposition half
I just had Charlton
alone up front.

Suddenly the bedroom door pushed open
with the score line still three-three
There was my mum with sarnies
and a couple of cups tea.

“Take a quick tea break boys
before you ruin your eyes,
I’ve cups of tea, some sandwiches
and a couple of apple pies.
I’ll leave it on the bed
now stop and have a munch,”
and as she walked across the pitch
We heard a mighty CRUNCH.

If our final had been televised
Ken Wolstenholme would have had to say,
“Would viewers at home of nervous disposition
kindly turn away.”

“You’ve just broke Bbobby Charlton,” I said
before being stunned into total silence
Wondering how my dear old mum
could have committed
that act of violence.

“Not to worry,” said my mum
“I know just what to do.
When I’m at the shop tomorrow
I’ll buy that super glue.
They say it sticks for ever
It never comes unstuck
Now come on you boys, sup your tea
and into your sarnies tuck.”

“But mum, that was Bobby Charlton
He cost me Five and Three.” *
But all that mum was worried about
was us drinking our tea.
“Ooh you’re right,” she said smiling,
“ Look at him, he’s even got a little shiny head.
Isn’t it great what they can do these days.”
as she placed poor Bobby Charlton
down upon the bed.

There was no stretcher for Bobby
Just the inside of mum’s purse
when he was whisked off to the glue shop
without even a nurse.

When the game did resume
My friend’s laughter turned to howling
But sportingly he agreed to let me
bring back Alan Gowling.
But the spirit had gone from the United team
Their hearts weren’t in the game
Without their leader Bobby
they would never be the same.
My mate scored three unanswered goals
to put United six- three down
And that years Subbuteo final
was won by Ipswich Town.

My mum she did get Charlton fixed
but the adverts were untrue
and four minutes into his first game back, he parted from his glue.

I put him in the bin that night
and I felt a little numb
But it was really back late September
That he was murdered by my Mum.