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Listening To The Match

Paul Hayward

Sunday, May 25th, 2008

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 At 3pm on match days (or when Sky TV dictate),
All Baggie fans from everywhere will get into a state,
The ex pats in Australia listening in the night,
The old man in his Wednesbury flat, his face a shade of white,
The trucker on the M6 tuned in to Capital Gold,
The lucky fans attending who watch the game unfold.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The widow watching teletext who whispers the lord’s name,
Each time the page refreshes and the score remains the same,
The bloke in Halesowen who cleans his dirty car,
His radio tells the neighbourhood that Gera’s hit the bar.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The lady in the paper shop cries out at Bomber’s voice,
She’d go and watch the game herself if she only had the choice,
The young lad puts his shoes on to go out for a stroll,
Because he did it last week and Bednar scored a goal.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The husband drives to Merry Hill, he’s got to shop this week,
He’ll shush his wife and shake his head if she even dares to speak,
The Cradley girl who says she cannot listen to the game,
Yet sits there biting all her nails, as last week just the same.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The bloke who smuggles earphones in as the vicar bears his soul,
Then jumps up shouting “Yes get in!” as Phillips scores a goal,
The young lad with his girlfriend smiles and nods, but he is faking,
He’s hearing Tom and Bomber, not the promise he is making.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 “Two minutes extra time Tom” says Tony Bomber Brown,
The old man in his Wednesbury flat counts every second down,
The odd goal, will it be enough as the opposition press,
Why not switch the radio off to avoid all this distress?

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 The tension is unbearable for Baggies far and near,
The Cradley girl’s anxiety has now become real fear,
The Smethwick bloke has trouble just keeping his tea down,
He’s glad at least his trousers are the darkest shade of brown.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 At last the end is coming, 3 points are now in sight,
The final whistle goes, we punch the air in such delight,
Deep breaths and lower heart rates, no butterflies in the belly,
Just one thing now to think about “will the goal be on the telly?”

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 So next time when the Albion play and you can’t get to the game,
Remember all the Baggie fans who are doing just the same,
Tracking what the score is, praying for success.
Hating every moment, but listening nonetheless.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/listening-to-the-match/