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Wembley, May 1965

Christopher T. George

Monday, January 3rd, 2005

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I. The Saint

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The Saint headed it in, and I don’t know how he did,
the photos showed him horizontal, flying in midair
in the Leeds area, his characteristic cropped head,
in extra time to win us that first FA Cup, in ’65
the first and only time I went to Wembley, the gear!,
the game dribbling to a boring stalemate, until
Gerry Byrne, a giant with broken collarbone,
centered for St. John to head into the net,
— and the Saints came marching in.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 II. The First Team

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 was on hand to present us the Cup, Queen Liz herself.
We didn’t know “Abide with Me” in the pre-match
sing-along, but we sang out loud “God Save Our Team”
to the tune of the national anthem, England warming
to how patriotic we Scousers were. Then post-match,
big Ron Yeats, man mountain, climbed the glorious
steps to accept the gleaming Cup from Lilbet. . .
she was accustomed to Ascot and Badminton not here,
we probably bored poor H.M. to tears, a drab match,
but we didn’t care. Ron raised the Cup, we cheered.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Christopher T. George

© Christopher T. George 2005

Notes

An occasion never to be forgotten. I was age 17 at the time.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/wembley-may-1965/