You stand on a plinth outside the ground, With Fulham fans’ adulation crowned. Moulded in metal, twelve feet tall, Hands on hips, and foot on the ball. Impatiently waiting for the whistle to blow, Your brain computing where you want it to go. An enigmatic expression on your face. Not one Brylcreemed hair allowed out […]

It captures him to a T. Look: eyes locked on the ball, His face a mask of grim determination, he’s Opening up like a cheetah chasing a springbok, Showing the defender a clean pair of heels, Who, lunging in, shows a studded sole in return. It will gash his shin and need fourteen stitches. It’s […]