Winter turns to Spring
It’s been a good start to the New Year so far, what with the Observer’s sports magazine giving us further media recognition and then there’s Dave’s planning and Crispin’s ideas for 2002 too. Very exciting – but discretion prevents my revealing these – but we think you’ll like them. More revelations as the winter turns to snowdrops and as the snowdrops give over to the crocus. In addition, we have more and more schools pursuing us for workshops – the problem is fitting these into an already busy schedule, as the nearly Americans say. Talking of which, I am off to Vancouver in February to look at Canadian social inclusion policies; we will be taking 2 framed poems from the site as gifts – The Human Race and “Come on England”. These appeared for Refugee Week last June/July – so look for them there if you are interested or on my page. Finally, good luck everyone and thanks again for making this site the unique phenomenon that it is.
Yours in a rushed and busy Friday night housework sort of start to the week-end, Stuart x.
New Year View, 2002.
The view from the pub window was interesting –
A traditional Mrs. Miniver Cotswold village film set,
Upstaged by a technicolour turncoat house at the end of the lane,
All four walls completely covered with new money Christmas lights,
Like some festive 2 fingers to the rest of the sequestered vale.
With a scene like that, what could you do, but give in?
So I went modern mall shopping the next Sunday,
But got fed up after 5 minutes, and started reading the football scores,
While leaning against the doorway of an M and S Outlet Store,
“I hate shopping, don’t you?” said the man opposite,
On the other side of the doorway, also reading the football scores,
And I smiled my agreement, but I didn’t know what was coming,
For with the wife playing extra time, and visiting as many away grounds as possible,
I clocked up 3 hours in the mall, until I could carry not a parcel more,
And scraped out underneath the sign “Open on Boxing Day!”
I stared in disbelief and disgust, and took out my copy of “ A Christmas Carol”,
Even Bob Cratchett had Boxing Day off – has progress come to this?
Tiny Tim would be well up the creek today,
No presents, dad at work on holidays, on the lump, NHS queues for an op.,
Oh brave new world that has such billboards in it!
(But even that doleful sign was better than the mall’s opening first,
Which celebrated the closure of the Railway Works with the legend
“To the Golden Age of Shopping from the Golden Age of Steam”).
We drove home past a house whose yuletide burnished windows
Were covered with transfer pictures of Santa and “Merry Christmas” greetings,
While by the doorway was the picture of a slavering dog, labelled “I live here”;
Back in Stroud, snow was falling as I bought a copy of the Morning Star,
Before buying my wife a surprise present, a Victorian fire guard,
And I walked home along the disused railway line,
Reflecting on how Bob Cratchett’s working class hearth
Has become embourgeoisified and commodified
To the tune of £60 out of Tiny Tim’s pocket,
The parallel with football is too obvious to labour.
The Sunday before Christmas saw Basil* delivering Christmas cards,
And we walked through the churchyard, reading the names of lost sons
Killed at Ypres, one of whose dads was a member of the church choir,
Unlike my dad, who would spend Christmas Eve afternoon in the pub,
After knocking off early from his railway shift
Before coming home every year with a chain of sausages around his neck,
Drunk as a lord and loudly declaring that he was the mayor of Swindon –
It’s amazing what beer and a string of sausages can do –
And that’s the wonder of Christmas,
It gives us a glimpse of the power of ordinary women and men,
A glimpse of their power to run their own lives and turn the world upside down,
Like in a manger or with a mayor, or like giant killers in the next round of the cup.
I wish it could be Christmas every day. Don’t you?
* Editors’ note – for newcomers to the site – Basil is the official mascot of this site. The
Westie who swaps shirts with Shakespeare. See his full story and how he almost became England manager in the archive section.
About This Site
Welcome to Football Poets -- a club for all football poets, lovers of football and lovers of (alternative) poetry. Discover poets in every league from respected internationals at the top of their game to young hopefuls in the school playground.
Publish your football poems here and then discuss them with your team mates and fans. We're archived by The British Library, so your masterpieces are in the safe hands of a world-class keeper. What a result!
My Account
Latest Poems
Mike Bartram
8th July 2025
joe morris
6th July 2025
Crispin Thomas
6th July 2025
Mike Bartram
4th July 2025
Denys E. W. Jones
29th June 2025
joe morris
29th June 2025
Crispin Thomas
26th June 2025
joe morris
23rd June 2025
Crispin Thomas
16th June 2025
Gacina Bozidar
15th June 2025
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
7th June 2025 at 5:57 pm
Very well put! My recent favourite came when visiting Chesterfield. They have the ‘LMD Vacuum Excavation Stand’.
May be if you’re in the vacuum excavation business, it’s a beautiful sounding name.
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24th May 2025 at 7:19 am
Hi Steve
I’ve come across you before on the live poetry circuit…something I’ve also been involved in since the late 90s at slams, gigs and festivals. Did you ever get to Glasto?
I was also at Swindon when José subbed and berated Kevin in a League Cup game for Chelsea….
Salah as you point out went the same way…
Be interesting to see Kev’s next move?
Best
Crispin
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24th April 2025 at 1:05 pm
Hey Denys..love this
“You may be a miner working down a pit.
You may be a rock star playing sold out gigs.
You may be a fireman putting out a blaze.
You may be an inmate chalking off the days. ”
Not just Dylan but maybe an unintentional nod to and shades of Ian Dury’s enigmatic ‘What A Waste’ rhythmic scanning..eg:
I could be the driver in an articulated lorry
I could be a poet I wouldn’t need to worry
I could be a teacher in a classroom full of scholars
I could be the sergeant in a squadron full of wallahs
What a waste
What a waste
Was lucky enough to meet and interview him twice.
Best wishes from Forest Green to Genoa C
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8th March 2025 at 2:34 pm
Thanks Crispin
I’ve been to FGR a couple of times in the past – great food! Barnet look like they have the NL sewn up for this season, but I wish you well for promotion next season.
Regards, Beth
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11th January 2025 at 8:13 am
TO ADD THIS TO THIS POEM’S COMMENT:WELCOME BACK DAVID MOYES!!!
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27th November 2024 at 5:55 am
‘You’re Supposed To Be At Home’ is an excellent and moving poem Denys.
You start off thinking it’s just about another oft-sung chant, one we personally heard a lot last season throughout our second relegation in a row here at Forest Green(FGR) ! I always love poems where you think they are saying one thing and then they suddenly pull you deeper to somewhere or something else else.
I’m currently helping in a local school for FGR in a voluntary capacity using football to help young students with reading. At an upcoming session we will tackle racism, just like we did in workshops at football schools and grounds when we first started this site 24 years ago. I’m gonna try and weave your poem into a session.
We’ve added it to the Anti- Racism/Kick It Out section under Crispin’s Corner.
Best C
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26th November 2024 at 1:59 pm
Great poem and great to see you back Wyn.
Don’t leave it so long next time my friend!
More please.
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13th September 2024 at 6:14 pm
Welcome to Football Poets Beth
Great evocative poem Beth….
More please !
Haiku always welcome.
Hope we (FGR) get to play you again soon
Best
Crispin
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26th July 2024 at 6:25 pm
Great poem Mike Bartram. Eddie was a legend, affectionately known in Liverpool as, “the first hooligan.” Even the hoolies were well dressed in those days. The amazing thing was he was only 26 when that picture was taken. He’d played for Everton youth team and was well known to the players. He never got arrested. They threw him out and he climbed back in, just in time for Derek Temples winner.
I used the picture of him being tackled to the ground on the front cover of my book, “Once Upon a rhyme in Football.” It’s worth looking on youtube and finding the re-enactment of the Wembley scene. Frank Skinner and Baddiel went around to Eddies home in the 1990’s and acted it out on the green outside. It’s hilarious, especially all the effort they put in to get Eddie sober enough to shoot the scene.
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