THE WALTER TULL MEMORIAL
On the Friday night, I went to a Mods’ reunion,
Where Zoot Money sang “Barefootin”,
The ideal preparation for the next day’s journey
To commemorate the life of a man
Whose childhood would have been similarly unshod.
Part of my railway journey followed the railway lines
He would have taken after taking all that racial abuse,
The abuse he suffered at Ashton Gate before the Great War,
All those long years ago.
The sights you scan from a carriage window are different now of course,
Still some splashes of red brick, but also scrap metal yards
Full of cars, and next, out of town shopping malls,
And out of town sewage farms and water works,
The sorts of sights you expect to see
On a blank grey sky first round of the Cup
Typically November Saturday.
I reached Northampton at midday
And asked the way to the football ground,
“Which one mate? Rugby or football?”
(It’s not a reply I’ve ever heard before, I was shocked)
And “Welcome to the home of the Saints”
Is what the billboard said right outside the station,
In what seemed to be a home and homage to rugby,
But when I got to Sixfields, I knew differently.
Second hand programme sellers stood right outside the ground,
Their trestle tables making a neat rectangle,
While about 50 people gathered nearby,
At the Walter Tull Memorial,
Where the local MP, Chairman of the Board and supporters
Placed wreaths, and where poems were read,
Where a two minute silence was observed
And where “The Last Post” was played.
Just over the way stood oddly topped posts,
Ventilation posts letting fresh clean air circulate,
For the stadium surround has been built on an old rubbish tip,
And the area is full of subterranean gas,
An eerie reminder of the trenches and no mans’ land,
In an area opposite a Great War memorial.
Anyway, after a couple of pints,
We watched the players run out,
And a minute’s silence was observed for faithful Evelyn Smith,
Who tragically died just after the match at the Orient.
The large away contingent from Plymouth behaving impeccably,
And with shouts of “Come on Town”,
And “Argyle, Argyle”,
I sat and watched and saw again just what football means to communities,
(It was my first match for over a year)
I’d forgotten just how much it bonds and binds people together,
And when the game is played in the right spirit,
And each side compliments and complements the other,
Then each set of supporters makes the whole of the experience
Greater than the sum of its parts,
And it’s more than just a football match,
It’s thousands of people empathising one with another.
But you can’t trust the trains these days
And so I had to leave at half-time,
The taxi was late and I shivered in the unaccustomed easterly wind,
“Nothing on Skeggie” said the taxi driver,
“ I were in bloody Skegness last week,
Talk about bloody breezy,
Talk about bloody bracin’.”
That was the last conversation I had for a while,
Despite the delayed journey back,
(“We are sorry to announce that the train to Aberyswyth is cancelled”)
And it wasn’t until I got home that I found out the score,
“A five goal thriller” said my mate, “And you missed it”;
And so I did, but I didn’t miss the next day,
The next day’s Remembrance Day Service on the radio,
And I dutifully remembered my dad
And how he would dutifully and tearfully remember his comrades,
Each Remembrance Day,
And how singularly appropriate that the cup match on the telly
Should feature Accrington Stanley at home to Huddersfield Town,
For is there anywhere more emblematical of the carnage
And patriotism that made the Great War what it was?
Of the 720 volunteers who made up the “Accrington Pals”,
And who were in action on the first day at the Somme,
584 were killed or were wounded or went missing,
Nearly a whole generation of the men of that town
Were wiped out in a matter of minutes;
As Percy Holmes, brother of a “Pal” said,
“I don’t think there was a street in Accrington
And district that didn’t have their blinds drawn
And the bell at Christ Church tolled all day.”
And the bell at Christ Church tolled all day.
I don’t know if this historical coincidence was mentioned on the television. It’s an interesting choice of game – I’d like to think unconscious historical/cultural factors were at work. Coincidence continued after the game when Northampton were first out of the hat for the next round’s draw.
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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!
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Latest Poems
joe morris
25th April 2024
Denys E. W. Jones
25th April 2024
kevin halls
23rd April 2024
Alex Saynor
23rd April 2024
joe morris
23rd April 2024
Crispin Thomas
22nd April 2024
Denys E. W. Jones
21st April 2024
joe morris
20th April 2024
Clik The Mouse
15th April 2024
Mike Bartram
15th April 2024
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
25th April 2024 at 7:33 pm
Hi Denys,
Thanks mate. I’ll do it now.
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25th April 2024 at 1:56 pm
Thanks Joe,
you might like to write a poem yourself on the same subject…
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23rd April 2024 at 4:03 pm
Hi Denys
With you all the way on the abolition of FA Cup replays. What are they doing to the game?
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23rd April 2024 at 3:59 pm
Hi Crispin,
Yes sorry mate. Villa are still in Europe. Mistake rectified.
Cheers
Joe
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20th April 2024 at 12:04 pm
Hi Joe
Shouldn’t your title read your poem Farewell Europe England to everyone exccept Aston Villa ?
I know you mention them in your poem , but I do feel sorry for Villa re the national press .
Largely ignored. the hype was was all about Man City & Arsenal with a bit of a nod to the Hammers..but hardly a mention of Villa..
So well done to them
C
.
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19th March 2024 at 8:00 am
Hi Crispin. Chris Sutton on the radio has gone for a Chelsea v Coventry final. As we know anything can happen in the Cup, and I reckon we can go to the final.
We’re still in with a chance of the play offs too, so lots to go for.
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19th March 2024 at 7:41 am
Hey Kev
Let the masses drool over their odds on City v Unted Final, but who knows how pressure can hit.
Cov and Chels will be rightly labelled as having no chance..but hey …stranger things have happened..
so Chelsea v Coventry…that’s the Final for us!
Best
C
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29th January 2024 at 10:03 pm
Hi Crispin,
How are you doing mate? Yes, you’re probably right but hey football is all about emotion and passion and I just love writing about the game. I try to keep my poetry to a reasonable length but there’s so much to write about the game and its literature just lends itself naturally to poetry. Sometimes I just get completely carried and I do apologise for the length of my poetry but it’s a great thrill to be associated with Football Poets.
Cheers mate
Joe
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10th January 2024 at 7:52 pm
You’re right of course Joe but…..it’s actually more of a big welcome break for everyone who is not into Premier League ..I’m talking fans of EFL National League and below…..
Btw …is this actually your longest poem ever !?
Best
Crispin
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8th January 2024 at 4:45 pm
Thanks!
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