History and Football Pieces
HISTORY
History can sometimes feel like a dead weight,
A yoke of worm-eaten dry as dust irrelevance,
That somehow keeps its shape, meaning and pressure:
All that love of stately home heritage,
All that fetishisation of tradition and deference,
All that limitation on freedom of thought,
And all those manacles on the imagination.
But sometimes it’s a liberating cross to bear,
Opening a parallel universe of scintillating genius,
Leading to a series of tantalising remembrances,
That sort of peep beyond the curtain and a veil
That almost yields to touch and seems almost visible,
But yet remains elusive and yet simultaneously beckoning,
Gently waving in a gentle wind.
So it was this peaceful Sunday evening,
Front room window skyscapes commissioned by Canaletto,
Vertical cumulus cloudscapes all pink and gold and blue –
(Until the next week brought snow scenes straight from Breughel),
And Donald Rogers back at Wembley again in 1969,
Radio 5 broadcasting a grainy old moment
From the days of hospital wireless football commentaries;
Then Terry Wogan and Gabie Roslin,
Whimsically shouting “Never Again”,
On the Eurovision null points rerun,
Something of an unfortunate dumbing down,
For an anti-fascist Holocaust slogan,
That should be unsullied by postmodernist ironies.
And the next week brought more historical invocations,
When Al Quaeda claimed responsibility for Madrid’s carnage,
Citing Spanish involvement in the Crusades as justification,
And when aboriginal and native peoples took governments to court,
Trying to secure compensation for land loss,
And when African states claimed recompense through the UN
For the depredations of slavery,
And when cricket brought enthusiastic partial reconciliation
To the Asian sub-continent of India and Pakistan.
And there’s me thinking about all this history and mass soc,
Walking past the windswept rain-swept Sunday League soccer match,
Watching my ghost out there on the right wing,
Scurrying home for the minute’s silence on the radio:
Wolverhampton Wanderers versus Aston Villa,
Two names redolent of the Industrial Revolution
When Brummagem goods were bartered for Africa’s slaves:
Manacles and leg irons and iron masks,
The dead weight of History.
The Pits
It wasn’t quite 20 years ago today
That the coal strike started up,
“Coal not Dole”, the watchwords,
“The Flying Pickets” on Top of the Pops,
Miners in our homes,
Fighting on the telly,
The police on overtime:
The climactic conflict of our times,
When Collectivism succumbed
To the force of self-validating Modernity,
A flameless beacon for Blair
And a New Millennium momentum
Of relentless Americanisation.
No more would colliery winding gear
Bring forth an endless stream of footballers
From the historic coal-fields
Of England, Wales and Scotland;
The legacy of Busby, Shankly and Stein,
Of Co. Ashington, Dudley, Merthyr, et al,
Would be replaced by heritage museums
And mis en scene simulacra,
And by a premier league self-aggrandisement
Based upon a fan base, rather than supporters,
And based upon the canting hypocrisy of management-speak,
That just occasionally reveals its essential inhumanity,
When unironically using phrases like “human resources”.
We’re the only ones who dig deep now,
Just isolated pockets of conflict and conscience.
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!
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Latest Poems
joe morris
4th December 2023
John Gilbert Ellis
3rd December 2023
Rowan Waller
2nd December 2023
Clik The Mouse
1st December 2023
joe morris
1st December 2023
joe morris
30th November 2023
joe morris
26th November 2023
Crispin Thomas
26th November 2023
Richard Williams
26th November 2023
kevin raymond
24th November 2023
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
19th November 2023 at 1:45 pm
Thanks Gacina, glad you liked it, and I have just posted a new one about our points deduction…
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7th November 2023 at 6:34 pm
Today B.B.C post on F.B was titled:Premier League reduced to 18 clubs? I really think it may be interesting to see if this would be Everton’s nightmare and this poem is well suited for this concern.If there would be more difficult battle to stay if there were 18 teams.Great poem and somehow true.
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6th November 2023 at 4:43 pm
Ashington FC have launched a £50,000 Crowdfunder appeal to meet the increased costs of winning promotion last season, to pay for urgent stadium improvements, travel costs and equipment
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31st October 2023 at 4:26 pm
‘Three Teams Worse Than Us’ from our Toffee friend Denys in Italy, also sums up how FGR fans currently feel. Yes, in our case, with two going down to the Conference, it could be entitled ‘Two Teams Worse Than Us’, but three would make us feel even safer.
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6th October 2023 at 11:49 pm
Enjoy it while you can, although I’m sure Mbappe could well be bound for St James
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2nd October 2023 at 1:52 pm
There still remains a magic about the early rounds of the FA Cup that the premier league / internationals can never match.
Coventry Sphinx v Leicester Nirvana sounds so much more than a tale of two cities etc. etc.
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24th September 2023 at 5:14 pm
Very accurate indeed!
Palace home for me is always a tough journey as well. From the wilds of west London to Selhurst is a random journey into the unknown.
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20th September 2023 at 1:37 pm
Lovely stuff for one of the best.
We love him to death down at the Palace.
I’ll post my Roy poem a bit later. You’ve inspired me to finish it.
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19th September 2023 at 5:06 pm
I’d like to think some of my scarves might get passed down the generations, but can’t see some of the “quality merchandise” I have making much past my son’s generation. They’ll fall apart before he even has kids, I reckon!
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7th September 2023 at 2:43 pm
Very true Crispin. Thanks!
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