Football Poets

An April Welcome ……

A warm welcome to all the new poets posting in the month of April.
They are, in chronological order ….

Tony Barrett
Michael Page
Matt Hanson
Wendy Deweltz
Julie E McGuigan
Iain Maloney
Tony Roome
Damien Harvey

A very special ‘humungous’ welcome to Tony Roome, who is an old friend and ex-teammate.

Keep an ear open for Football Poets – Radio 5’s 606 show hope to be talking to Crispin Thomas and Parry Maguire, possibly saturday night, or possibly monday night.

PLEASE – post just one version of your poem. Any errors you spot, e-mail us and we’ll make the changes – there’s no need to post the same poem more than once. And please – do not post comments on the submissions page.

ALSO – to be fair to everyone posting, the Editors have decided that when we have multiple (different) poems posted up, we’ll select only one or two from each poet to show on the first screen. The rest WILL be posted up, perhaps days later. Hope you agree, this is to give everyone a chance to shine. NB The Editors reserve the right to exclude or edit any material posted up to the site.

The following is a selection of poems, one each from our ‘newbies’.
A variety of styles and subjects. Ladies first.

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Stand Tall

You’re now all the man that you’ll ever be,
so stand tall on the Terrace of Dreams.
It’s not a game, not a stance that comes free,
if loving the game is not all that it means.

Battles are not only fought by the outfield ten,
choose well; choose the distance you stay.
Stand your ground on the Terrace of Men,
don’t stand with a comrade in Bigotry.

© Julie E McGuigan 17Apr2005

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Forgotten

You haven’t got a caption
Your name’s not on the list
You’re waiting in the shadows,
Hidden by the mist

You haven’t got a chair
So you’re standing in the rain
Praying for a chance
To be involved again

You’re striding down the touchline
When managers go astray
Breaking up a fight
If one should come your way

You get to hold the board up
For subs and stoppage time
And if the ref gets injured
You’ll get your chance to shine!

They may be in the background
With no identity
But being a fourth official
Rather appeals to me

© Wendy Deweltz

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The More Things Change……

So I read through the teamsheet at twenty to three
It’s still Carsy, Big Pat, Cathal, Coco and me,
Redfern’s in the states but he’s coming back soon
He’ll slot back in at right back, run about like a loon
Dunks in the ones still holding the fort
Ellers is manager, but getting quite fraught

So we’re all still here Si, never down in the dumps
Though the vallys bag’s choca with ventolin pumps
It’s like God’s waiting room, what a senile collection
The 3’s have a seance instead of selection

But we’re still hanging on, under chairman Don Maughan
The young uns today, just don’t know that they’re born
I remember the nights playing spoof in the bar
With Coombsy in charge, though we’d never get far

So here’s to old lats, and we’ll keep taking bets
That us old ‘uns’ll keep smiling……..and avoiding the vets!

© Tony Roome 21/4/05
In response to the Old Lats Poem by ‘Clik the mouse’!

Editor’s note :
although it’s about a small club and characters known only to ourselves,
it captures the spirit of small clubs everywhere.
Dedicated to everyone associated with the Southern Amateur League.
Vallys bag = valuables bag, had to think hard to remember that one, myself!
Brilliant stanza.

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Matthias Sindelar

I made football warlike,
Taking a stand in our final game.
Two teams become one: anchluss.

I am not a border to be rolled over:
No salute like the Munich appeasers.
Play to the whistle, lads.

A goal. A bloody nose.
Swastika arms flap at the leather globe,
It slips from their grasp. We won.

Later, stiff with death,
I became a trophy for my people.
Breathing gas, merely the first.

This is more than life and death:
This is war, my Austria.
Play to the whistle, lads.

© Iain Maloney2005
After conquering Austria, Hitler combined the two nation’s football teams. Austria played one last game, against Germany, before succumbing. They won, Sindelar scoring the winning goal. He became a symbol of Austrian rebellion. Within a year he was found dead.

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A Sonnet for Jock Stein

I met terra firma in sixty five.
She said, a dream builder there is for you
Who will guide daily in your early life
and stay neighbourly ’til truth be inspired

The road is built, you will not deviate,
though thoughts of expiration will attempt
to drive you from the path of the illuminate.
His poor fun, the charlatan has some day.

But the master builder will give you hope
will keep you strong in your lowest nadir.
As I proclaim mysterious glory,
I drink from this cup and remember

The past was the stone that built my dream
Built by a man of the name of Jock Stein

© Tony Barrett, Urban Celt
Simply, in honour of the Big Man

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From Fellows Park to Belle Vue

Fellows Park was ugly
but it was great to stand on
the wobbly terrace with
old rails to hang on
to. Crush prevention
was never mentioned
then. The move to Bescot
caused me stress but
I carried on attending
games of never-ending
visual tedium which
just didn’t feel right.
I began to wonder whether
it was the football or
the stadium I liked. Now, I make
detours to see empty grounds.
I have found the best places
to stand are not stands
because they’re full of seats,
and there’s more atmosphere
at the rear of the terrace overlooking
Belle Vue for a Wakefield-Emley
clash with Frickley than
watching prickly primadonnas
snarl in a bowl.

© Michael Page 2005

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Liverpool Vs Chelsea

So 90 minutes away from heaven
A Champions League final awaits
On Tuesday L4 will be rocking
With the cauldron that Anfield creates

A nil all draw at The Bridge
And Jose comes out with his quips
“99.9% of them think they’re through”
Someone staple his fingers to his lips!

But what you fail to see, Jose
Is an advantage you haven’t witnessed yet
A vacuum is created behind one goal
That sucks the ball into the back of the net!

Now don’t think this works for both teams
As the Kopites scream and shout
As much as we can suck the ball in
We can just as easily blow the ball back out!

You can buy the best players in the world
But you can’t buy a decent crowd
See we are supporters who live for our club
And yes we are very loud!

So bring your team of mercenaries
To Anfield’s hallowed turf
Feel the history of our ground
And hear the greatest fans on earth!

So what excuses will you make
When the 90 minutes are up
Did Rafa speak to the Ref at half time?
Or did you just mess up?

Take a note from Rafa
And be humble in what you say
See bigheads ain’t respected round here
It just ain’t the scousers way!

And before you leave why not take a tour
Our trophy room’s quite full
There’s a space next to 4 European Cups
Which reads “Reserved for Istanbul”

© Damien Harvey
To do with the Champions League Semi Final

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Is this the way to Aston Villa…..

Sola la la la la lano
Sola la la la la lano

When the day is dawning on a Midlands Saturday morning
I cant wait to be there
To see Nobby the fans favourite player
When we beat the City, every fan loves that
It’s in the Holte End, where all his fans are sat

Is this the way to Aston Villa
every game is always a thriller
dreaming dreams of Aston Villa and sweet Nobby who scores for me
Show me the way to Aston Villa
The club with legends like Cowans, Withe & Rimmer
Living life for Aston Villa
and sweet Nobby who scores for me

Sola la la la la lano
Sola la la la la lano
Sola la la la la lano
He’s sweet Nobby who scores for me

As the nerves are jingling
The ground erupts with the Villa fans singing
for the man from Lima, hits another 30 yard screamer
As he goes past half way, he opens up the game
he keeps on going and scores a goal again

Is this the way to Aston Villa
every game is always a thriller
dreaming dreams of Aston Villa and sweet Nobby who scores for me
Show me the way to Aston Villa
The club with legends like Cowans, Withe & Rimmer
Living life for Aston Villa
He’s sweet Nobby who scores for me

Sola la la la la lano
Sola la la la la lano
Sola la la la la lano
He’s sweet Nobby who scores for me.

© Matt Hanson – 6th April 2005

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