In December 2006, we welcomed the following new contributors to this site :
Chad J. Vanderstelt
Dienim (from Indonesia)
L D R
And from Cherry Lane Primary School :
And some of their contributions :
On the straw behind the goal.
I watched the match
when i was a lad lying on straw behind the goal
Envied the people in the stands
But i did not mind the cold.
All those winter Saturday mornings
When North East winds would blow
I would turn up at St James’s Park
And help to shift the snow.
Now i sit high up in the Gallowgate end
A glass roof above my head
In our ultra modern stadium, but I feel it must be said
That i saw, Milburn, Mitchell, Robledo
Names etched upon my soul
Watching the match when I was a lad
Lying on the straw behind the goal.
© John Oliver
This poem takes me back to my happiest days watching Newcastle Utd who i have supported for well over half a century.
A United girl of the Manchester kind
I’m a United girl
Of the Manchester kind
With Solskjaer on my back,
A Red of the purest kind.
They say, “You watch the players
And rarely watch the game.”
I just laugh it off
And infrequently complain.
Though, in all honestly,
It’s very hard to ignore
Cristiano’s thighs in close-up
When he’s cut down to the floor.
Are you telling me
That, if this was a girls game,
You wouldn’t ogle at their legs
All the same?
I know the rules
And I adore the game,
I share the religion
And the passion, all the same.
I’m not actually that fussed,
It’s just a little gripe.
I’ll ogle Ronnie’s thighs
Just to cement the stereotype.
© LDR 23/12/2006
‘Your team shall be my team.’ The Book of Ruth
Said that – or something on those lines at least.
When you met me I was just as uncouth
As the other supporters. A real beast,
Whenever I went to the Baseball Ground:
A third generation Rams supporter.
Then you came along and I was lost and found.
you told me to behave like I oughta.
Docker’s daughter without the accent
That you lost at the Gravesend Grammar School.
That you support my team is heaven-sent.
It makes you my love, my pride, my jewel.
I don’t care you know nothing of the game.
And cannot say a single player’s name.
© Nick Fogg 06
Bolton v Swindon LC Quarter Final 1995
Two down to Swindon Town
With an hour on the clock
The Wembley dream failing fast
As Jan Aga Fjortoft struck,
His whirling celebration flight
A blitzkreig on our hopes.
Failures, near and distant,
Come back to mind, of chances missed,
And nothing now but the long drive home
Through rain, with eyes of mist.
The Europeans rise from their safe quarters
To the battlefield.
Two minutes on, a hold and pass
From the fair Finn,
Saw Thompson’s run, cross shot smack post
And Jason charging in.
Rebound fired home, one more for extra-time.
Then Paataleinen skips floored Sneekers
Two steps left and a thundering shot
To top left corner.
Keeper flailing, striped net straining,
Crowd roaring, leaping. Alive!
Now, white tide crashing to The Lever End.
Tension tight as wired pulled taunt,
Then snapped by Thompson’s shot
Drilled low. A defenders slip, loose ball
And McGinley’s all alone, six yards out,
One touch and smashed to keepers left.
Two minutes now of pounding hearts
And punching fist,
Of screaming voice
And roaring noise,
Until the sweetest sound, the final blow
And cries of “We’ve done it”
© Alan Valentine
My one and only poem written a few hours after the final whistle. The poem was rediscovered whilst cleaning out an old cupboard in the last few weeks.
Football is a sport
it requires a pair of teams
the boys are so caught up with it
even in their dreams
Football needs advertisement
and it should keep you fit
the footballers get paid a lot
with that they buy a new kit
Football needs some players
it also needs some fans
a ball to kick around the pitch
and a bit of green land
© Chelsea from Cherry Lane Primary School
My Game…My Life
Football is not a game;
A way of life it is;
anyone so blessed with skill
will find this life a thrill
I played this game for USA
For Coventry and Chelsea;
Improving every day I did
Coach Bora really helped me;
I’ve lived this life for so long now
I have no idea how
I’d live my life another way
Thank God I’m made to play.
Injury has ended my run
Though too early I had fun;
I’ll coach someday
I can’t stay away
my life has just begun.
© Chad J. Vanderstelt
This poem represents my very promising, yet early ending, soccer career
Bobotoh of PERSIB BANDUNG
I’m just ordinary fans
Who amazed with their action
Adjat Sudradjat was in memory
At the moment when he scored a goal
I’ve a lot of dreams
That can making me as part of them
But i just an ordinary fans
who called as “BOBOTOH”
I’m is bobotoh of Blue Prince
Best of the best
of Indonesian football team
I’m “MAUNG BANDUNG”
I still become bobotoh
Now and forever
Until Zaenal Arief and Barkawi
become goal machine
because PERSIB, our
body and soul
PERSIB BANDUNG is one of best team in Indonesia. Their supporter is recognized with term bobotoh.