Poems tagged ‘Forest Green Rovers’

Remembering Bob ~ Bob Hunt /FGR Match Commentator RIP

some still ‘new’ to little Forest Green
might not have known him or the legend he’s been
he often came out with “truthfully” a lot
but Bob Hunt gave it out with all he’d got
sometimes in a match you were never quite sure
what just happened or did we just score ?
in love with the Rovers in love with the game
he often got confused over players names
but win lose or draw he was always there
getting quite excited tearing out his hair

all those away games on the radio
Bob and Billy* rambling and putting on a show
Wembley and promotion he was there on the mike
screaming out “Doidgee!”** as loud as you like
Bob was the voice of little Forest Green
always the passion and always the dream
he often came out with “truthfully” a lot
but Bob Hunt gave it out with all he’d got ~

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Just To Be A Fan

this path we call a journey
is taken without plans
we turn up in all weathers
with head and heart in hands
we gaze like sheep upon these hills
we rise and fall as one
the seasons that hold promise
are all too swiftly done
belief is often threatened
and though we understand
no-one knows what we go through
just to be a fan

the hope they say that kills you
will keep your dream alive
when you are gliding at the top
or battling to survive
the range of your emotions
can differ by the hour
and though your songs are clearly heard
you do not have the power
to be out there upon the field
to help them win the prize
to influence what’s going on
there before your eyes

you stand or sit in sun and rain
you cannot stay away
and come what may when Monday’s here
you long for Saturday
the threats of relegation
they hang above your head
how different barely years ago
when you were top instead
your rivals laugh and taunt you
and say I told you so
the winless weeks drag on and on
but still you have to go

you turn up on those Groundhog Days
with head and heart in hand
you sing and drum with purpose
as if you have a plan
you never stop believing
you rise and fall as one
you watch the the season glide away
until the games are done
you never can explain it
and no-one understands
the stuff you have to go through
just to be a fan …

but you always still believe…
…well -dont you?

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When You Win at Last

anyone who’s been here
anyone at all
anyone who loves their club
loves them rise or fall
if you’re superstitious
if you have a dream
you endure the ups and downs
following your team
when you’re on a losing streak
games can turn to farce
Groundhog Day and Groundhog Night
til you win at last

ev’ryone goes through it
ev’ryone’s the same
ev’ryone gets down so low
ev’ry single game
pressure’s always present
pressure ev’rywhere
even if the manager
swears it isn’t there
pressure on the terraces
pressure on the pitch
pressure if your club is poor
pressure if you’re rich
no one can describe it
no one can explain
no one hides their feelings
when you win again

all the suff’ring falls away
songs ring out from fans
smiles return to faces
in a sea of hands
like a curse that lifted
from some nightmare past
no more endless hoodoo
when you win at last…

….at home!

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I Was There : FGR 1-0 Sheffield Wednesday

once in a blue moon

comes a day when you can say

oh yes I was there

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When It’s Time To Go

If you’ve ever been there
If you’ve had the call
If you’ve had that feeling
Writing’s on the wall
Like some guilty party
In your heart you know
There is no alternative
When it’s time to go

When you see it coming
When you feel it’s near
Something tells you carry on
Overcome the fear
Ev’ry club goes through it
Ev’ry fan I know
In the end the coach must pay
When it’s time to go

Seeming backings from above
Only bring delay
Rumours blowing in the wind
Closer draws the day
Toxic chants that manifest
From the stand in song
Leave us all in little doubt
It won’t be too long
Did you feel it coming?
We will never know
In the end it’s best for all
When it’s time to go

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Stopping By The Ground On A Snowy Morning

whose ground this is I surely know
unrecognizable in snow
and I my glee can barely hide
to find these gates all open wide
my little dog must think it strange
to stop with neither fan nor game
he gives his furry head a shake
as if to say ..”give me a break”
as icicles upon the stand
hang pointing like some outstretched hand
more purer than the blankest page
this dazzling winter football stage
more magic now than old cup ties
when we the giants would surprise
or days when sun beats down on grass
as golden as some stunning pass
but where so many stand and yell
there’s only me to feel and tell
save for a flag with pigeons on
who with a flurried flake are gone
no markings here to see at all
no ground-staff player coach or ball
but I’m enraptured by the sight
of snow-bound terraces of white
I think on all who ever stood
or sat through seasons bad and good
a hundred years upon this hill
the driving winds the biting chill
from Bovril to our own Q-Pie
the fans who came in suit and tie
from bobble hats to hoods of black
who wish the olden days were back
the players we have loved and seen
from black and white to dayglo green
The South Stand up to VIP
for vegan fare in luxury

I ponder on it on my own
while standing silent and alone
as all around in empty streets
brave motorists will make retreats
and slide through Nailsworth’s transformed land
like skaters in some wonderland
upon this hill which winds us home
I think of who’s up next at home
and hope this snow will all be gone
and that our game will still be on
but I have roads to face as well
with words to write and rhyme and tell
and soon so soon I must return
to where my cottage fire will burn
but still I stand like referees
upon awarding penalties
to share in wonder as I go
the beauty of a ground in snow

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No-one Loves It When You’re In The Danger Zone.

Even if your owner’s an eco millionaire
When the bubble bursts a bit you learn to fight despair
Remembering that months ago we had ourselves a time
Cheering dancing in the stands the champagne flowed like wine
We moved up another peg and fell behind so low
Shipping goals for fun it seems like there’s no tomorrow
Lost all our best players and some fans stayed away
We’re fighting hard to stay afloat up on Another Way
Hanging on for dear life until our form comes home
But no-one loves it when you’re down there in the danger zone

Our winning coach forgot to wave as he slipped out the door
The new guy feels the pressure we’ve seen it all before
You cannot let the stress take hold belief can never stop
When you’re up with the big boys who’ve been there at the top
Some say the team ain’t good enough some say that we are lost
Some think we’re on a crisis course and wanna change the boss
Some say it’s lack of fitness or bad luck on the day
Survival is the goal right now re-group and find a way
Feels like we’ve had more injuries than we have ever known
But no-one loves to watch a team down in the danger zone

You keep the faith and passion through ev’ry new defeat
You keep on singing for the team and drumming to that beat
You keep believing we’ll be back to where we wanna be
And when we are the ‘stay-aways’ will roll on up you’ll see
I know that we can do it still of that I have no doubt
You have to stay strong in your heart when you are down and out
To be a fan brings ups and downs it’s something that you learn
And when we find our feet once more the good times will return
Cause everybody loves it when you’re up there at the top
For fans endure a crazy ride the passion never stops
It’s mighty strange this game we love this team we call our own
But no-one ever loves it when you’re in the danger zone

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This Is How It Feels To Win The League

searching for the words that can uncover
all the stuff you go through deep inside
expectation and anticipation
when you climb aboard to share the ride
this is how if feels to be rewarded
when you’ve given ev’rything you can
this is how if feels to be excited
this is how it feels to be a fan

this is why we go through what we go through
even though it often feels insane
even if we sometimes stop to wonder
this is why we do it all again
and this is what it’s like to be devoted
what it means to give your heart and soul
this is what it’s like to climb that mountain
that is what it’s like to reach your goal
let the big boys go on being big boys
let them list their cups and histories
we are what we are and now we’ve done it
this is how it feels to win the league

for a hundred years we lay unnoticed
humble days all spent below the bar
in a place that nobody had heard of
off the track and under their radar
high upon a hill with sheep for neighbours
where the hills and valleys rise and fall
meagre crowds and fighting for survival
now at last it’s time to stand up tall

this is what it means to share that journey
to be part of something so unique
this is how it feels to have a vision
and to see it flower week on week
and we don’t care who has the biggest fan base
we know where we’ve come from in the past
and this is how it feels to lift the trophy
how it feels to win the league at last

challenges ahead we’ll face together
in our little rural hilltop home
laying markers down for all to follow
we’re no longer doing it alone
and they can all us tin pot small time vegans
let them say we have no history
we know what we are and what we’ve been through
and this is how it feels to win the league

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Now ~ Swindon Town v Forest Green Rovers

Now I’m not sure if there’s a debate here
About determinism and free will,
Or whether there’s just some sort of reflection
On 60 years spent going to the match,
That LS Lowry feeling of being lost in a crowd,
That loss of sense of self that meant strangers were friends
And friends were never strangers,
For all was empathy and understanding,
And the boot was never on the other foot.
And you can talk as much Sociology,
Psychology or Philosophy as you like,
But the reason you trudged fortnightly to the game
Was because you enjoyed it and because, really,
How could you do anything else?
Who would do anything else?
You went because you loved the game,
And because you had loyalty to your mates,
And because you had a loyalty to your home town,
And because you had loyalty to your team,
And because the team was your town and your town was your team,
And because you were your town and your town was you,
In a syllogistic spiral that counted
For nothing when you put your scarf on –
For the minute wage differences that existed in a one-industry town,
And the fact that footballers didn’t earn much more than anyone else,
Meant that a happy commonality and solidarity
Suffused the town of Swindon!
And so you never imagined that your
Carefully choreographed movement
To and from the ground through the red-brick
Terrace streets of England
Was like some sort of scene from The Wasteland,
Nor did you see it as some sort of extension
Of typical male industrial working class historic traditions,
So that even when you were wearing the height of mod fashion,
You were in fact an anachronism,
For who would think like that?
Nor did you think, when you carefully read
Your programmes at half time,
Or when you re-read them at home,
Or swopped them, or used them,
So as to build up a store house
Of memory and fact and knowledge
About every facet and aspect of the game of Football
That you were, in fact, following i
In the footsteps of working class autodidacts,
The people who caught a glance at the classics
Within the rhythm of the pistons,
Or studied art or poetry or philosophy
Behind the foreman’s back,
Or beneath the chief clerk’s nose or by the ganger’s shovel,
Or by the candle in the attic;
And now just think, how many brilliant minds there were,
In that faceless crowd of so-called untutored intellect,
Living lives that The News Of The World
Never ever dreamed of,
There, in Swindon,
Richard Jefferies’
‘Chicago of the West.’

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Children At A Game

between the pitch and concourse
the seconds ticking on
her dad was early in in the queue
to beat the half time throng
not one to miss a second
his daughter stood alone
the sound of clanking seats was heard
as she watched on alone

her figure framed and caught in time
a tunnelled silhouette
these are the days of childhood
that she will not forget
I thought about when I was young
before I ever knew
the threats of relegation
or what some fans go through

the rollercoaster journey
when first young fans embark
upon this crazy sea we sail
from playing in the park
to going to your first live match
with friends or mum or dad
excitement and emotions
that all of us have had

the magic spell of moments
the day it all began
the pitch that spread before you
when you became a fan
there’s nothing that can beat it
and nothing quite the same
than being close to players
for children at a game

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/forest-green-rovers/