Football Poets

Reverie for Tommy Lawrence

can’t say won’t say too hot
and the trees are flashing a silver signal:
i am a red-eyed dove
the breeze a suggestive flailing hiss
my eyes heavy with yawning
where next is there anywhere left
to save
oh forgotten legend
oh gentleman
oh flying pig
and the world doesn’t matter any
more than it always has or hasn’t
while we’re slipping not even reluctantly
into a weight of life which we call death
becoming the compost for more and more
of this scratching that we say is tomorrow
but has always been and will always be
right now

Harry Owen
10 January 2018

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Mr Liverpool – Ronnie Moran (1934-2017)

From the Reds golden age
Came a local lad called Ronnie
Hailed from nearby Crosby
Fondly nicknamed “Bugsy”

As an apprentice electrician
Ronnie signed for Don Welsh in 52
Played in Joe Fagan’s reserves
Liverpool through and through

Became a coach in sixty six
A new chapter with Shankly
Twice in the dugout as manager
Proudly led Liverpool out at Wembley

Forty four cups in the cupboard
There’s so many special dates
A fabled place in the Boot room
And recognition as one of the greats

Mr Liverpool, tea lady or physio
Bugsy served all the roles
Captain, coach, caretaker manager
Over 300 games, 16 goals

Home at Anfield for almost fifty years
Red to the core
He was the ultimate utility man
They’re not made like that anymore

number7
© Emdad Rahman

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Heysel And The Darkest Hour

sometimes sitting there
in our little plastic seats 
in structures of steels and light
you look around today
and it’s easy to forget where we’ve come from
and the dark dark times along the way
 
but I know where I was that night
safe at home un-suspecting excited
and looking forward to a big game on the box
 
back then in the early 80’s
we didn’t get that much live football on terrestrial TV 
the odd England game  the Cup Final   the World Cup
but I remember rushing home to Stroud
from Coventry that evening
in bumper to bumper traffic that balmy late-May night
 
I was not alone in longing for a great European Final
Liverpool and Juventus
two of the best face to face
and sitting down with anticipation inside
I switched on BBC 1 like millions
just as  Wogan finished
 
suddenly  there was Jimmy Hill
ashen faced    apologetic tongue-tied and angry
the pundit panel   stunned and speechless
and Hill suggesting  the return of conscription 
as ugly scenes flared behind them
gruesome compelling    scary and brutal
these were scenes we had not seen before
LIVE on our screens
but we watched it all unfold in our living rooms
 
robbed of our rose-tinted spectacles
and nostalgic cloth-cap views of terracing et al
let’s not forget
that back then in Britain
in life and in football
those were hard and dangerous times
but in reality  week on week   we’d still be  there
herded from stations to grounds like animals
penned into ancient concrete areas like criminals
treated to a man
as working class losers and hooligans one and all

sometimes you even got pee’d on from behind
because once you got a good spot
no way would you wanna lose it
inadequate conditions inadequate toilets  devoid of security 
and pretty much left to our own devices  on the terraces
 
the mood was often violent and unsafe
the atmosphere  hostile and charged
racist chants and a tribal anger
you did your best to ignore 
but for some reason  love of the game or whatever
we coped with it
until that night   when it happened
as bodies piled up and  fans struggled
and both sides fought
before our very eyes
and disgusted and broken
together we searched for answers and solutions
in that darkest hour
 
when that wall collapsed
it signalled the end of 39 Italian lives and up to 600 injured
and all this live on our screens
I’ve never felt so ashamed to just being into football
and such sadness and tears
for the lives of those dead
 
it’s hard to erase such memories and hard to believe
they still played that strange  
and atmosphere-less game that night
pressure or fear of more reprisals no doubt
hard too to believe a crumbling ground  
about to be demolished
could play host to such a match
 
kicked out of the European competition
we now dominate for 5 years
British teams took the brunt
but nothing erases shame

and sometimes sitting in our plush hospitality areas
gazing at 52″ flat-screen plasmas and talking big
it’s easy to forget but wise to remember
where we’ve come from

the dark dark times along the way
and the night the lives of  39 Juventus fans were lost
may those times never return
may their souls forever rest in peace

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