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Poems tagged ‘Managerial Changes’

Forest not Greener for Rob

John J O’Connor

Wednesday, September 28th, 2022

Graham Taylor rolls in his Vicarage grave
As he hears how Watford sinned.
Elton puts his head in hands
And sings Candle in the Wind.

The International football break
They now call the Watford Gap
The time it takes to fire the coach
And another one to tap.

Rob Edwards he left Forest Green
To Watford he did go
He thought the Forest would be Greener
How little did he know.
Ten games into the season
From the playoffs one point back
The bozo Pozzos did decide
To give poor Rob the sack.

They say in New York City
You’re ten feet from a rat or roach
And in other places in the world
You’re near a former Watford coach

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Time of The Season.

kevin raymond

Thursday, October 10th, 2019

Knives are poised, they often are
Some blame Brexit, VAR
Others deem the chaps as looking tired
Clubs zoom them off to foreign shores
A well-earned bonding jaunt from you and yours
Living in the daily realms of…being fired.

An international break or two
Offers r and r for the chosen few
What never get the call up from their country?
Or, ”I’ve retired from international games
Spend time with the family, learn their names
Maybe earn a nice few extra quid from punditry”.

Gaffers face is looking gaunt
Opposition fans are heard to taunt,
“You’re getting sacked tomorrow morning”,
Home fans stand and shout aloud
In despairing voices tinged with proud
“Maybe so, at least we’re never boring”.

Withered hacks within the press
Proclaim your club is in a right old mess
Nothing can’t be sorted by a nice few bob
Loyal coaches offer their support
For a fellow pro, a thoroughly decent sort
Then call their agents checking out his job.

The touch-line seems a lonely place
When all that’s tried ain’t saving face
and the chaps are having one almighty mare
I’ve seen that awful look of sheer despair
Sat and watched it from a plastic chair
My heart goes out to any poor sod stood there.

Millionaires will still be paid
We’ll be there come Saturday
Despite being the brunt of inoffensive gags
Being tin tacked ain’t no joke
Ask any hard-working class folk
It’s about as funny as The CSA with absent dads.

Peace.

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