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Poems tagged ‘Manchester United’

United at the Cottage

Niall Machin

Tuesday, January 23rd, 2024

By some Herculean twist of extended family fate
I get to see United play their southern heirs
Fulham at the Cottage
At the turn of the Millenium and in the wake of
Those late great touches from Sheringham! And Solskjaer!!

At the Riverside Stand queue there’s noticeably less testosterone in the air
Replaced by Envy, Chanel N.5 and Givenchy
Fewer expletives as little Miles and Theo stare blankly at their tickets
Mother returns to the safety of the people carrier
‘See you guys later’

The game begins and Fulham hit the bar
Then force the clown Barthez into a finger-tip save before United run up the other end
And Giggs sticks it in
Disgruntled home fans settle themselves into some mediocre north-south abuse
Disappointing given they’re mostly script writers from up White City way

Several men speculate loudly about Giggs’ sexuality
Which seems rich coming from those who spend alternate Saturdays
In the company of fellow Cottagers
Before a flowing move involving only two reds doubles the lead
The home side hit back immediately and trail by one at the break

The half time entertainment is priceless with compere ‘Diddy’ David Hamilton
Overseeing a penalty shoot out competition wherein
Stuart from Manchester ends up sharing a year’s worth of free pizza
With local lad David
Whose curious hands in pockets approach pays dividends

The second half brings one more goal apiece
And honours appear even
The home side losing little in defeat
And as I watch Becks and Co troop off
I calculate how much they have earned for that ninety minutes of toil

We head home through the well-healed Victorian terraces
That blockade the old ground against the river
Past shiny BMWs and reflections of fathers sat at parlour desks
A lone fan shouts ‘There’s only one team in Fulham’
He’s right.

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Brave Bobby Charlton ~ RIP

Crispin Thomas

Saturday, October 21st, 2023

the strength and power in his boot
from near or far when he would shoot
the many times I saw him play
at countless games back in the day
the archetypal number nine
who stays a legend for all time

the crowds that flocked to pack each ground
when Man United were in town
the buzz when he was on the ball
the one-club man who gaves his all
in ev’ry game on ev’ry park
brave Bobby Charlton left his mark

the strength and power in his boot
from near or far when he would shoot
the many times I saw him play
at countless games back in the day
for club and country may he be
remembered for eternity

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Woe United

joe morris

Sunday, September 17th, 2023

Oh it used to be the Theatre of Dreams
And yet now spirits are restless
In the wings
Where Coppell and Hill lived
And thrived
But now
Off stage and in the dressing room
Haunted and thwarted
Never flaunting in the
Way Sir Matt would have demanded
Angst, anguish and altercation
At Manchester United
In fact twisted turmoil
Rather than blood
That somebody in football
Was once heard to utter
United crippled with divisions
Dire warnings
Behind the scenes fury
A hint of both accident
And emergency
Almost a medical apocalypse
What on earth would pass
The lips of Fergie
Yesterday the Seagulls
Of Brighton came to Old Trafford
Treading those boards
Magnificently
While the lead protagonists
Almost froze on stage
Several pennies for thoughts
Sir Bobby Charlton and Denis Law
The knights of distinction
Where once Viollet, Bent, the
Beautifully blessed Duncan Edwards
Lives snuffed out tragically
By Munich airport runway
Also claimed Tommy Taylor
Roger Byrne
Yes the Busby Babes
What would they have made of
This modern day Greek tragedy?
United racked and rocked
By the Glazer family
Old Trafford girders and
Cantilevers,
Tottering and teetering
In early autumnal gusts
Of wind and rain
The Stretford End
Now threatening riots
On the streets of Salford
The empires built by Sir Matt
and Frank o’Farell
Smashed to smithereens
Then the philosophical Dave Sexton
Too nice for football management
Before Ron Atkinson discovered
Flamboyance in United’s back catalogue
Whiteside, Hughes, Robson, Strachan
It could have been so much more
But now United in the land of
Agonised struggling, striving
And scrimping
McTominay still fresh and possibly
Poised for greater things
But not a Beckham, Giggs or
Butt, most certainly not
Football genuinely grieves
For the pitiful plight
That now faces Manchester United
Whose landscape once boasted
European Champions nights
Of bold but now cold
United were always our
Second favourite team
Since their football
Pushed back all frontiers
And broke record breaking boundaries
Sir Matt the pioneer,
Of the Red Devils resurrection
Now though Erik Ten Hag
Drowning in sorrows
Clinging desperately onto
Life rafts not at the ready
Yet at their disposal
If needed but not yet
But sinking in the quicksand
If they’re not careful
Five games now into the birth
Of another Premier League
Season of see saws
Manchester United woe for
A while at least
The neutrals wish the very best
For you and yours
Since United were the best
Of the rest
When Bestie’s snake hips
Shuffled, darted, dummied
Humiliated and then hurt
Nutmegged with carefree glee
The opposition at any
Given moment
What a tease were those
Twinkling Irish feet
And yet in the class of 2023
United are languishing
The laughing stock of
Football’s comedy club
But not here
United reaching out for
Something to hold onto
Of course the legends
In everybody’s estimation
And respect rubber stamped
In our affections
Manchester United
A force for good
And everything that
Football finds favourable
And beneficial to the soul
Hopefully a temporary blip
Here and now
But football needs
A Manchester United
In command of their gifts
And arts
Where the sciences of
The game will always reside
Shaped and refined
Manchester United
To a samba beat

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It’s finished at Sunderland

steve mingle

Thursday, May 13th, 2021

It’s finished at Sunderland
Manchester United have done all they can
But is it enough?
The players look to Ferguson, even he doesn’t know
Cos at City, there’s still two minutes to go
For all the triumphs he can recall
Today would be the sweetest of all
Not just to reward a season’s labours
But also to silence the noisy neighbours

It’s finished at Sunderland
United fans at the Stadium Of Light
Cavort in disbelief and delight
City must win to take their crown
But a minute ago they were 2-1 down
It’s another sky-blue pantomime
Two goals needed in added time
Reds laugh and sing and joke and dance
As those pathetic chokers blow their chance

It’s finished at Sunderland
In Manchester it’s doom and gloom
As City fans’ worst nightmare looms
Some broken souls already leaving
Planned celebrations replaced by grieving
How they’ll scoff and sneer and gloat and mock
At English football’s laughing stock
Our chance to end 44 years of hurt
Will end with faces in the dirt
Friends will console us, eyes full of pity
As we suck up another dose of Typical City
Billions invested by Arab States
Yet our role as losers perpetuates
A summer of hibernation awaits

It’s finished at Sunderland
We’ve got one of the two we need
But the seconds are running down at speed
Fans with ashen faces look forlorn
Dreams of glory almost gone
But the darkest hour is just before dawn…

Mario prods the ball into space
Sergio takes it on at pace
Rides a desperate tackle from Taiwo
And the noise rises to a crescendo
As with concentration absolute
He pulls his right leg back to shoot
And time…
Stands…
Still…

Everybody knows the rest
This day will always be the best
The desolation of bitter failure beckoned
But morphed into bliss in just one second
Whatever glories the future may bring
Whichever heroes’ names we sing
For everybody who was there
Nothing else will ever compare

It’s finished at Sunderland
Where to sickened reds news filters through
That Manchester, once again, is blue

Suppose they’re getting used to it by now…

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Undaunting Support.

kevin raymond

Monday, February 8th, 2021

“Go on, get stuck in,
Don’t be scared, a the likes of him?
Yer twice the bleating size, a that nippy little runt?
Try n pass the bleating thing
Not backwards, over here on the wing
Strewth! Watching this, is proper giving me the hump?”.

“Wisha, ain’t that widder woman, got some mouth?”,
Deccy whispered tentatively, he daren’t shout,
Fearful of a vitriolic volley being aimed at him,
“Stopper, centre-half? Couldn’t stop a draught
Oi Youse! Don’t let the little runt wriggle past,
Wassamatter wiv ya, lost yer bottle? Get stuck in”.

“Oi lady, lady, give that north and south a rest
Young fella’s, out there, are giving of their best”,
“Oh, and who the fluff might you be?”, Deccy heard her scoff
“Fella trains that team to enjoy having a kick about
Maybe try n cheer them on, if you’ve got to shout?”,
Deccy, didn’t catch her reply, though the sentence ended…off?

Fast forward…Craven Cottage, by The Thames,
This widder woman, yes that’s right, her again
Screaming like a banshee at her team to, “Get stuck in”,
Few other choice words reverberating ageing stands
Ensued a crowd of heard it all before old hands,
Perched in The Cottage, acquired a mischievous grin.

Fulham F.C, at the time, short of an old pound note
Finding their club, a proper struggle to keep afloat
Due to a shortage of cash, decide to blood a fledgling pro
Well, the dogs abuse from the start of play
Dished out on what should have been a proper blinding day?
Caused a seasoned ex-pro, in the dug-out, serious woe.

“Ask our kit-man to nip over and have a word
With that tongue a blazing mean looking bird”,
Tell her to zip it shut, or I’ll call a match-day cop?”,
The kit-man nervously saunters back
Ears ringing post a quite profound verbal attack,
“Sorry gaffer, only caught every other sentence, ending…off”.

Moving on…we’re at our usual rendezvous
Waiting on a mini-bus, for a soiree to Man Yoo
A joke, a smoke, a tepid tea, perched on a wall,
“Oi Declan, where are you lot, off to then?
Bit early ain’t it, for you, twenty-five to ten?
Geezer spends his day in bed, doing sweet fluff all?

“Hello missus, I resemble that last remark
Off to Old Trafford, on a jolly, maybe have a laugh?
There’s a spare seat, fancy a day with us on a mini bus?”,
“What? Go and watch Chelsea, are you sure?
Bleating pile of (put politely) old horse manure?
Rather be over at The Cottage, though times is tough”.

“Can’t tempt you to come savour real class?
On a pukka pitch, sporting lush green grass?
Instead of a field of mud, scarcely a sod atop?”,
Just then our mini-bus arrived…bang on time
On waving goodbye, I saw her discreetly mime,
Two fingers in the air, sentences ending…off.

Time rolled on as time tends to do
Though Deccy n me, didn’t sit in the same pew
Every so often after, the game, we’d arrange a meet
I’m listening to the scores one day indoors
The phone rings, an excited Deccy roar’s,
“Switch on the telly, quick, see them just won the league?”

There in the middle of a wildly exuberant shot
Dear reader I kid you not?
Stood a face I knew, but whose whereabouts I didn’t know?
The slated centre half, beside the widder woman, (his mum!)
Couldn’t control her rabid expletive ridden tongue?
On a council playing field, or Craven Cottage, years ago.

Those who crack on regardless, and succeed
To reap rewards, are deemed fortunate indeed
More so from a dodgy start, than a bestowed toff?
After all, isn’t there something admirable to savour?
About a fella being driven, albeit by a gobby mater?
Ain’t afraid of abruptly ending her sentences…off?

Peace.

Stay safe, come what may, and have a good day.

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League leaders held at Anfield

Emdad Rahman

Sunday, January 17th, 2021

Liverpool 0-0 Man Utd

It’s just like the old days
When United led from the top
Cautious on the offensive
They played intending to stop

Liverpool on the other hand
Struggled with fluency
Looking just a little jaded
Are that killer front three

No goals for three games
Yet Alisson was the catch
Foiling United a few times
He’s my man of the match

17 01 21

number7
© emdad rahman

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Nobby Stiles 1942-2020

Emdad Rahman

Sunday, November 1st, 2020

Nobby Stiles, he with the dance
Effortless, without a hitch
England, World Champions
He jjgged round the Wembley pitch

Combative and unassuming
Next to the great George Best
Was a wall too for Bobby
Denis Law and the rest

Switched to midfield by Busby
Noted by Sir Alf Ramsey
European cup winner bids goodbye
We bid farewell to Nobby

31 10 20

number7
© emdad rahman

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Harry Gregg ~ The Man Who Didn’t Just Save Goals

Crispin Thomas

Monday, February 17th, 2020

sometimes we judge our players
by the way that they behave
a striker for his scoring
and a keeper for his saves
we even tag some heroes
and one deserves that claim
a man who didn’t just save goals
Harry Gregg his name

the day is still etched in my mind
and I remember then
I cried aloud next morning
when I was only ten
and on that day we lost perhaps
the greatest football side
but Harry rescued those he could
we speak his name with pride

and just thirteen days later
so many team mates gone
he took the field again once more
determined to go on
and later in the Final
the first one that I saw
they bundled him into the net
as Bolton’s Lofthouse scored

sometimes we judge our players
by the way that they behave
a striker for his scoring
and a keeper for his saves
we often tag them heroes
and one deserve that claim
a man who didn’t just save goals
Harry Gregg his name

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The Day We Lost A Football Team ~ Remembered

Crispin Thomas

Wednesday, February 5th, 2020

if you were alive
child woman or man
you remember the day still
like yesterday
like Lennon like Kennedy
or the day we landed on the moon
the day we woke to realise
we’d lost a football team

that moment when everything
slowed to a moan
like singles when the power would go
or 78s on out of turn gramophones
the day we woke to realise
we’d lost a football team

so young then all life before me
and so in awe of maybe just maybe
the greatest team we ‘d ever spawned
and for so many of those we lost
their lives too so clearly just begun
but all that changed
all gone upon a runway to nowhere
the day we woke to realise
we’d lost a football team

the morning dawned
to find you
staring into your tea
not speaking at breakfast
gazing in disbelief
at grainy snowy shots
in muddled black and white
there upon the table
the day we woke to realise
we’d lost a football team

what point school today?
must I go mum?
we didn’t even support United
but united we all were then
when fate cast that shadow
one cold Munich afternoon
upon our game upon our world
I just remember how sick I felt inside
so sad so sad
the day we woke to realise
we’d lost a football team

watching the heartbreaks
on our new tv
loved ones parents friends
as bedside vigils unfolded before our eyes
Duncan Edwards Frank Swift
Tommy Taylor Roger Byrne 23 in all
the names go on.
where have they gone
where too those fifty years?

and on that day – as this
we think of them
as then as now
the way we felt
the helplessness
the day we woke to realise
we’d lost a football team

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“Of Course She Understands”

kevin raymond

Monday, November 25th, 2019

To say the atmosphere was fraught, watching Man U totally out-fought,
In the betting down Rye Lane yesterday
Would be…putting it politely, as t’was looking highly likely
The Blades would be more than worthy victors…come the close of play?

A group of African boys screamed and bawled, at the plasma on the wall
As Man U easily parted company with the ball
I thought fisticuffs was on the cards, as one or two played the charade,
”They should let me pick the team, I’d drop them all?”.

The braggadocio, finger pointing, and veiled threats got right annoying
As us interested nervous neutrals tried to watch the match
A chilled-out cheeky Jamaican called for calm, with more than a modicum of alarm,
Who seemed to hold a position of respect midst the gobby mass?

Suddenly…a quick one-two, then three, despair morphed in to glee
Studious punters dropped their betting slips aghast
A lauded knight on T.V beamed, as all around me screamed
At a comeback, up there with those of Francis Albert in our past.

Till…the door to victory slammed shut, caused fanatics do their nut,
“It’s going to VAR”, went up a hopeful shout,
“Hand-ball, they’ll disallow it”, “No they won’t, it hit his chest allow it”,
About twenty-five of us vociferously unified in…doubt.

At three all the final whistle blows, the game comes to a close
and just before deflated sombre souls take to the street,
“You boys shouting an a screaming, means my customers are leaving
If it happens again, they’ll be no more football shown next week”.

“But mam please”, pled a leaving man, “You don’t understand?”,
“Don’t be stupid, of course she understands, what planet are you from man?”,
She knows what its all about, she’s a Millwall fan”.

Peace

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/manchester-united/