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Poems tagged ‘Pelé’

My Life As A Football Fan

Steven Taylor

Saturday, June 22nd, 2024

We used to sing that Charlton (Bobby) was better than Pele.

We knew he wasn’t, objectively, but we hoped the song
Would inspire him to play better. Also, it was a measure
Of our faith. In the team, in our players. The Red Devils. Their

Collective and individual qualities. An expression of solidarity
Our willingness to stand beside them, even as the firing squad

In Goya’s great painting, ‘Third of May 1808’
Took aim and waited the command to fire. Fearless.

We were inspired and defiant. Bobby was the man
In the white shirt with his arms spread. Christ-like.
Front and centre. More than eight feet by eleven feet.
Colossal. Taller than a goal post if not (quite) as wide.

When Goya began his masterpiece he was already
In poor health and profoundly deaf. Aged 68. Me.

He wouldn’t have heard our song even if he had been stood
With us in the middle of the Stretford End. It describes Pele,
A Brazilian (and Eusebio, who played for Benfica, Portugal)

As ‘no good bums’, which somewhat diminishes Charlton’s
Status. If they were so rubbish, what kind of achievement
Was it to be better? Surely it would have made more sense
For the song to have elevated them? His contemporaries.

Football fans are an irrational bunch.

Goya’s painting transformed war art, breaking with
The European tradition of depicting kings and generals
And showing us the greater (almost divine) heroism
Of the common man. As luck would have it, United

Had become the first English football team to win
The European Cup in May 1968, defeating Eusebio
And Benfica at Wembley by four goals to one. Bobby
Charlton scored twice. A glancing header followed
By a beautiful flick with his right foot. I can’t remember

If the song came before or after.

 

Bobby was diagnosed with Dementia and died  aged 86 after an accidental fall in Macclesfield General Hospital on 21 October 2023.

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The Man Who Designed The Beautiful Game (Pelé )

Crispin Thomas

Friday, December 30th, 2022

I was 10 years old when I first saw you
that steamy Summer of ’58 the World Cup …Sweden
when before you – for me
there had only been one hero…Jimmy Greaves.

we’d only had our tele a year
but there you were on that June night in black and white
making your debut at seventeen in one of the few random games shown*

but it was in that Semi Final v France
with a nonchalant and graceful hat-trick
that we first sat up and took notice
and in those moments you changed my world
and also – unknowingly
lay down a marker and bench mark
for the likes of Best and Messi
Ronaldo, Mbappe and Neymar
and so many more to follow

I remember being infused with the spirit Brazil played
and you just seven years older than me…
Oh how I wanted to be you… play like you ..glide like you

and on that summer night
in between and after that match
and then again in that stunning final against the hosts
when you bagged another two
we’d run to the street with tennis ball in hand
before chalked posts on old red brick walls
to dream and feel and move
as though we were Brazilian

and so began a life-long love affair
with the beauty of the game
that you instilled so effortlessly …

Shine on
and thank you Pelé.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/pele-2/