Football Poets

Farewell to the FA Cup- West Ham

In the end we knew
The Hammers couldn’t possibly
Fend for themselves
It all spiralled out of control
At Old Trafford
Always there
At the Theatre of Dreams
Bowing our heads
Before the final curtain
It always seemed to finish
On that discordant note
A dull thud, in the echo
Chamber where we knew it
Would, drifting solemnly
Darkly along the debris
Of the Manchester Ship Canal
Like a solitary barge
Aching, wincing with pain
West Ham knocked out of the Cup
Broken and bereft of hope
Like a shattered plate
At first it looked as though
It just might
Be their night of a
Thousand lifetimes
2002, perhaps revisited
Paolo De Canio reincarnated
Fabien Barthez
The air traffic controller
Indisputably so
Arm in the air
You’re not safe to land
Yet the claret and blue
Gave United and Sir Alex
A bloodied nose
Victory in the past
But not in the present
Football without sentiment
Last night was Manchester United’s
Homecoming after plundering
And looting the Carabao Cup
On Sunday’s devout day
It was their date with destiny
An appointment with glory
Could this be United’s season
Of seasons, the Double of Cups?
At Old Trafford
The visitors briefly suggested,
Threatened and almost achieved
But then discovered where they were
West Ham, in surreal colours of white
And orange shorts.
The traditionalists were weeping
Into their foaming Guinnesses
Wondering where the decades
Had gone when claret and blue
Meant what they said on the tin
But for the best part of 80 minutes
It felt the Hammers had conquered time
United strangely subdued, introverted
There but not there
You had to witness it for yourself
Ball in rotation
But then chasing ever
Increasing circles
Through revolving doors
But going nowhere
For a while at least
West Ham in the mood
For arts and crafts
Mysterious subtleties
But their football ebbing its way
Back into thunderous oceans
Amid the rotting wasted
Carnage of what might have been
Then, suddenly a bolt of lightning,
A clandestine scheme
West Ham
In private conference
Just outside United’s
Penalty area
A quick consultation
Pass there, white shirt
Available
Benrahama gets the final
Word, stealing covertly
Into space.
It was premeditated
Intentional
West Ham take the lead
Said cuts back inside
Defender,
Subterfuge on his mind
Sophistication before bed
An arrowed shot
Flies like a missile
Sweet as the profiterole
That Benrahma ate and relished
Before late evening tea
West Ham ahead, but
You know the rest
All huff and puff,
Neatness and then
A hint of ornateness
But no more as such
Soucek too careful and cautious
Declan ruling his subjects
In a class of his own
Bowen on far too late
Lucas Paqueta
Flashes of instinct
And breathless intuition
But never enough
To satisfy the appetites
Of Bubble blowers
Familiarity at Old Trafford
Man United storm back
Into contention
As they knew they would
It’s only West Ham
They mutter privately
A feather in the wind
Blow them away dismissively
Leave them on the
Motorway service station
Hurt, rejected, beaten again
The equaliser, then rapidly
Two more hammer blows
Game over for the Irons
Now for the return
This weekend
To seaside promenades
At Brighton
Where they must hope
For candy floss visions
Of a win, dare we say it
Sticky toffee apples,
Tinkling amusement arcades
For the claret and blue
Perhaps they will get it right
On the day, some day,
17 points for survival
Revivalist gatherings
In quiet corners of
Brighton’s bountiful
Beaches, gazing
Wistfully from
Nightmare scenario
Of relegation
But claret and blue
Will be engaged
Listening, watching,
Keeping the faith
Devotion ticking away
In their hearts
It’s the business end
Of the season
Time for stout hearts
And East End backbone
The strongest of spines
And spirits undiminished
Two months to repair
The smoking ruins
Of a season to forget
David Moyes,
Spirits undimmed, soul searching
Defiance, stubborn to the last
Gritty stoicism
We shall not be moved
Too good to go down
Now the season’s final chapter
It has to be that moment
To deliver before
Relegation calls
But surely not

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