Football Poets

Back of the Net

Arriving at a certain age
I chanced upon a Facebook Page
A football follower’s delight
Outclassing every other site:
No views of Best or Ken Dalgleish
Or Cruyff, for this was far more niche
It specialised in retro sets
Of photographs of football nets
With sturdy bars and sturdy posts
And sturdy stanchions in an arc
The sort you saw at Hampden Park
When Puskas and Gento went on a spree
And Real Madrid won seven-three
Admire both Di Stefano’s grace
And the struts that hold the nets in place.
Though a love of old nets will never be the rage
We anoraks love that Facebook page
And spurning thoughts of golden mansions
We contemplate “Old Nets and Stanchions.”

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The emotions

An autograph from Walter Smith
I had had long time ago emerged

Walter, BIG WALTER,
not Walt Disney,

Now, it is strange fact
Walter Smith’s Everton won at Anfield

That was still the football of 1990’s
Campbel was there
I am looking at the book written by
PEARL BUCK
Do you believe me
she was born in 1892
What this year means for
Everton and Liverpool
And what does it mean for me
to be owner of an autograph
of Walter Smith
But one question,
why ever Howard Kendall went to
Bilbao
Probably because
he understood he was
the continental style manager
But isn’t it extraordinary that
the world changes
If it is possible to compare
I would say
that Everton had its natural man
who went to Europe
Now, someone came from Europe,
the world changes,
Yes,
PEARL BUCK
was born in
1892

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The Other Side

This is the ballad of Derek Acorah,
A footballing lad, and what is more, a
Psychic who detected poltergeists
(Yes, genuine spirits, not scurrying mice)
He used to appear on Living TV
Where his psychic shows brought fame and a fee
On The Antiques Ghost Show he first made his name
And seaside pier shows sealed his fame
He wasn’t trying to deliver a fright
Just “healing and elation… an uplifting night”
In Morecambe, Southport, and throughout the nation
He brought spiritual messages of consolation
So, what’s all this stuff got to do with football?
This.
Derek Acorah grew up in Bootle
He signed for Wrexham at the age of thirteen
Then moved on to Liverpool, where his talent was seen
By the great Bill Shankly; and he plied his trade
Without entirely making the grade
Years later, Bill’s voice from beyond the grave
Told despairing Derek it was time he gave
Expression to his spiritual second sight
And one tormented blustery night
He told Emlyn Hughes “Watch out on the roads;
Though I haven’t a clue what my warning forebodes”
The Scousers heard Derek’s words with derision
But Emlyn was indeed involved in a collision.
Which shows that life isn’t always a party
So don’t underestimate Madame Arcati.
Last week poor Derek Acorah died
His spirit passed over to the other side
Not Tranmere, not Everton, but the great blue yonder.
Now lovers of the psychic will look back and ponder
What they missed in Southport or Morecambe those nights
Of healing and elation… and uplifting sights.

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