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A Vision of the Future

mark merriman

Friday, August 19th, 2005

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 “Grandad, where are we going?”
my grandson asks as we
fight our way through the traffic.
“And your hands, why are they shaking?”

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Brushing away a salty tear,
I pause to reflect.
We are going back, way back,
memories surfacing, suffocating.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Parking the car, I get out slowly,
aware of prying, hooded eyes.
Chest pounding, dry mouth,
pulse quickening rapidly.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Slowly, painfully I shuffle
to the front of the kiosk.
“Two please,” I breathe,
the whisper sounding hoarse, strained.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Pausing, we clank through the turnstile,
gateway to the past.
Unnoticed, a hand has slipped
quietly into my wrinkled paw.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Walking across the green carpet,
our destination, a goal.
Lining the ball up,
striking it with all my might.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Registering a pitiful 38m.p.h. on the speed gun;
further evidence of my frailty.
Even my grandson fares better-
47 and he’s only 9!

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Next stop, a small shop
with row upon row of shirts;
mostly red with some
a different hue entirely:

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 All white, blue and black stripes;
white, light blue trim; blue and black quarters;
green splodge; hideous gold and black;
Brazil yellow worn with

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 pride in the team’s brief
but disastrous sojourn,
solitary season in the
Premier league last century.

11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 Feeling a sharp tug on my sleeve,
expectant eyes looking up.
“Grandad, can you buy me a shirt?”
Almost as if he knows what it all means.

12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 Whispering, “which one would you like?”
An eternity of choosing, then
red retro circa ’69,
era of Rogers, Smart, Noble.

13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 Moving on, a plastic dug-out,
the aim to bellow instructions to
Hologram Town, players moving across the astroturf;
you against the computer. No competition.

14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 Next the trophy room, long and thin,
empty save the few cups and shields
standing crestfallen and neglected
behind cloudy, scratched glass.

15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 Finally the films.
We sit, my grandson and I alone,
just a few old boys
wheezing and spluttering at the images on the screen.

16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 Flickering, grainy pictures of the
Wembley triumphs in ’69, ’90 and ’93.
Championships in ’85 and ’96:
sea of crowds celebrating.

17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 Then the protests;
20,000 through the streets in ’90;
even more in 2030,
faces contorted with rage.

18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 But nothing we could do to
save the ground from the developers.
Trendy maisonettes, shops
to replace the pitch and stands.

19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 Small astroturf pitch,
trophy room, the ‘Shirtshop’,
council’s attempt to placate
furious fans.

20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 Nothing now but memories,
even those fading fast.
Worst thing of all?
Not able even to take my grandson to football.

© mark merriman 18 sept 2004

Notes

Is this the future for ( some of ) our clubs? Is this the worst nightmare of all? Shopping instead of football on a Saturday afternoon!?

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/a-vision-of-the-future/