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All Our Yesterdays

Andy Lockett

Wednesday, July 26th, 2006

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Sundays were for soccer on the big, open field;
Real goalposts, a quagmired goalmouth to dive
About in – dirty knees in your jeans to take back
Home. Games went on for ages, or so it seemed.
Big kids, small kids – some were good, you could
Never get the ball. Others did their best, and we
All had fun – friendships made, and broken, then
Made again, all in the name of a simple game.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Picked first, or last – what would be your fate ?
Sometimes your lot won, but it didn’t really
Matter – too much – if you didn’t. First to reach
Fifteen goals, as darkness closed in and lights
Came on in nearby houses – a call to tea, and bed.
Or maybe it was shots in, fly goalie, penalty kicks,
Anything at all to pass the time on long, hot days
Through August – when the real footy started.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Then you’d imitate your heroes, re-enact the last
Home match from start to finish – just as enthralling
To youngsters who were obsessed with playing, with
Collecting, with watching, with reading – with it all.
And once hooked, it’s a lifetime thing – boys grow up,
But their fixation never fades; it just develops into a
Deeper, longer-lasting passion. From schooldays to
Retirement, it’s always Football, Football, Football.

© Andy Lockett 2006

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/all-our-yesterdays/