Angels of Wallasey

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 As when the present is slightly off –
Bourneville, Perrier, a Foster’s crate
for the beachfront whiteout game –

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 we’re back again for testing and a psychometric probe
at just the time we had unwound, drifting
beyond the training app’s regimen
as Angels of Wallasey with no V02 max,
indeces of saturated fat or inner coconut dimensions
to the flight from scrambled bi-planes
over the Wirral of our past.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Now the mind and body, in thrall to algorithms,
have become suspended negatives in an abandoned darkroom
as sprinklers refresh a path between cones
through fenced-in fields to cryogenic rooms
where Mary used to supervise tea urns and pies
as dusk encroached on the 5 on 5.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Now every moment is measured and digitised,
walking on water is due to a platform &
levitation just a trick of the mind.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 But we’ll sort through old cuttings,
weighted training vests aside,
for unexplained fragments of time
outside your sports science,
think of the angels of Port Sunlight
alive beyond distant treelines
while a spreadsheet notes how we should have passed.



Time for pre-season testing and lots of scientific measurements – yet the players were never truly free as would have had to follow a set training plan throughout their few weeks off, perhaps only able to escape through the imagination and thoughts of unsolved stories, such as that of the angel over Wallasey, tricks by Dynamo and other mysteries.


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/angels-of-wallasey/?shared=email&msg=fail