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Beating the best

Alan Brafield

Sunday, December 28th, 2003

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Anticipation rising as I climb up to my seat
The stadium bathed in sunshine people queuing in the street
The ground starts to fill the noise level rises
The game in prospect could be full of surprises
Out of the tunnel the two teams come
To their own halves the player’s run
The first ball is kicked a feeling in the air of apprehension
Listening to the crowd I can feel the mounting tension
“Play up pompey,pompey play up” rings out from my right
On the pitch my team putting up a pretty descent fight
A shot we’ve scored the crowd jump as one
Reuser saluting the fans he knows what he has done
Momentary silence from the stunned Portsmouth fans
The goal putting a slight dent in their championship winning plans
The game continues a save from Hislop a stunner from Marshall to
The chants are rising for the army in blue
Suddenly the ball breaks loose in the box Miller thumps it home
An expression of disbelief on the face of the veteran Steve Stone
With-in minutes its three the crowd erupt again
A shocked unbelievable feeling you can’t contain
Half time comes I can relax and take a breath
Before I have to start worrying about the 45 minutes left
The second half starts the crowd hoping for more
And hoping our defence doesn’t let Portsmouth score
As the minutes tick away the more nervous I seem to get
Strange feeling in my stomach and my hands begin to sweat
We’ve nearly won the end of the game is drawing near
A rare defeat for the visitors but still their fans cheer
An away fan dances bells in his hand
Conducting the singing up in the stand
The final whistle blows the crowd erupt once more
Holland salutes the fans we win, three nil the final score

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 By Alan Brafield

© Alan Brafield 4/2003

Notes

Written after Ipswich town beat portsmouth season 2002/2003

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/beating-the-best/