A warm handshake with a knight of the realm,
we met as you signed copies of your autobiography.
Some of the goals were good, some of the goals were sceptical.
I can’t really remember what we said to each other,
but I bought two copies – one for me and one for my brother.
The first ninety minutes of a football match are the most important.
I wept when I heard the news and smile whenever I
think of great Saturdays. The taste of Champions League,
the giddiness of belief.
When Gazza was dribbling, he used to go through a minefield with his arm, a bit like you go through a supermarket.
The way they treat you, though. No class.
If we’d cut you, you’d bleed black and white.
If we cut them, they’d bleed greed.
We put three fresh legs on and got ourselves a goal.
But, let’s remember the good. The 8-0. The love for the
game that your breathed through the city. The climb from
hell to the fact that even 5under1and fans sang your name.
To Jimmy, Best Wishes from Bobby Hundreds.