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Boots

S B Ingle

Monday, September 8th, 2008

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The Old Pro wears black
Always has and always will
His boots look older than him
He’s a leader, with heart instilled

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The Maestro wears white
All talent and class
He lets others do the work
Then converts that killer pass

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The Hot Potato wears red
He drives his manager up the wall
Impetuous, rash, he just dives in
Taking the man, the boos, then the ball

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The Veteran decks his feet in blue
To indicate an aura of total calm
He’s the tortoise, not the hare
A thinker, with ‘Captain’ on his arm

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Green boots adorn the Enigma
Inconsistency his middle name
Sometimes he plays like Pele
Sometimes like Doris Day

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 The Entertainer plays in yellow boots
To bring energy to the team
His hair is bleached the same colour
He needs time to pose and preen

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Brown boots show that you’re organised
A solid defender on whom to rely
No frills or skills or trickery
He eats Desparate Dan cow pies

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 The golden boy wears gold boots
He has supreme talent and genius flair
He’ll be deadly from your set pieces
And encourage the media glare

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 Wearing silver is the sprinter
With ninety minutes of blistering pace
He can’t tackle or pass the ball
But like a gazelle, he oozes grace

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 Orange marks out the eccentric
Bounce like spacehoppers in jaffa boots
He can peel away from defenders
With the sharpness of citrus fruits

© S B Ingle 8.9.08

Notes

Sports psychologists would have us believe that the colour of your boots indicates the type of player you are. My own boots are red. They haven’t been worn in a while (studs showing signs of prehistoric mud crust – a Delia Smith recipe) but I confess that my deadlegging skill is the only one I possess.

Sadly, Norwich City has an entirely “enigmatic” squad. Don’t think I’m knocking them, – the only thing in green and yellow that moves faster is moss.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/boots-2/