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Top of the league at home and in the changing room the air is tense,
the pressure immense, the defence is focused.
Step up as one, listen for the shout, don’t get caught coming out, and
keep your eye on that lad up-front, he’s a lanky git and an ugly runt,
but he’s flippin’ quick out of the blocks and goes down easy in the box. So,
just make sure the door stays shut, you know he’s only got one foot,
so if you can, try to push him out wide, keep him on his weaker side.
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Today you’ve all got to put in a shift, give ‘em short shrift,
give our fans a lift, let their midfield know you’re there,
go in hard but keep it fair, we don’t want a repetition of last week,
ten men against this lot and we’re up the creek.
Up front, you’ve got to pull ’em apart, get down the flanks right from the start,
you know they’re carrying extra weight, so one-touch, two-touch, penetrate.
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The veteran keeper knows the score, he’s been there before, stares at the floor,
he sits on his own, he’s in the zone, he’s only too aware the boss is
banking on him coming for crosses stopping shots and keeping a clean sheet;
no mean feat.
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Deep inside he starts to wonder, about his form and last week’s blunder
which cost the points and lost the game, will this week be the same?
Is he really carrying a knock? Is it just a mental block?
Is he just a sad old crock? He glances at the clock.