Cup Magic
¶ 1
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Cliches abound as
pampered Premiership primadonnas
pit their wits against the minnows
from Conference North on a
pudding of a pitch.
Full house shoe-horned into
tiny ground looks on as
quality strike from early free-kick
arrows into top corner, keeper beaten.
But goal serves only to galvanise;
part-timers come forward in waves
( how apt on sodden, soddin’ pitch ),
thwarted only by last-ditch tackles
and myopic ref who fails to spot
cast-iron pen.
Disappoinment turns to disbelief
when home side awarded late spot-kick,
hand ball in box from ex international
now rather long in the tooth.
Silence descends momentarily;
anticipation of home support feverish.
Then bedlam as confident kick
nestles neatly in net.
Home hero turns to salute
success starved fans and prepare himself
for inevitable interviews
from hacks hell-bent on
story which is worthy of note.
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