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Days when the sun shone, sharp and flat in your
Eyes across the stands from way out west; cold
Days warmed by the goals you watched as that
White netting bulged.
No chance, goalkeeper.
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Nights when the rain slanted down, through the
Hazy blue glow of the floodlights – soaked skin
Deep it felt, but it didn’t matter when the score
Went in our favour.
4 – 2, in injury time.
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Packed together, swarming out into side streets.
Home; dodging puddles and queuing for the bus.
Contented – a quiet, warm glow settling. There’s
Nothing like winning,
And we won tonight.
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Sometimes, we lost. How could that even happen ?
It unsettled my world, not right or proper. That goal
Was offside, that penalty – never. Ref must support
Them, got to be a reason.
Truth hurts at ten years old.
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Realities in football; dreams stay with us, but decay
With time – when kids grow up and men grow old.
But we cling to nostalgic memories of a brighter past.
It was better then,
It was cheaper too.
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So celebrate, commemorate – raise a glass, turn on
The DVD to a world where only the best was good
Enough. And didn’t we just get the best, every time.
Or so we believed,
Those far off days.