Football Poets

Elegy in a Brazilian stadium

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The whistle blows the knell of extra play
As up above the big screens blaze with light
Eleven shadows plod their weary way
And leave the field to other men’s delight

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The moping skipper to the ref complains
A grown man cries and rubs his aching bones
A stone-faced fullback stifles his own pains
Another shuns reproachful microphones

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Their agony is watched in untold lands
But presently they’ll climb up to the podium
Wave rueful thanks at disbelieving fans
And disappear in silver-medalled odium

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 For them no more shall Roman candles burn,
Or faithless women ply their nightly care
No airport throng will greet the side’s return
Or selfie-seekers mob them everywhere.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 But no one will be quick to draw the curtain
The stand-up wag will mock their fruitless toil,
Their shrinking worth and destinies uncertain,
In jibes that bring the coolest blood to boil.

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Their humbling will be televised anon
As commentators mourn the nation’s honour
Higuàin’s miss will replay on an on
Along with archive clips of Maradona.

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 The noxious scrawler smearing the urinal
The columnist whose condescension oozes
( “Well done, dear boys! At least you made the final”)
Each in his way says: “You’re a bunch of losers.”

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Direct by email insults will be hurled
And via blogs where nameless hatred strikes
As shallow twitt’ring flits around the world
They shall endure death by a thousand likes.

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 “The young among us will bounce back,” one rues.
“Messi should play in two more World Cup teams
“He has got time to win and time to lose
“To hope, to dream and give our people dreams.

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 “But what of me? In vain I look for reasons
“To keep the faith. At thirty-two years old
“I might well last another two, three seasons –
“That’s if my ankle, luck and hamstrings hold.

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 “But then what? Coaching’s not my cuppa tea
“I’ve never known how you devise a system.
“And punditry? I lack that uppity
“Manner that makes old drivel sound like wisdom.

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 “I could make money-spinning ads for Pringles
“Or flaunt my thighs to sell undies, perchance
“But all the merry slogans and the jingles
“Would have to me the ring of funeral chants.

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 “Will I become one of those also-rans
“Who thinly trade on half-forgotten feats?
“I’ve seen a few today around the stands
“For they’ve not lost the art of wangling seats.

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 “Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble rage,
“Their sobered wishes never learn to stray;
“And through their sad sequestered middle age
“Lingers the dated swagger of their way.

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 “Can pub events and talks in town halls soulless
“Attended by old men in old club shirts
“Bring to their hearts a modicum of solace?
“Can this apply the spray balm where it hurts?

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 “The boast of sponsorship, the wealth, the power,
“All things that come from nimbleness of feet,
“Await alike th’ inevitable hour
“The paths of glory lead but to defeat.

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 “The same is true of our victorious foes
“Yes all careers, obscure or bright, end thus.
“So do not ask for whom the whistle blows
“We know full well: it blows for all of us.”