1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Fabio stalks the touchline,
lean, mean I..talian machine.
Prowling, pacing, frowning,
gesticulating at his perspiring
Eyes like chips of ice,
Capello rages at every wasted pass:
back braced in frustration
as we lose possession again.
Cheeks puffed out, a picture of
Muttering something ominous
in his native tongue;
you just know his misfits
will receive the benefit
of his wisdom at half-time.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 England’s second string beaten,
but not disgraced
by the boys from Brazil.
Student of the game
Capello will have learned.
First eleven waiting in the wings
intent on revenge,
ready to inflict misery
if we play them in 2010.



Under the current manager England have the best chance of World Cup glory for many years – despite yesterday’s defeat.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/fabio/