Fantasy Foolball

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 There I was, thinking I could win
Just like a hundred thousand others
My psyche shudders
At my own audacity
That my own pernickety, pernicious,
Tetchy, tenacious, self
Could possibly have the capacity
To select the perfect team
As if I could emulate Sir Matt,
Sir Alex, Tommy Doc, Shanks,
George Graham et al
Kitted out, in my dreams
Or so it seems,
Alongside idols
My mind so idle
And out of kilter
How could I possibly mix rapacity,
Avarice and greed,
And a head full of trivia
With nous and foresight
To out-think, to out-perform
To transfer out, in timely manner
The uneducated spanner, the twit,
About to transform
From bright star, to a parody of
Former glory, to wit,
My solicited choice
Elected from brain cells
Scrambled, like my eggs, over easy
Under a hard edged gaze
My pen having traveled, as through a maze
To arrive, thunderstruck
At a trembling nominee
… me!

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 But it is a new season
And as at every club, hope springs annually


Fantasy Football : My other hobby!
One day I’ll transfer myself out of the equation.
Signed : Fantasy Fool
i.e. no, not another spelling shocker … Damn, used that line already!

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/fantasy-foolball/