Football Poets

Futureball

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 A new age dawns on our football club, a vision for the fans
Hotels, restaurants, shops and bars within our pristine stand
Miles of stainless steel cut through a plastic moulded base
Five thousand rows of heated seats gel perfectly in place

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 No new players this season but there’s a sun bed, gym and sauna
The trophy room displays a flag from the day we won a corner
Sponsors study works of art & debate the greatest men
No talk of Shearer, Pele and Moore, but Constable, Turner and Wren

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The fans dive into the heated pool for a healthy pre-match swim
Then off to the bar for an energy drink with pasta shells thrown in
Some don’t like this way of life and look a little woozy
“Where’s Big Dave? They’ve just kicked off?” – “He’s still in the Jacuzzi”

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The crowd give out polite applause – shouting has been banned
But a scruffy old man isn’t watching the game, gazing at this sterile stand
He feels unwelcome – disinfected – afraid of what’s he’s found
An operating theatre of dreams instead of a football ground

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 He’s longing for the old iron stand enclosed in wood and nails
Stained with oil from blood and toil with rusty terrace rails
Air crammed with a working mix of beer, sweat and smoke
Factories, whiskey, fish n’ chips, passion, grit and hope

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 He craves the seasick A.M. waves despite their fading health
Stifled reports from a distant non-league land so starved of wealth
“Ok, let’s go around the grounds, have they scored a goal?”
“There’s no fear, it’s goalless here in the empty begging bowl”

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 “It’s back to the phones let’s hear your groans, they’re naming the new ground”
‘A calming sea of tranquillity’ is the best one that we’ve found
“They should have spent more money on players instead of another tier”
“So get Buzz Aldrin to open it as there’ll be no atmosphere”

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 The tannoy piercing, loud and proud, screams a harsh instruction
Move your car immediately! It’s causing an obstruction
Our star midfielder’s running late – he leaves soon after the game
We need to clear the high street so he can take off in his plane

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 Away fans herded off to market via a secret track
Pushed, shoved, poked and prodded by Shepherds wearing black
Muzzled sheepdogs rounding up the fans that go astray
Squeezed into a tiny pen as cameras stalk their prey

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 An old man drowning in champagne – Let him off the gravy train
They desecrated holy land the day they killed his iron stand
A cash injection under its skin – with heavy eyes as the cranes moved in
“We pray for those about to be wrecked” – last rites from an architect
An iron ball with a parting embrace – a rusty tier fell down its face

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 And so the new age has arrived – we know the past can’t be revived
Discharge yourself from commercial gain and it will always be a beautiful game….

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