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Ain’t football changed through the years, a couple of generations ago, it was such a simple game,
for they were the good old days, when it was a sport then it turned into a business, when the money came,
the working man would take his lads, and he’d also take his lasses,
and that wasn’t so very long ago, when football was affordable to the masses.
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Back then games kicked off at 3 pm on a saturday, and the cup final was the only game live on any tv
and it was viewed in black and white in our house, until 1973,
your old man could run a car, drink, smoke and still go down the blues
mind you he’d say what a waste of money that was, whenever the boys in blue would lose.
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Fans could relate to the players back then and me dad would say, they had the common touch,
not like nowadays nip, they’re like pop stars and they earn too bloody much,
we didn’t have chairs to sit on, we stood up and it was usually behind the goal,
and to be honest, it was still affordable, even if you were on the rock and roll.
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The terraces had crash barriers and as a nipper i couldn’t see buggerall,
But that didn’t matter, because it was about male bonding and being with your dad, and I’d hear the roar, whenever Birmingham would score,
for years i’d dangle off that barrier with a numb foot and I’d feel too cold to speak,
but I loved it, and I’d say to my big blue friend, Tara, I’ll be back again next week.
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So where’s our game, the peoples game going, you take a couple of kids now and it will cost you 100 quid at least,
for we’ve created a monster and fans are being swallowed up, by this most unwelcome beast,
I’d learn about Finney, Matthews, and the Busby Babes, who were all legends of yesteryear
and thats where I developed my knowledge and my love for the game, and if kids don’t attend, it will be too big a cost to bear.
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So wouldn’t it be nice, if we could turn the clock back and afford to watch the game that we all love,
for after all thats why it was formed for us, by our forefathers, as they now look down upon us, from a place above,
it were cricketers and church goers, we have to thank at Brum, for starting off our club,
cos they got bored in the winter and wanted an alternative to going down the pub.
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You see it was meant to be a meeting place, a union, a family tradition and you stood in the same place whilst inside the ground
cum rain and shine, home and away those loyal masses always could be found,
well football’s now lost that common touch, and without fathers taking their sons with them it will never be the same,
for some football is life and death, to others it’s more important so give the working man back his simple game.