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I (almost) subbed Martin Chivers

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I once played with Martin Chivers,
Sunday team were short and he said yes!
He ran the local pub by the river,
And tho’ 50-odd he pulled on our vest.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 A man of grace, blond in hair and beard,
A North-London sagging Socrates,
strength and strike still to be feared,
Innate timing, he passed with alacrity.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 But 3-nil down at half time,
International pentagenarian flags.
Then, as ever, Chivers foot like a tine,
On a mortally wounded stag

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 pierces the net, with professional relish,
scores for Brookmans Park thirds – at last.
Pride of the Park Lane and the English,
looks up to silence in the municipal park.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Later on the bleary subs arrive,
and with youth may come a result.
I ask Uefa Cup winner Chiv to make way, he replies:
and I quote, “That would be the final insult.”

All true and I have witnesses. Early 90’s Observer Review Sunday League – Brookmans Park A’ team. What grace the man had; what an idiot I am.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/i-almost-subbed-martin-chivers/