We’ve touchline thugs unfolding grudges,
Each time two youth teams meet
Some are re-living never played in games,
With a twitching of their feet
‘Were you as half as good, as you say you were,
When you were my age dad’?
‘Er….yes son, come to think of it, I was,
But not in eyes of other lads’
“I could have been a great defender’
Really? That’s pretty impressive stuff
‘But… the manager didn’t fancy me much,
So I didn’t play enough’
If’s and buts are not enough,
To let you prowl carte blanche
The touchline most Sunday morning’s
Telling any mug who’ll listen, ‘Here’s how it should be done….’
Do we really need pitch side know it all’s,
Inviting ‘Get stuck in’, who in their prime
Were ‘stuck in goal’ as the only way of getting a game?
In matches played in open streets, devoid of all white lines,
Were these fathers, just like the rest of us,
Super stars,….. on the playing fields of their minds?