Football Poets

Ilford FC.

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Suddenly the roar would go up
Ilford football club
Through the autumnal chills
The icy, wintry blasts of
January morns of frost
Bitten grasses coated
With dew
But then
Those auspicious signs
of Spring, where daisies
And tulips would compete
In the early rounds of the
FA Cup
Linking up the play
Always available in space
Passing with grace
To the manor born
Against Ilford FC
Yes my local team
Ilford football club
Growing up in the
Leafy shadows of
the Essex pastoral
Idyll. You distantly
Followed their
Progress but then
Decided they were
Not for you.
But you could
Quite clearly
See, quite visibly
The floodlights
Illuminating your soul
Ilford’s floodlights
Beaming in the greyness
Of late afternoon
Where, joyfully the
Late hustle and bustle
Of commuters
Home from their
Daily toils
Would converge
On Lynn Road
Once the fabled
Football
Home of the 1948
Olympic Games
Where once Olympians
Stood tall
But once again
Leaning out from
Your
Youthful bedroom
Window, a muffled
Cheering would break
The temporary silence
Of agonised sighs of
Despair reigned
And then rained
For a moment or two
No need to worry
When Ilford were still
Being held 0-0
By perhaps Canvey
Island, you could
Only guess whom
Since the Isthmian
League was that
Far distant land
That none would
Ever see
Since West Ham
Were your team
Of maestros and
Dancing minstrels
But fear not they
Were your
Non League
Cousins with
A lingering smile
From afar
But Ilford
Played free
From care
And oppressive
Inhibition, off
The cuff,
Improvising when
Few must have
Known they were
There. But we
Knew about the
Their valiant exploits
In the FA Vase Cup
Wembley once many
Moons ago.
Doughty amateurs
With hearts
As large as
The terraced
Houses where
We grew up
To see Ilford
Glorious on their
Day but then
Withering and brown
As the leaves
That fell on
Our town
Near Valentines
Park where once
James Brown
Felt good and
So did we
And yet Ilford
Football club
Are the proud
Denizens of
Dagenham and
Redbridge’s new
Headquarters
Briefly rubbing
Shoulders
With the
Football League’s
Lofty hierarchy
But Ilford FC
Over the neatly
Manicured back
Gardens and
Indomitable sheds
Of our youth
Are no longer the
Non League
Masters of their
Craft
When we were
Young
The fences and
Doors, window
Panes resound
To a different
Melody today
Ilford’s floodlights
In those mid week
Battles of yore
And yesteryear
Where the
Cut and thrust
Of the Ley Street
Lions would see
Off Canvey Island
Again
Quite comfortably
With something to
Spare
Oh, Ilford football
Club,
Unbeatable and
Irrepressible when
The mood took
Them
We’ll never forget
You

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