It’s Off

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Snow on the ground, ice in the sky – orange balls weather
In the days when players’ safety came last on the refs’ list.
Then in was crunch and clatter, slashed studs skidded hard
To put the winger in to touch (never mind owt else). Shins
And turf suitably gashed…thick, nobbly bounces and only
The keepers wore tracksuit bottoms. Outfielders in gloves ?
Not in those times. Lines cleared and they just got on with it.
Now, a few flakes and it’s off. Primadonas the lot. And you
Can’t tackle, the ref cards you – then you’re off. Why bother…
Bring back frosted fields, uncovered. Skates not boots to get
You through ninety minutes – a great leveller they used to say.
No winter breaks here; soccer the game for all seasons, for
All men. As English as the weather, as honest as a centre
Back. Rain, shine, wind, we always got through it all – so why
Not the white stuff ? Undersoil heating – who needs it – not the
Blues, you bet. So play on, play on; the elements be damned.


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/its-off/