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When you’re up in the stands
Your head in your hands
and three points have morphed in to one
You can’t even bear to look up
As publicly cursing your luck
Might turn the one you hold now in to none.
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When their last minute winner
Ruins romantic dinners
While you re-live their whole move again
She’s laughing and smiling at you,
While adhering to a four-four-two
You’ve decided is the cause of your pain.
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When the journey homes fraught
and you’re harboring thoughts
You’ve blown it all, because of today
Despite the other chasing team
Drawing a blank, or heavily conceding
You feel your chance is still slipping away.
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When neutral mates down the pub
Take the Michael and rub
Your face in it large when you lose
“Son this after your defending were farcical
Better watch out for The Arsenal
Your five points in fronts, down to two”.
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When you slouch in to work
Drained, pained and emotionally hurt
From a week-end of morbid excess
Friday night’s eager expectation
Now sits in total ruination
Due to a short sighted, and overweight eff of a ref.
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When those know nothing hacks
Ridicule and slate your toothless attack
Quoting massive ego’s for the down-turn in form
Adding even more fuel to the fire
You recently felt was a lack of desire
and passion, you had thought as the norm?
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Then on a crowded after match street
Having narrowly avoided defeat
Making tracks to the train among like minded folk
A strange kind of feeling kicks in
Simply inspired by this fortunate win
That maybe…just maybe, after today we can at least hope?
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Then…you keep on dreaming
and what’s more believing
You’re going to be champions, fully deserving of titles and cups
Coz every now and again
A fan’s crazy dreams will come true – erasing our memory of pain –
and when they do, (to quote Mr Ranieri)
“Why…would you want to wake up”?