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Leeds United 1970

Wynn Wheldon

Monday, February 2nd, 2015

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Mick Jones, feet slightly splayed, white boots bearing
Down on goal, muscle and heft and steaming;
Alan Clarke, malice and cunning, rat-sharp,
Arms isoscele’d, sleeves gripped tight, net keen.
Lorimer of the thick hair, burl, looking
To kill with a kick that fat old leather ball
With no twist or swerve – mere velocity.
Johnny Giles, wily as an Irish poet;
Bremner an undying flame, constant heat.
Charlton and Hunter: would you dare argue?
Cooper, dark, otter sleek, wing back before
Such things were. Poor Madeley: ‘utility’.
But how to speak of Gary Sprake. Remembered
For error and mistake, and for being Welsh.
Reaney and Gray must await another day.
I was no Leeds supporter, but at twelve
This was the team that stamped itself into
Memory’s mould, which has not loosed its hold.

© Wynn Wheldon, 2015

Notes

Editor Note
Great memories.. Welcome to Football Poets. More please!

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