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Look at this man, this football fan

Alistair Wilkinson

Sunday, November 21st, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Look at him, no hope for him, stuck with his
position, no hope for his salvation, no ideas
above his play-station, taking what he’s given,
he’s bitter but he still says thanks. Thank god
for the Yanks, I can call him white-trash and
not sound like a snob calling him working class,
because that’s me, I work in the factory next to
the normal men reading FHM, dreaming of fake
ladies wishing for so many maybes. We’ve all
got dreams and I like to think mine aren’t from
a magazine. I read that in a fanzine, well I might
have, is a ‘big team’ a must-have? Anyway back
to my example chav. He can’t afford to watch
his team, the home games too far away and he’s
got his Sky bill to pay. I’m not pacified
by mind wiping telly and an easy full belly,
super-markets and televised wars but no interference
for the football scores. Keep him away from Town,
keep him down; don’t let him think, let him binge
drink, make him fight, against his peers on a
Saturday night, don’t let him realise he may have
an identity, something more to see. Keep using
the booze and the game to spread the blame for
the problems in our society, never mind there’s
nothing to work for but money, nothing to aspire
to but a high-street-honey.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/look-at-this-man-this-football-fan/