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You had your day – local hero for a time, long gone.
A time of fun and laughter on the fields of England.
You had your moments of skill, pure class midst the
Defensive fog. Feint, shimmy, swerve then to score.
You had it all, for a while. Back in the swinging era;
A sixties icon – trailblazing style so loved by the kids.
You had the looks, the girls at your heels. Your face
In all the papers. A prince of glamour, a king of kings.
You couldn’t last, you couldn’t win every game all by
Yourself. But you thought you could. The price to pay.
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And you gave it up, all of it – an act of faith it seemed.
But the town remembers you to this day. And how it
Felt, all those years ago; the swagger, the style, the ball
At your feet. Flicks, touches of class to evade the lunge
That would ever come. Your monikered white sports car
Outside the ground, big fish in a provincial pool of envy.
And not yet twenty four when it all ended. That smile of
Assured confidence, that trail of kids wanting autographs.
Now it’s a job in a shop, contentment (of a sort) you may
Call it. If only, if only. A talent lost, a soul gained. Amen.