Neville Cardus- it’s not cricket

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Today Manchester lives, breathes,
Talks and walks
Football on pursed lips
But then you pause for a while
Neville Cardus
Manchester’s favourite son
But this is cricket
Pigeons in full conference
In the slips or mid wicket
Cardus was never one for
VAR, indecipherable offsides
Cans of spray at free kicks
Much more the leisurely languor
Of third man boundaries
Or pavilions with passion
The gentle ruminations of the
Cricket was Cardus
Not the fiery combustion engine
Of football’s multi million
Pound playmakers
On left and right wing
Dropping deep,
Tracking back,
Stepovers and dragbacks
Mazy, bewildering runs
Forged in the steel of
The moment
Cardus preferred quiet,
Rippling applause
As Old Trafford trains rumbled
By electronic scoreboards
With centuries, overs,
Maiden overs, tales
Of yorkers and googlies
Temperamental wickets
Bring on the covers
Rain stopped play
Cardus may have tolerated
The giant sized egos
Match of the Day
Analysing the obvious
And not so abundantly clear
But Cardus may have preferred
The murmuring sedateness
Of Lords, Trent Bridge,
And yes Old Trafford
Of course
Where once David Lloyd,
Clive Lloyd, Jack Bond
Combined the subtleties
Of music from a thousand
Bats, cracking fours
Sweetly humming over
The lilting rhythms of
Cricket but not
Oh if only



An ode to Neville Cardus, Manchester’s favourite son, cricket but not football. City or United? We’ll never know.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/neville-cardus-its-not-cricket/