not anonymous, when you’re eponymous!

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I loved school
I hated school
I tolerated school
In hindsight, I cherished school
I loved playing football
in school, out of school
pre-school, après school

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 And then….
then there were the weekends!
kick-abouts on the green, until well past bedtime
or shooting in the back garden
where the daffs and gladioli, never stood a chance
(“dead eye dick dastardly dead-heads!” – Mam is the real poet!)
and when I was done destroying
there was Football Focus
World of Sport
Sports Report
Kojak, Parkinson, Match of the Day
The Big Match
my match

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 But…
best of all…
(well – apart from my match, and visiting the Bridge)
better than Sunday Roast
better than ice cream from the fridge….

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Saturday morning, my sacrosanct station
moored, steadfast, at mandatory location
I’d stand by the door
waiting for whichever parent
was home from nights
my spindly little arm proffered, my hand out
waiting for my palm to be greased
and li’l sis and annoying bro be damned
as soon as the coinage was in my grasp
off I’d run
to the end of the lane
over the footbridge
across the meandering muddy stream
ignoring the sticklebacks and tadpoles and newts
that usually finished up in the back of the net
(whenever the ball was burst)
ignoring the dumped bikes, cans and bottles
ignoring any floating whatsit, that might, just might
end up at Hampton Court Palace, after an epic journey…
I ignored everything
although I’d pause
and sneer at the bloated backs – defending a corner
the multi-midriffed midfielders, huffing and puffing
the feeble forwards, who missed barn doors and cleared 20ft railings
little realising, that what I derided then and there
would in fact
be my own level, when exiting junior football

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 I digress, there was a more important goal to attain…
the shop was another 100m burst, at Alan Wells pace
I’d fly in, slam down my pennies
so pleased, proud and euphoric
that the money in my pocket
bought me the latest….
of Blackie Gray…
and Racey’s Rocket!



The title?

Roy Race first appeared in Tiger.
then if I remember right, Scorcher n Score
before eventually, such was his fame, the comic was named after him!

Roy of the Rovers – a ritual read, where dreams did breed!

Blackie Gray? Roy’s steadfastly loyal sidekick.

Alan Wells? Olympic Gold medallist at 100m in the Boycott Games.

on the way to the shop…
I’d watch Old Hamptonians, who played in the Old Boys League.
I played in the Southern Amateur League, a sister league.
And later – I played with 2 of Parky’s 3 sons, great lads, a real credit to their dad.

Over the stream: the Longford River – a misnomer, it was a feeder canal to Henry VIII’s palatial home.

I didn’t care – I had the adventures of the World’s greatest ever footballer to keep me entertained!

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/not-anonymous-when-youre-eponymous/?shared=email&msg=fail