One For The Back Seat Drivers.

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 It’s the final match of the season
The whistle to turn round has blown
A coach orders his charges: suck oranges and listen
Instead of sitting there moaning an groaning.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 “Is anyone hurt, or suffering here lads?”
He says as he looks round the room
Midst a tweaking of laces and muddy shin pads
Fourteen youngsters decide to stay schtum.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 “Win this, we’re getting promoted
Lose, and we stay where we are
We’re doing okay, so lets try not to blow it
You’ve done great even getting this far.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Do you recall what we said about team-work,
How we win, lose or draw as a team?
No losing your temper or feigning your hurt
If the other side is getting stuck in?

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 No questioning the referee’s decisions,
Bad mouthing or calling him names
Do you remember how earlier in the season?
We were lauded for our manner of play?”

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 The puzzled youngsters think these comments unkind
“But coach we’ve heard every word that you’ve said?”
“I know you have lads,
Now nip over to your parents stood on the touchline,
and check that they’ve been getting the message!”



On reliving fierce contests I fought in
Halcyon fields where I battled in youth
Now as a track suited dad I recall overcoming
Odds which never stack up as the truth!

The above poem is inspired by watching a kids match in a local park, where a pristine pair of trainers and a lurid track suit give one (or so it seems to me at least) a far better knowledge of our game than that of a wizened old coach, who has been there an seen it all.

Carefree…. braised in Celery.

Go well and be lucky.



Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/one-for-the-back-seat-drivers/?shared=email&msg=fail