Football Poets

Opening Day Memories

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 It hurts
Top at half time
Bottom by five
The day that eras come alive
But you never how it’s going to fall
During this cruel time
It’s anyone’s call.

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Once the league cup first round eased us into the swing
of mid-table hopes and relegation thoughts
And occasionally raised a cautious hope
that this was the start of a promotion onslaught
Then the old ground would swell with August’s cheer
Until Exeter arrived
With a guy called Beer.

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Then a recuring theme lead to supporter’s derision
As we eased other clubs into the third division
Watford, Southend, Brentford, and co
But in-between we didn’t know
That a humble beginning against Stockport at home
Was the start of a journey into the twilight zone.

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Buckley the manager at 28 years old
A goal down to the Hatters with bovril going cold
Cue Donald Penn and *Ian Paul
To strike hope into our hearts
Within three years they’d both be gone
But that was just the start.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 At Ashton Gate in ’85 the heat wave’s plague was flying ants
Steve daley in a yellow shirt
The flying insects spoilt our chants
But just as Bristol squared the spoils
And rendered null our insect toils
O’Kelly breathed amidst the plague
and summoned an Irish/Alvechurch rage
“I will not let the faithful down
I’ve got the ball and so what now?
I’m in the box so let’s fall down”
Last minute penalty
Goal, 3-2.
The under-rated entertainers of 85, the second Buckley team
were born.

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Then many years of comic capers
Days when you had to buy the papers
Not to consider Sunday’s match reviews
But to remind yourself
It had happened to you.

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Matthew Bryant agianst Torquay
“great we’re at Blackpool”
“Oh no
nil three”
Then a wierd day out with George Oghani
and a kid called Byng – again Torquay.

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 But the strangest days are at Gilligham away
Could we raise a team?
It was a steaming hot day
Enter the man we came to know as Sir Ray
And so many heros were blooded that day.

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 So what ever happens on Saturday
a dawn as false as Sibley
Or Shrewsbury Town away
An embarrassing waste of our money and noise
Another stick in the heart
Another emotional void

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 But if the smug tractor boys should traverse their homeward fens
Thinking Walsall are rubbish
because we can’t defend
Just remember the last game
We played before the nation
They were premier glory bound, for us
twas relegation

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 To meet them now on equal terms
Shows everyone how much we’ve learned
Since O’Kelly, Penn, and Ian Paul
And the fading hopes of old Walsall
We wore our hearts upon our sleeves
As Fellows Park blew Autumns leaves
We dreamt we might once see the like
Of live tv…
and Wolves…
On Wednesday night.

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