Out of the Carabao Cup – but who cares?

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The claret and blue regiment
West Ham with rather less
In the way of footballing
Once again bundled out of
The Carabao Cup
By the old enemy or
But still amusingly so
From across the northern
Waters of London’s
Geographical divide
Or the Littlewoods Cup,
The Milk Cup, the Marks
And Sparks, Poundland,
Tesco, Morrisons Cup
Whatever your choice
Of commercial emporium
A product of our times
And still a highly valued
Marketable commodity
Around the world
But no longer associated
With the old League Cup
Or perhaps that should read
The Alan Hardaker Cup
For he was the brainchild
The catalyst of this ludicrous
Anachronism, out of date
No longer applicable to
Anything as far as we
May be concerned
Just a pointless trophy
With little to recommend
To anybody in particular
Still the FA Cup’s distant
Cousin but not nearly as
Cherished, rather like
The consolation prize
And gold fish at the fair
But tonight West Ham
Bade farewell to
The League Cup
A meaningless reward
For hearty endeavours
And a place in Europe
We will certainly not lose
Any sleepless nights,
It’s a sham, an impostor
A fraud, nothing to write
Home about
No more than
A substitute for the real
Thing, a Wembley
date in March but
Still a trophy that
May only be mentioned
Fleetingly when the balance
Sheet at the end of the season
Registers your name
Carved for posterity
But lacking in value,
Or recognition by
Premier League
Bourgeoisie, the upper
Classes sniff and sneer
Disdainfully at its so
Called irrelevance
When compared to their
Their lofty station
At the top of the
Premier League
This after all was
The Cup that began
With Rochdale in the Final
When the Sixties began to
But then Liverpool, Man Utd
City, Spurs and the big
Hitters brought perspective
And reality to the table
And yet the Carabao Cup
It is a Thai energy drink
But intoxicating
Nonetheless for all
Its critics and sceptics
An alcoholic incentive
A day for dizzy, giddy
Heights in springtime
For social gadabouts
And roustabouts
Well oiled throats drink
From the foaming inebriation
In late March, a pint of your
Best, be it Spurs, Arsenal or
Chelsea to lift that precious
Piece of silverware
Be sure that West Ham
Have more pressing engagements
Europa Leagues and quite possibly
FA Cups to attend to, in the well
Heated cauldrons of the Premier
League’s business end
The Hammers are modest
Guests at more important
Parties, still impartial
Observers at the moment
Fifth on Boxing Day
In the Premier League’s
Highest tiers, a richly
Deserved position
In the pecking order
A notable achievement
So far
But the League Cup
Still has some way
To go
Before we
Its place in
The hierarchical sun



This is my take on West Ham’s exit from the Carabao Cup at the hands of Spurs.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/out-of-the-carabao-cup-but-who-cares/