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piddle in a puddle

B. Hind

Friday, October 12th, 2001

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 High and mighty
The big bruising burly back, booted the ball
High wide and handsome
(unlike his leathery face, and for once, not skinned for pace)
Like any good defender should
Aiming the desperate clearance
Out beyond the nearest fence, and beyond a far imaginary wood
But then the ball sailed up, higher, and higher and higher, right up into the sky
Then came down, down, down, faster than a free-falling fly
Dropping like a sunburst, a fireball
Descending at a decent rate of knots
And with the wind playing tricks
The keeper, suddenly realising he’s lost the flight of the ball
Tries to recover, and regain his ground between the sticks
But discovering to his cost
A lonely patch of frost
And slips and can only watch aghast
As the ball comes down to land, at last
It bounces beyond the line, the net bulges
The brawny boozy bruiser, indulges
In a celebratory dance, dives into the mud
Landing with an earthshaking thud
A photographer catches the mood
As an almighty hug-in ensued
The all-inclusive cuddle
Right there, in the middle of the puddle
And we pissed ourselves
The OAPS, the young and old, the under twelves
At the sheer incongruity of it all
This madcap game, we call football

Notes

just using my imagination, but truth being stranger than fiction, maybe somebody has witnessed something similar?

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/piddle-in-a-puddle/?shared=email&msg=fail