Football Poets

Repeat of the 1975 FA Cup Final

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 No we’re not in the land
Of glam rock, fashion
Crimes against humanity
Flared trousers, denim
And ridiculous platform
Shoes that defied
Imagination and belief
This is not 1975 again
The FA Cup in a 21st
Century incarnation
The Hammers against the
Cottagers
It’s West Ham and Fulham
Reunited by Premier League
Fate and circumstances
Like two army buddies
From friendships long ago
East meets West
London linked by
Perfect geography
Back in the late winters
Of our lives
The Cottagers left
The Irons
Like an ailing industry
Fulham demolish the
Irons battlements
With five of the finest
5-0, yes 5-0
We were stunned
Subdued, deflated,
Startled, silenced
What happened there?
West Ham just dazed
By the Fulham stampede
What would John Lyall,
Ron Greenwood and Alec
Stock thought of this
Iconic score line
Alec as was always the case
Would have giggled lovably
But then composed himself
With a wry smile
But on the day,
Brooking, Bonds, Holland,
Paddon, Lock, Jennings
And Day on his day
While never forgetting
Alan Taylor
Cut the smartest suit
The Rochdale Rocket
For peanuts way
Back when footballers
Were oblivious to greed
And gigantic bank accounts
But back in 1975
Followed entirely different
Cultural themes
The 1970s, oh woe
A historic low
Industrial unrest
Three day weeks
Switch off the power
No electricity Harold
Floodlights dimmed
Candles were the light
Of your and my life
Dickens makes a brief
Comeback, muted applause
At the London Stadium
The Cottage visit royalty
The Queen Elizabeth Olympic
Park awaits its visitors
Her Majesty would have
Been flattered
How we felt honoured
To be part of her
Generation, a game of
Two halves
Today the Hammers
Face the final back straight
Now striving after another
Season of European conquests
Beaten by the Germans
Last Thursday
And surely the end
Of the road is nigh
A top 10 finish surely
Within claret and blue
Capabilities but still
The questions remain
Like scudding grey clouds
Persistent as the April drizzle
Moyes ball
Is still the unpalatable
Bone of contention
Does he stay
Or does he go?
To misquote an old song
Nauseating and awkward
On the eye
Style based on
Well rehearsed counter
Attacks, plodding
And pedestrian
At times,
Passing backwards,
Side to side,
Then across and beyond
The lines
It’s predictable and formulaic
Going nowhere
Pace on the flanks
Crosses galore
But never pretty or painterly
The Upton Park traditionalists
Miss the independent
Free spirits
Sir Trev and Dev,
Swapping erudite mental notes
Brooking floating across the mud
Devonshire slim as a stick
Running in harmony,
Football from the sweetest
Box of Quality Street of
Chocolates,
Deceptive directions
Leading opponents a merry dance
Today though
Lucas surely now
City bound during
The close season
He’ll be at
His most beautiful
And Brazilian on the
Ball
But the Paqueta mind
Is totally preoccupied
With Premier League
Trophies
Soucek, steady and
Sturdy but surely
Our best Czech mate
But running out of
Kings and bishops
Tomas, call a cab
For East End departure
Bowen a fundamental cog
In claret and blue
Jarrod, jaunty and goals
Galore, gallivanting here
And there
A vitally important
Component in the
West Ham machinery
So West Ham
It’s the last run into
The cricket season
A sequence of sixes and fours
Would be more than welcome
But realistically not
Top 10
That’ll do

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