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Season After Season

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Fresh, lush grass – shines in the summer heat, ready for action.
Unblemished by studmarks, a smooth, expectant surface on which
To perform those training ground moves – but will they work, when
It really matters, when the pressure’s on, and the chips are down ?
First home game, a ready crowd – hoping, wanting, needing, waiting
For the big push, a flying start to blitz the opposition with goals…
Or maybe not. Back to reality, a nine month struggle looks the norm
For this overpaid, underachieving mob; the usual early League Cup exit,
An autumn of toil as days draw down, and the temperature drops –
Match by match. By November, it’s floodlit fare on gloomy afternoons.
A slog through the elements when winter sheds stuff from the sky
Onto the once-pristine field of play, now worn down the centre and
Clogged in mud on the bad days. Battling the boggy stretch, a good
Excuse for the shirkers – a challenge the stronger characters will relish.
Christmas brings little cheer, just a big turn-out on Boxing Day and
The inevitably impotent performance. Why can’t they turn in on when
The occasional punters turn up ? A dodgy third round tie welcomes in
Another New Year; nothing to lose ‘gainst lower league challengers.
A squeeze through to face Premiership quality; the predicted failure…
Meanwhile, the grass is no longer lush – nor even present, in places.
It’s the long goodbye, a damp squib to run down the calendar; Mid-table
Mediocrity beckons. And still we come, expecting the odd miracle,
Maybe a goalfest when it’s least likely. But no, it never happens, and
May arrives – almost unnoticed – warmer weather to greet the players’
Farewells at what can’t be called an enthusiastic finale. It’s over, again
And the stats are consigned to Rothman’s. But still, roll on August…

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/season-after-season/