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…


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