Football Poets

Shoot magazine

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 1 There was a time when football mags
Fixtures and ladders and then the tags
Needed literature of the finest words
Thursday mornings with those serenading birds
It was Shoot for all seasons
For no particular reasons
Kevin Keegan, Gordon Hill
And then we paid quite happily
At the newsagents till
Articles without the overkill
FA Cup, League Cup and
The Football League
No room for reading fatigue
Shoot was our weekly football
Pleasure when the game seemed
Full of the Saturday treasure
And leisure
Shoot catering for the
1970s age
When Brian Clough seemed the
Ultimate sage
Then Marc Bolan, Sweet and Mud
But we simply chewed the football cud
As Big Mal with fedora, cigar and hat
And then Geoff Boycott gave us
The intelligent bat
Never flat
We had the Don at Leeds
Bill Shankly with spellbinding ease
Joe Harvey at Newcastle poker faced
Football boots heavy and tightly laced
Bill Mcgarry firm but fair
Then sullen with the wear and tear
Of the old First Division’s hoi polloi
Fear not, Bill you’ll never annoy
Since Wolves had the Doog, John Richards
Mike Bailey too
When he signed for Wolves
A significant coup
And so we rushed out on Thursday morn
When the new Shoot was about to be born
The new Gerry Francis column
Rise to the levity and above the solemn
Two points for a win and a point for
The draw
Clearly without flaw
Shoot captured the Beautiful Game
In its halcyon flame
When pitches resembled
Cabbage patches
Half time in alphabet
Letters, then classic matches
We delighted in Marsh, Bell
And Lee
Oh positive glee
Cooke, Osgood and Micky Droy
Unadulterated joy
Sammy Mcilroy, Lou Macari
And Poncho Pearson too
Then Steve Coppell
Flew with a trajectory into far off lands
A winger in capable hands
When wingers and midfielders
Became outfielders
Were always available in space
Beating for devastating pace
Full backs, not wing backs
Centre halves delivering
Brutal hacks
But football was our reading matter
Amid the terrace chatter
Then fanzines, blogs, phone in banter
Never tedious but meant to flatter
Those whose drag backs and stepovers
Over but never cricket overs
Devious tricks and flicks
Were the province of Shoot
Fingers on the pulse of a point
That was moot
We read about the exploits of Latchford,
Trevor Whymark, Clive Woods
Ipswich under Sir Bobby
A force for goods
In Suffolk fens
Over hills, valleys, fields and glens
Villa had Brian Little, Gary Shaw,
At Villa Park, never a mundane bore
Dennis Mortimer and rich picking
Boxes we were ticking
For all
Then we proceeded to hit
Fearsome volleys against our
Parents wall
Shoot magazine our football fix and fun
Goals rained down by the ton
Addicted to its weekly diet of League ladders
Offsides that always left us madder and madder
And then football gossip, the ups and downs
None of us betrayed any frowns
Of the promoted elite
Setbacks, then Cup Finals galore
According to the law
Lifting the old First Division trophy
Always noteworthy
Shoot, faithfully by our side
The hustle, bustle the emotional
Roller coaster ride
Never disappointing the literary lions
Of Hill, Keegan and Francis
When Shoot sold in millions
Footballers still to achieve
Their cosseted billions
Shoot though had to be our mag of choice
We had to rejoice
With rich cadences of resounding
Voices.

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