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The Beautiful Game

michael spring

Tuesday, April 19th, 2005

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 A crock of shite was how one bloke described it.
But really, it was much worse than that.
There were more high balls than a Hollywood bar,
And more dribbling in the crowd than on the pitch
(At least three under-fives were present).

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Their centre-forward was said to be wanted internationally,
Presumably by Interpol,
To prevent more mental cruelty.
So, when the sleet arrived, we just pulled our scarves tighter
And shrugged.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 On days like these, you know you could have more fun
Unblocking drains, welding in the Gdansk shipyards,
Or playing hide and seek with an enraged rapist,
Than in watching the beautiful game
Being torn limb from limb by cart-horses.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 But then one of our lads
(Our lads, and away from home, whose boots had looked
Like a farmer’s Wellingtons a moment before)
Feinted one way, went the other, swivelled and shot
High into the top corner as the keeper leapt.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 One-nil, and away from home.
We talked about the play-offs going down the motorway
Singing, and with the cans glinting,
Smiling, joking; nothing subdued
But the lighting.

© michael spring

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-beautiful-game-5/