Football Poets

The Burningfan 6

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 “Chelsea, Chelsea”
“We’ll keep the Blue Flag flying high”
But not this week, for we see half the team
Snubbing, what for many, is an unending dream
Take me, for instance, inside this die-hard fan
There is a burning fire, still
A lasting desire, to fill
The royal blue shirt
Not usually one to flirt
With fanciful ideas, unattainable hopes
But all reason pales into a nether world of reality
When one’s only wish
One’s lifetime goal
Is to play, to score
To hear the roar
From the pitch itself
Imagination running wild
Since the days of a child
To be involved
That once shoddy defence? Problem solved
Not enough bite in midfield? Too blunt in attack?
Oh, how a dozing denizen of new dentures
Has such exciting adventures!
No nightmares, in my fantasies!
And age withers not the vision
Even as the traditional mid-life crisis looms
And zooms
Towards me
To have the ultimate gift
Of a squad number, a place on the team
Is still the ultimate dream
Therefor, the chance to represent
Me and hundreds of thousands of others
Should be such an honour
So, what gives, to pass all this up?
WAR.
That good-for-nothing state of attrition
That has decimated, not the opposition
But our own ranks
The fear of tanks
Driving great holes through our back four
As each retreats, behind a closed door
Yet, even I, can understand their reluctance
This is not truculence
On their part, nor paranoia
But a real apprehension
They’re well used to crowds, to tension
Of fanatical spectators, in cauldrons of hate
But now we’re talking zealots
Whose pain knows no bounds, no thresholds
No barriers, beyond which they cannot go
And though
In football speak
That’s what we wish of our players
It is of course, all relative
We want them all fit, alive and well for the next match and the next and the next

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Petit, Desailly, Gallas, Le Saux, Gudjohnsen, Ferrer
Now this half-dozen
Vilified
For being petrified
Though in truth
They’re in more danger
Sitting at home and opening mail
Not the fan mail, I hasten to add
(for there’ll be opinions expressed, good and bad)
And as they say, sticks and stones …
No, more the current fear, that no sane person condones
The threat of chemical spores
Invading, as we listen to the scores

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