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The Foot Soldiers

Alan McKean

Friday, October 22nd, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Sunday morning faithful
On the local pitches
Playing for the hell of it.
A game,
And a pint afterwards.
“It’s fun, and it keeps me fit”
They cry,
Forgetting
That they’re the base line
Of a magic triangle.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Ryman, Conference
League of Wales
And dancing,
In the streets of Total Network Solutions.
League two,
And Friday night footie on Tv.
Players earning enough
To pay a modest mortgage.
A word never used
In the Premier League.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Weekend aspirations abound.
Whether to beat the pub team
From the next village,
Gain promotion to the Football League,
Be a member
Of a team of Giant Killers
In the early rounds
Of the FA Cup proper,
Or even be scouted
By a Championship side.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 These are the backbone of the game,
Not the pampered pets
Of the Premier League.
Those who know
They’ll never earn millions from the game
Those who play
For the love of the game
These are
The Foot Soldiers

© ALan McKean October 2004

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-foot-soldiers/