THE GALLOPING MAJOR (a football refugee)
¶ 1
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“Look at the little fat chap,”
we’re bound to thrash this lot,”
is a quote from an England player,
who’d never seen the wee mans shot.
¶ 2
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Ninety minutes later,
the score was six to three,
but not for mighty England,
but to the Magyers of Hungary.
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FERENC PUSKAS
born in Budapest — 1927
and along with Best and Pele,
he’d make any world eleven.
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A major in the army,
whose team it was Honved,
the greatest team the world had seen,
until Real Madrid.
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He didn’t have a right foot
and couldn’t head the ball,
was two stone overweight
and wasn’t very tall.
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“You’ll land on your arse,
if you kick with both feet,”
was his answer for cynics
when he heard their critique.
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But his left foot it was magic,
to goalies it brougt fear,
and he averaged almost a goal a game,
in an illustrious career.
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Hot favourites in 1954,
to lift the prized World Cup,
the Magyers lost to West Germany,
despite being two nil up.
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Then in the year of 56,
Honved were playing in Spain,
when they were told that back in Budapest,
things had gone insane.
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An uprising had taken place,
beside the Danube banks,
and now the city of Budapest,
was full of Soviet tanks.
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Puskas was told in no uncertain terms,
he had better not return,
so he had to become a refugee,
while his beloved city burned.
¶ 12
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He played in Austria for a year,
then tried Italy,
but they refused him a work permit,
questioning his ability.
¶ 13
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Then at the age of thirty one,
he brought his great talent off to Spain,
when he joined the great Real Madrid,
and commenced an eight year reign.
¶ 14
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A signing on fee of ten thousand pounds,
meant he could put money in El Banco,
and he soon became a favourite,
of the Spanish leader Franco.
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His scoring feats continued,
his left foot it was hot,
and he was Real’s top scorer,
four years on the trot.
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Di Stefano, Gento, Puskas,
the great line from La Liga,
forget about Raul,
Ronaldo, Zidane, Figo.
¶ 17
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Then in 1960
he got Hampden Park to roar,
as Real hammered Eintract Frankfurt,
and Puskas he scored four.
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To his eighty four caps for Hungary,
he added four for Spain,
the pudgy little number ten,
with the super football brain.
¶ 19
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He said adios to Madrid,
as his fortieth approached,
and he wandered all five continents,
where he managed —- trained and coached.
¶ 20
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San Francisco, Chile, Africa,
and Panathinakos Greece,
but he yearned to return to Hungary,
so he could die in peace.
¶ 21
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Then one night in Germany,
the Berlin Wall came down,
and instead of sending tanks in,
the Russians made no sound.
¶ 22
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The people took the inch,
grabbed a foot —- and then a yard,
and when free elections came along,
took the Independence card.
¶ 23
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So Hungary was free once more,
the ‘chubby maestros’ dream,
and he returned to Budapest again,
and coached the national team.
¶ 24
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But the ‘ little fat chaps’ gypsy blood,
still had the wanderlust,
and he travelled obscure corners,
to coach and earn a crust.
¶ 25
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He was last heard of in Australia,
I don’t know if he’s alive or dead,
but here’s to the ‘GALLOPING MAJOR’
the refugee captain from Honved.
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