The old Stamford Bridge

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 1 Greyhound track that separated
us from our idols. Banging
the corrugated back of the Shed.
Boys’ turnstile. Rosettes, rattles,
hot dog sellers, trains that rumbled
behind the North Stand.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 1 One of the best matchday
programmes in the world.
The ‘lack of atmosphere’
the press always cited whenever
we lost. The Headhunters
made headlines at away games.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Passion of floodlit nights.
Cheerfully obscene chants
you could hear on Match of the Day.
Ugly racist boos that greeted
our first black player’s
entry on to the field.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Before tickets were bought in advance
the ground filled up slowly
from two hours before kick-off,
allowing anticipation to build,
noise to grow. Now it’s wam-bam,
all over far too quickly.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 All things must pass. If only
some players could. Pass
the prawn sandwiches, Roy …
Passing on blue fervour
to your children, no matter
how hard you tried not to.


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-old-stamford-bridge/