Touchline dads
¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 A winter’s day, a darkening sky. Warned
¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 by the ref midway through the first half
¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 for over-enthusiastic touchline coaching:
¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 I don’t know what you’re on, but I want some of it.
¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Those games meant more to us dads than the boys.
¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 We poured our hearts and souls into them.
¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 My lad didn’t score that day, but he put quite
¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 a few away. That feeling when your boy heads
¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 a last-minute winner. You’re walking on air.
¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 Back to this game. We beat our fierce rivals,
¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 but that wasn’t the half of it. An ambulance
¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 drove on to the pitch in the second to take
¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 our striker to hospital. No bones broken,
¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 thank goodness. Perfectly good goal
¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 of ours got flagged offside by one of theirs.
¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 Thought no more about it, until the final whistle.
¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 As the sun went down he and our centre back’s
¶ 18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 dad were in a ball on the centre circle,
¶ 19 Leave a comment on verse 19 0 fists flying. Ok, our lads were embarrassed.
¶ 20 Leave a comment on verse 20 0 But what a match! The pride and the passion.
¶ 21 Leave a comment on verse 21 0 That’s what I call a proper local derby.
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Thanks for sharing Greg!
All of us Dads have been there!
My proudest moment in life (towering over any game I ever won) was when my lad (“Patrick the Hat-trick”, as in 3rd born) powered in a penalty shootout into the top corner – the littlest fella on the pitch and yet the coolest customer! And yes they won their final! (I couldn’t believe it – he was the little Billy Bremner / Chopper Harris throwback, and yet Le Tiss like when it mattered!!!!)
BTW…. as to the poem…
it wasn’t me!
Yes, I played against Addlestone!
I was a skinny little wretch that turned up every week on the sideline, until eventually at about age 15 I sprouted and developed… I reckon I was Dennis Irwin before Dennis Irwin!
Only… I was playing in the black and green stripes of Hampton Hill Celtic…. (yes we started out as green and white hoops). Happy days!
But as a Dad, my watching brief has been here in Ireland.