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what does football mean to me?
Is a very interesting question to have asked
Causing loads of memories that I thought were long since dead
To come flooding back into my head
In one big infestation from my past.
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I can remember, January Saturday afternoons
Standing on the terraces and cottoning on to the mood
Freezing half to death.
With my Parka zipped up right to the hood
And if I tried, I could see my breath.
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But with no real use for food
United we stood
Keeping warm in any way we could.
This sometime jeering
But always admiring group.
Some sucked their hip flasks
Stuffed with a mysterious thing called booze
And I was quite happy with my polystyrene cup of soup.
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It was just like a grown-up pantomime
With all the requisite hurrahs and boos
Lots of shouting, cursing and noise.
And the occasional, ‘Come on the U’s’
Would filter through
I really was’ just one of the boys’
And if you were ‘one of the boys’
This is what was expected of you.
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And after school,
I’d sit studying my ‘British Football Encyclopedia’
And devouring each and every type of media
‘Cause when you first get a taste
You just keep getting greedier.
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Well, I flip the paper straight over
So the first thing I read’s the back page.
And I freely commit half my monthly wage
And down the pub,
I secretly want to be considered something of a wise old sage
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Has it been good for my health?
It’s certainly been detrimental to my wealth
But it’s always been something with which I gladly share my shelf
It’ll just always be a part of myself.
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And that’s how it happened
I was a child who looked away
And suddenly I’d aged
And through it all
My love for football
Is the only thing that hasn’t changed.