When Catenaccio Was King
¶ 1
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Lightning fast, tippy tappy. Ole, ole –
Matador football.
Pan European smooth, silky skills on
Show. Too much.
All very nice, easy on the eye. But
Where’s the steel, the grit. The Bolt.
¶ 2
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So bring back the sixties, the seventies
Too. Ten men behind the ball. All match.
They shalt not pass, and they didn’t.
¶ 3
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Snatch an early lead, then defend, defend
Defend with your life. With every drop of
Blood – and theirs, too.
¶ 4
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No quarter given, the lost art of shutting
Up shop – no matter the stage, be it Nou
Camp or Newcastle.
¶ 5
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They can’t defend, these millionaire pretty
Boys. You can’t keep attacking and scoring
At will. It’s not the football of old.
¶ 6
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Keeping a clean sheet is what really
Counts. And the teams of my youth
Excelled at protecting the Nil.
¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 At any cost; at all costs.
20
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