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When Catenaccio Was King

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 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 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 So bring back the sixties, the seventies
Too. Ten men behind the ball. All match.
They shalt not pass, and they didn’t.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Snatch an early lead, then defend, defend
Defend with your life. With every drop of
Blood – and theirs, too.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 No quarter given, the lost art of shutting
Up shop – no matter the stage, be it Nou
Camp or Newcastle.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 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 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 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.

7

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/when-catenaccio-was-king/