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Green turned white, crunching under stud; the
Lines cleared, an orange ball flies through the
Leaden sky – game on. No pitch too rough, too
Dry, too wet to play on. Get stuck in, boots and
All – be it brown quagmire or bone hard surface.
The ball incidental at times, as bodies collide in a
Sonic thud. Gloved keeper claims, and feeds his
Full back, who trundles off towards halfway.
No glossy primadonnas, touch players a luxury
As the weather swirls around the old ground.
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Fighting hard, no prisoners, no space, no inch
Given by those sturdy, implaccable rearguards.
A ball clears the stand, a pause in the frenzied
Action. But not for long…The skies get darker,
Crowd gets restless, feeling short-changed for
Their hard-earned shillings. This war of attrition
Subsides as ninety minutes nears, a comforting
Face-saving draw will keep everyone in a job –
For one more week, at least. Snow thaws, that
Warm bath calls; the elements won out today.