Worlds Apart

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Went to bed last Friday night
Torres syndrome was induced
So sick of football’s current plight
Greed and money rule the roost

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 On a chilly Saturday afternoon
First pre season game was here
The kind that couldn’t come too soon
The Ram-blers, our neighbours dear

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 My three year old just wants a game
His silky touch, his slide rule pass
“Let’s play football” he proclaimed
With his old man and a yard of grass

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 On the plastic pitch, no fancy stadia
The trialists pray they’re not withdrawn
From Hungary out to far Canadia
This is grassroots, no sandwiched prawn

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 That song I couldn’t quite excrete
I sang the “Fer-nan-do Torres” line
A little voice from the back seat
Retorts with “Liverpool’s number nine”



I was so sick of football after Torres handed in his transfer request last Friday night but Saturday brought me right back to what its all about, the local derby, Cork City v Cobh Ramblers.

Both teams have been through the mill over the last number of seasons but still they survive.

The game had players from all over the world trying their damnedest to earn a contract for the coming season and my lad with no interest in any of it.

He just wanted to play ball. (And sing songs)

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/worlds-apart/