FA Cup Final 2003 – a personal view
There was a time,
When I was just a spectator
A real hard-core, blinkered, no-nonsense,
Concentrated, non-distractable footy fan
A slouch
On the couch
Beer filling belly
As I kept up with tradition
In front of the telly
But this year (and for the last five)
The family came first
And the only thirst
That I got to slake
Belonged to four wee mites;
Two, that run and run
One, that bites
And the new arrival
So completely dependant on us,
For her own survival
And so I can only snatch
Snippets of the game
As well as sharp objects, lost money, discarded lego
Anything that could choke
… a bit like Southampton’s disappointing Wayne Bridge
Thus, instead of ardent, dedicated, mesmerised fan
I played the role, of besotted dad
And as for formation,
Well, I was all over the place :
And so it is, with one eye on the match
I try to catch
And control
The little blighters
Try to perform husbandry duties
Coo over my wife and daughter (the little beauties)
… Fully anticipating, Saints to the slaughter
And so I slotted,
Into my allotted roles
Nappy changer, tea-maker, telephone message taker
List maker, peace-maker, gardener
Welly washer, shoe fixer, lace tie-er
… Arsenal off to a flyer, Henry almost scores in the first minute
… Later, Pires does, and Arsenal win it
Cleaner, gofer, general dogsbody
… Poor game, passing’s shoddy
Chef, clown, spoon feeder, bribe merchant (whatever it took)
Shed rummager, bike shifter, knee graze kisser better
… an FA Cup first – roof closed, to prevent pitch from getting wetter
Nappy changer, tidy up leader, hoover man, apologist
(How was I to know that his Subbuteo team were camping out under the
couch?)
Nappy changer (yes again), medicine man, dispensing for a chesty cough
… Poor old Anti Niemi, stretchered off
Proud father,
Baby less than two weeks old
… Arsenal defence, not the same without Adams and Bould
She’s beautiful
Such a sweetie
… Yet still they manage to blank out Beattie
Nappy changer (you’ve no idea!), babysitter
… Arsenal looking fitter
Easel assembler, paint pot supplier
Brush dispenser, envelope licker
Postman, searching for a stamp
… Nice touch from Bergkamp
Disorganised, muddled, even though much practised and well prepared
… Great performance (only a week since his début), from young Chris Baird
Doorman, weatherman, coat finder, hide and seeker
… Seaman’s last game, as first choice keeper
Wrestling referee
Toppled, into inadvertent partaker
A playful horse
To a juvenile jockey
… Arsenal getting cocky
Oh, and lastly, a wannabe poet
… One – nil to the Arsenal, wouldn’t you just know it!
Not the most grammatically correct effort, but it’s meant to capture a mad
household and in fairness, a dull match.
Match details :
Date : Saturday 17th May, 2003
Venue : Millenium Stadium, Cardiff
Attendance : 73,726
Result : Arsenal 1 Southampton 0
Scorer : Pires, 38 minutes
Teams :
Arsenal :
Seaman, Lauren, Keown, Luzhny, Cole, Pires, Parlour, Gilberto, Ljungberg,
Henry, Bergkamp (Wiltord, 77 min)
Southampton Town :
Niemi (Jones, 66 min), Baird (Fernandes, 86 min), Lundekvam, M Svensson,
Telfer, A Svensson (Tessem, 75 min), Oakley, Marsden, Beattie, Ormerod
Referee : G Barber
Booked : Keown 29, Beattie 30, Telfer 60, Henry 68, Marsden 76, M
Svensson 90
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Publish your football poems here and then discuss them with your team mates and fans. We're archived by The British Library, so your masterpieces are in the safe hands of a world-class keeper. What a result!
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Latest Comments
5th December 2022 at 8:11 pm
Stuart, you are not alone, in your dichotomy of doubt
but without dissention
you stand alone
in hogging our attention!
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16th November 2022 at 11:04 am
[Football on soiled turf]
This is a wonderful phrase which I shall be using from now on!
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15th November 2022 at 3:54 pm
Well said Crispin. One of the reasons for The Ball 2022/23 is exactly this – that FIFA need to know. The Ball is essentially a petition to FIFA to honour their commitments to the UN Sports for Climate Action Framework. They signed up; they should act. The Qatar tournament takes the World Cup in the opposite direction to that commitment. And 2026 looks like it’ll be even worse.
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8th November 2022 at 2:06 pm
Hi Guys
Re ‘Lets Boycott Qatar ‘ poem
You probably hate me banging on..and problably know (like me) that my/your not watching the World Cup in Qatar will make no difference.
Of course it won’t. That’s not the point.
OK someone might possibly eventually publish a minimal drop in terrestrial TV viewer numbers, but I fear that is unlikely.
But please above all, do go on writing poems about the World Cup, as/you we have always done. I hate to think a poem or two of mine might l make you feel bad about comenting on a game or country …or that I’ve put you all off about wanting to contribute.
So we’d love to hear from you and read your thoughts and observations, as ever on what’s going on.
Some of us have been here since Football Poets website birth/inception for the Euros 2000 ….
All my best wishes
Crispin
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18th October 2022 at 10:06 am
Shoot! (Something we’ve also been screaming in vain at our team all season !)
Great memories Joe . Before Shoot, it was Roy of the Rovers comic too, dropping through my letterbox.
Anxiously waiting each week to see if they survived in the mexcian jungle after an ambush..or a pre-season earthquake!
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3rd October 2022 at 8:32 pm
Thanks for the kind words Sharon. Yes, it was a shame with Billy Shako, but with five subs now being allowed, he might yet make it off the bench. Even if it’s just a cameo to close out a poem.
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2nd October 2022 at 1:49 pm
John, your new book is an absolute delight and more please. It’s a shame ‘Swapping Shirts With Shakespeare’ never made it off the bench, but quality football poets light up the writing fields like Roman candles. Go well.
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4th September 2022 at 12:42 pm
Great memories Greg. Took me right back.
Today I stand on a small terrace in the hills where I live watching Forest Green Rovers in L1, and keep up with Chelsea on highlights. It’s a far cry and a world away from those times when I lived as a child within walking distance of ‘The Bridge’ – just off the Ifield Road, which led to Fulham Road. The Blues were rubbish for so long, but we loved them and somehow we stayed in the old First Division for so many seasons. And of course we got to see Greavesie at his impudent best, scoring goals for fun. Mad unpredictable games where we’d score 4 and let in five.
The looming floodlights in the dark and mist on magic night games. The big games when the ground heaved.
I don’t think we ever realized how magical and incredible it was back then. The atmosphere and arriving there so early – like you said.. just to make sure you got in. Back when Bovril, tea and cake and roasted peanuts for sixpence a back were just about all on offer.
Good times.
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4th September 2022 at 12:37 pm
see above
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18th August 2022 at 10:20 am
To put it politely!
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