Poems tagged ‘2016/17 Season’

March 4th, First Defeat of The Year


Millwall lost this morning
For the first time in 17 since
We went to Walsall all the way
Back in December

Fortunately it was only on
My radio, naturally Saturday
Mornings’ Danny Baker
Sausage sandwich game

We were trampled underfoot
By a junior under 11 team but
Then we never win
Not on that show

This afternoon I’ll take the 3 points
One-nil will do and promotion as
Champions and of course FA Cup

As next week it is Spurs and
I can smell their fear knowing
We ain’t conceded even a goal
For 11 whole games

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It’s Not So Bad This Football Lark

If our only injury is a troublesome hamstring
The only crisis is no-one playing on the wing
If the only shock is an early straight red card
Or they equalise ‘cos your keepers caught off guard

If the worst that happens is a string of defeats
With no goals scored and no clean sheets
When the breaking news is ‘the managers been sacked’
Or the kick off is delayed ‘cos the spare kit wasn’t packed

When the fire alarm goes off because some fans are acting up
When all we have to moan about is getting Luton in the Cup
When the only claret spilled is from a nostril on the pitch
When the suspected pulled muscle is in fact a stitch

That our main concern is seeing us fixed mid-table
Choosing not to walk away but knowing we are able
When the only thing wounded is your fragile pride
The only travesty of justice was their sixth goal was offside

While all there is to moan about is that pies are up ten pee
Football at our home ground is the only place to be

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Make or Break.

It’s been a terrible dire few seasons
For us Bolton fans to take
We have suffered two relegations
And a winding up order heartbreak
Our Chairman sadly passed away
Phill Gartside we’ll never forget
And we found ourselves new owners
That left many fans quite upset.

But without them our club wouldn’t exist
We have to be thankful for that
Yet some doubters were never quite satisfied
By saying they’re smelling a Rat!
“They’re only here to strip assets”
Which many fans seem to believe
But the majority seem to accept them
As they must have some tricks up their sleeve.

Promotion is the club’s main objective
This season is our make or break
We still can’t afford to buy players
And failure would be very hard to take
Yet were still paying premiership wages
To some who we couldn’t get rid!
They’ve still got a year on their contracts
But no one came in with a bid?

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One year of Jurgen Klopp

Since that start with Rubin Kazan
We’ve had one year of Klopp
Geggenpressen and a new main stand
And proven he’s more than a prop

There’s that four goal Mersey derby win
When the goals just wouldn’t stop
Magical against Dortmund
Like kids in a sweet shop

United in Europe sent packing
LVG soon left in a strop
Two major cup finals
Seville caught us on the hop

Nicely posed at the top end
With a bright and talented crop
Herr Jurgen bellows “Boom!”
As the current king of the Kop

© emdad rahman

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Givvus a Song

In the 70’s you used to hear them sing
“We are the Barclay Boot Boys”
Added atmosphere that away fans would bring
Tribal singing was one of footballs greatest joys

We got older, they changed the ground
We changed stands, we all moved around
All sat in a small, numbered plastic seat
It took something special to get us on our feet

Changes to the Barclay meant one corner was filled in
Ex-Barclay boys moved across, new songs were drilled in
“We’re the Snake Pit, we’re the Snake Pit over here”
In reply to the “We’re the Barclay over here”

It would go on for ages Barclay, Snake Pit, Barclay Snake Pit
Then came ‘our’ moment – right to reply, this was it!
‘Sing Up the Jarrold!’ And we’d give a shy little chorus
We’re the Jarrold over here, (yes it was really us)

Then things changed again, our stand got new sponsors
And now we’ll sing no more
It’s such a shame, we’d just warmed up
We were getting ready to roar

It took 12 years to get us to sing
Normally, it should be said, we wouldn’t boast
But, it’s a thing of the past, as we’re now

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Yes. It’s Good to Be Back Home Again.

By the time, the twenty two well honed,
Machine toned, part owned poseurs
Ran out on the green baize on Saturday afternoon
Out here in sunny South West Six.

We, who eagerly made the short journey,
From Victoria Station to Fulham Broadway
Sporting credit card paid for gaudy suntans
and even gaudier fake football shirts and designers labels

Had…ridiculed the mighty Iceland,
(As merely being a two for one frozen food specialist)
For having the gall
To thaw two, against Ingerland, during the recent farcical Euro’s.

Questioned the antics of What I’ve Seen (But won’t buy) Wenger
As being more than those of simply a canny football team manager,
More like a major shareholder, or company accountant
Reluctantly refusing to part with he what considers his own money?

Debated whether Antonio Conte,
Has a better syrup than Wayne Rooney?*
Who was his (Conte’s) tailor, and more importantly
Were those excellent gleaming teeth, all his own?

Discussed Pep Guardiola
Steadfastly refusing to use head and shoulders
At The Headhehad during his appointment there
Has the man simply no feelings or indeed a heart?

Touched on the Mata of Jose Mourinho
Yes him, and even more so…
What do we think of him now?
He’s with Man Ure, and manuring them?

Arriving at Stamford Bridge
(Yes our ground still retains its original moniker)
We watched the televised tail end
Of a digitally enhanced one all draw which failed to thrill.

That was I have to say about as exciting
As a re-heated pan of Scouse
Or a tureen of yesterday’s Jewish penicillin?*
Depending on personal preference and whereabouts you live?

While noting, was that little fellow
Sitting second row back in the Liverpool dug-out
Jurgen The Germans, exact double?
Despite being smaller in stature, than The Kloppite?

Perusing through our glossy match day programme
We noted we could in for a match of quite epic proportions
Should the resolute Burnley defence
Be opened up, and parted in waves for Moses playing out on our wing?

Yes it was good to be back, at my first home match
As you’ve most probably (from reading this) grasped?
Watching ‘The Football’ among the quick witted wags*
Always well up (even in the face of adversity) for having a laugh.

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Isn’t it good to be back home
Fresh green pitch on which to draw out our season
and maybe even win sometimes
Scan the ground looking for changes
Greet all the old faces and a few strangers
A new rotating big screen in the corner
to show highlights and goal replays
It’s as under-worked as their keeper
Reality bites, the mood gets deeper

The running track around the pitch
has been replaced by artificial turf
Not many players bought or sold
Just lots of talk on what they’re worth
It finishes nil-nil, team boo-d off
Bounce back quickly? Seems there’s no rush

Ladies toilet still don’t flush
Wes still hasn’t got a right foot (though we love him dearly)
New sponsors, new season
Nothing really changes
We face the usual Championship dangers
Its great to be back home

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When Conte dived in to the crowd
and that sort of thing’s allowed
In a London derby, when yer team has gone one up
I thought…he’s gone stark raving nuts
But at least it shows he’s one of us
Who – when a late winner hits – simply loses it like one does.

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Ronald Koeman’s Blue and White Army

We’re Ronald Koeman’s Army,
Our time is drawing nigh,
Our Faith has never wavered,
Our hopes are running high.

Tradition? We’ve tons of it!
Ambition? By the bucket!
Our name? It echoes round the world
From Nanking to Nantucket!

Our Stadium is Goodison,
A Grand Old Lady she!
Though somewhat on the run-down side,
We’ll never ever leave.

Nil Satis Nisi Optimum,
It’s on our Crest once more!
(And if you don’t know what that means,
Your Latin’s pretty poor.)

The teams we do not like include:
The ‘Pool, The Arse, Man U,
Apart from Leicester City,
All other teams in Blue.

We’re Ronnie’s Blueclad Hoplites,
From the lazy Mersey’s rive,
And we bid new converts welcome,
All you need do is believe.

Denys E. W. Jones

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We’re Back With Gary In The MoTD Studio.

At last the new season is here
When us punters are looking to cheer
All them overpriced signings
What cost more than we’ll earn in a lifetime
Mind you we’re guaranteed a bit of a giggle later this evening
When some fan of a last seasons Premiership winning team
Gives us more than a flash of his… bleating big ears!

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Source: https://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/2016-17-season/