A Sunday League Player Forgets….

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The portly ex-pro who stands and points like a conductor
Your dodgy calf and what the hell is a strained abductor?
The through ball that runs tantalisingly over the dead ball line
The club disciplinary appearance – two weeks out or a fine

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The stinging irritation of the too small, borrowed boot blister
Blowing that chance in front of your team mate’s pretty sister
Uneven pitches that doubled as grazing paddocks for cows
The coach screaming – “get in there you big girl’s blouse”

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The pre-match warm up of blazing the ball over the bar
Bouncing it off the windscreen of the referee’s new car
Surprising the top side to a fighting one all draw
Next week at the bottom placed, your defence shipping four

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The hole in the side netting designed to let in contention
Reading the local rag on Monday to see if you got a mention
The bent sideline marked in pale lime as if by a drunk
Tearing down the undulating wing, feeling the hammy go “clunk”

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The usual endless argument about lining up the wall
Unable to master simple geometry – player, post, ball
The one in every team who believes they are still world class
Trying to beat five in row, ignoring the straightforward pass

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Deep in the bag, unwashed socks, toes hardened into rocks
Surrounded by much thicker waists, much thinner locks
How much time just standing with hands on hips
At the crucial last minute your balancing foot slips

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 The inevitable late concession and triumphant roar
The away side banging and slapping your dressing room door
Not every match could ever have been a highlights reel
Much of what happened my memory rightly refuses to reveal

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Each indignity and slight, each wet Tuesday night defeat
Pales into the past whenever the old crocks happen to meet
To remember that time, when we were desperate to win
And for once, your long range, selfish shot actually went in.


Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/a-sunday-league-player-forgets/