1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 (21st. December, 1957)

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 It’s Pete’s first visit to the Valley,
Half time and Derek Ufton’s in hospital,
with rumours of steel pins in his shoulders.
“How do they do that?” –
“Not those shoulders again!”
We’re cold …miserable …10 men …1-2 down,
And regretting having to play them again in the cup,
And not too sure about bringing Pete.
Twenty eight minutes to go. It’s worse : 1-5
And there’s about as much chance of Peter coming again
As Trevor Edwards playing for Scotland.
There’s a blur of blue and white stripes,
Of red and one white stripe – that stripe is everywhere:-
Stuart Leary’s running – So’s Don Townsend,
Fred Lucas is heading the ball to our men,
“Buck” Ryan has stopped blasting it over the bar – Scores
And Johnny Summers is dropping his shoulder,
Turning and running like bull at the goal – He’s scoring.
“Who scored?” – “What’s the score?” – “Who knows the score?”
No-one knows the score.
Someone tells Pete, “Shut up. You’re over excited.” – Aren’t we all?
He knows the score : 4-5;
Willy Duff is playing a blinder. Now he’s not. Now he is.
Billy Kiernan? No it’s Ronnie White
Thundering his small frame up our wing.
Summers, right foot: 5 – 5;
Summers, right foot again – his fifth, our sixth.
They’ve got no time to equalise. – “We’ve won.”
Hewie : own goal: 6 – 6. We’re frenetic –
This is our Valley – our cup tie – our Cup Final.
Our seventh – “Buck” Ryan. – Our game – Our Christmas Day.
As one, the terraces empty thousands of us onto the pitch.
A watch hits me – So precious. A man’s weekly wage.
We’re cheering and chanting,
“We want Summers and Ryan and Charlton”,
They emerge in the stand, and Huddersfield’s players.
Speaking to us … We can’t hear a word.
“Hip, hip, hooray for Summers and Charlton, and Huddersfield.”
We sing and we whistle. We clap and we racket our rattles.
They are our heroes – our sportsmen – Our Team.
We’re replaying the game on the train,
In the pink and green Classified ‘papers,
In the News of the World and on Monday, the Herald.
Johnny Summers is a national hero (down our way).
Regenerates his career, inspired … Yet
“Buck” got the winner, overlooked, as though ill.
Trillions and Pete turned up for the F. A. Cup replay,
A dour and dogged display
And we won by the same margin of goals:
“Buck” Rogers : one – nil.


Stuart Butler reminded me about this game, in his opinion the greatest football match ever.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/charlton-athletic-7-huddersfield-town-6/