1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Cheeky boy’s smile wider
than ever before when
he stroked that free-kick
onto JT’s bonce against Brazil.
Still the old doubts remained:
only a friendly; can he still do it
when it matters?
Answer: emphatic –
two magical, sublime passes
caressed into the area;
keeper rooted to his line,
not sure whether to stick or bust.
Calm finishes the icing
on the pearly cake
of the wide boy,
the diamond geezer
who’s clearly still got
what it takes at thirty two.
Sir Quiff’s “we’ll see” so unnecessary
as Becks is back
and answering his critics
on the pitch.



The only pass I’ve seen to rival Beckham’s for the second goal was one by Glenn Hoddle in his final season as player manager for Swindon – well I had to get the Town in somewhere?!

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/sublime/