Poetry corner 3

From Satis? Fanzine, 1999:

The ghosts look down in sadness
As we drift from higher plains
They must recall their own careers
Where pride always remains

The tackles, passes, movement, goals
The roaring of the crowds
The sun, the rain, the wind and snow
Flat caps, and smoke in clouds

Gleaming trophies lifted high
oh-six, and thirty-three
Jimmy Dunne and Alec Troupe
Joe Mercer, Stein.........Dixie

Sleeves rolled up. passions high
when the going became tough
Giants who believed
Only the Best is Good Enough

And now we pray to lesser gods
with flash cars, agents, designer gear
Whose passion is for sound accounts
with cash to spare, no fear

They sit us down, they calm us down
they price the workers out
They sell us forty five quid tops
And dip their greedy snouts

And where is all the passion gone?
The love, the care? How come
They cannot understand it?
Nil Satis Nisi Optimum

Bodily harm - A Warning

What starts as a passionate cuddle can develop into serious damage to the body - if your wife has [a] significant fingernails, and [b] little control.

Blood will flow.

you have been warned.

What a load of tosh!

Just trundled upstairs to the home office after consuming a few cold ones watching Braga - Liverpool in the Europa.
Gawd, it was dreadful.
Lump it to Andy - the new Anfield mantra - was the order of the day for the last half hour after Carroll entered the fray. Unfortunately, he is a way short of match fitness and [hard as he tried] he made little difference apart from changing the tactics of the team.
Thought Joe Cole looked a sad shot pony this evening, and mystified as to why Mereiles was exiled to the right wing for the latter part of the game.
Mystifying tactics, no organisation or cohesion, the Reds were very poor.

Suspect that 40,000 screaming scousers [well, some of them will be scousers, anyway] can help Liverpool through in the second leg, but as the competition develops and the opposition becomes more taxing, Liverpool will have to work out how to score some away goals if they wish to progress much further.

Poetry Corner 2

An Ode to Goodison Park, written in May 2000.

She stands alone, aloft and proud
Amidst a sea of dross
Never moving, ever true to all who come inside
A place of love and worship, a place where lovers bide.

Her stands are strong, like towers
Above the terraced lines.
She ushers in her children, she drives their parents mad.
She welcomed my grandfather when he was but a lad.

Sam Chedzoy, Young the first,
Dixie, Mercer, Jones.
All had pause to look around in awe when first they came.
And later, in my childhood, too, others sought their fame.

Royston swerved, Alex soared,
And Gordon, caked in mud.
A hundred thousand woodies, a half a million teas.
The smoke would billow round her roofs. The roars, the groans, the pleas.

And now her paint is faded
She shudders in the cold.
They say it's time to leave her be, to try another field.
She's past her best, she's lost her looks. It's time for her to yield.

So build your concrete monster.
Build your village theme.
Pull the lady down, you fools, and make another start.
Take away the history, pull the lady down. Go on, then, break my heart.
You'll never build another,
When Goodison goes down.
You'll never, ever, recreate that lovely lady's soul,
Which lies upon the terrace, when many years ago
My father, just a boy of twelve, saw Dixie score THAT goal.

I've been to all the others
Those soulless, heartless holes.
Edifices made of sand, cement and no-one's love.
Surrounded by the open fields; roomy and forlorn.
No corner shop. No Chippy. No pub and no queues.
No push and shove.

A hundred years of history
A million billion dreams.
She holds them all within her arms, and that's where they will stay.
If you remove the lady, the dreams will fade away.
Little Bobby Collins, Labby - calm and in command;
Davie Hickson, locks akimbo, charging at the Street.

Pull her down.
Go on, then.
For hope, defeat.

Consistency - and Good Management

One of the measures of a Team is how well they respond to adversity, and whether their manager can pick them up after a defeat and get them on the right track straight away. I was intrigued to note that Manchester United suffered a second consecutive league defeat at Anfield this weekend and wondered which Clubs have gone the longest since losing two League games in a row.

Here ya go:

Everton 52
Arsenal 21
Fulham 20
Manchester City 19
Tottenham Hotspur 18
Chelsea 13
Newcastle United 10
Aston Villa 10
Liverpool 8
West Bromwich Albion 8
West Ham United 6
Bolton Wanderers 5
Wolverhampton Wanderers 5
Blackpool 3
Stoke City 2
Sunderland 1
Manchester United 0
Blackburn Rovers 0
Birmingham City 0
Wigan Athletic 0

Not that I'm biased, of course. Perish the very thought.
Just thought I'd mention it, though.

That is better.....

Very pleased to see that David Moyes switched Michel Arteta out wide at Newcastle - and the impact was sensational. Give the guy a little room and he will cut opposition defences to ribbons.
The centre of Midfield in the Premier League these days is virtually always crowded and cluttered: you win matches by getting the ball wide, and having talented players who can exploit width.
Simple.

Memo to David - keep him out wide please! With Phil Neville looking to have pulled a hamstring, Johnny Heitinga can slot into centre midfield and perform the same role, leaving Arteta and Osman wide.

The games are coming hard and fast at Birmingham City these days, with three in 8 days following a draining Wembley final. I expect an Everton win on Wednesday.

Memo to Leon Osman - very silly haircut. Let it grow properly like a grown up and stop this sillyness.

Memo to Marouine Fellaini - hope the operation goes well tomorrow and see you next season. And tell your dad to put a sock in it. ["Tais-toi, cher papa"]

Poetry Corner 1

I am your latest signing,
You won't believe the fee.
My Agent's in the corner.
He looks after me.

I'll give you fourteen Matches,
And then my groin I'll strain.
I'll bugger off on holiday,
And not be seen again.

I am your latest signing,
You won't believe the fee.
My Agent's in the corner.
He looks after me.

I'll tell the press you hate me,
I'll carp and I'll complain.
I'll tell my lovely agent
It's Italy or Spain.

I am your latest signing,
You won't believe the fee.
My Agent's in the corner.
He looks after me.

I am your latest nightmare
You won't receive a fee,
And still you'll pay a million pounds
to see the back of me.

I am ANOTHER signing
You won't believe the fee.
My agent's in the corner.
He looks after me.
It's just a case of Deja Vu
You all know the score.
Get rid of one plonker,
then go and sign one more.