Feet, coloured yellow –

Move at speed –

Shades of green

Adorn the ground

 

Billboards changing –

Take your seats –

We’re bouncing in the round

 

Seagulls take up

Residence

And coach on high alert

 

Dropping veterans

For youth to build –

Fans think it will subvert

 

What once was strong,

Like Coventry –

He was primed

To out-perform

 

Ah, the good old days,

They held it high

But now, they’re out of form

 

The President –

Encompassing –

A culture that is rife

 

With a cold (or is it flu?)

That’s prevalent –

Ubiquitous, despite

 

The ability to cheer

To love what angers some

To shout and yell in support

Of the mid-fielder, on the run

 

He carries the ball down the spine

The team-mate, to his left, is clear

The handpass is perfection –

A hip-and-shoulder, and he’s near

 

The man who carries everyone’s

Expectations in his foot

He drops the ball, he kicks it straight

His goal, the scene-stealer, to boot

 

The scene gives of

Fanaticism –

Objective over-ruled –

Zealousness a special treat –

Tastes like a helix – like a spool

 

Beyond the backdoor arguments

Of avarice and spite

The paper-pushers run an industry

Constructed from the contract’s might

 

The microphone – required

It’s written on the page –

Held out to reach a sonic pitch

That keeps the player sage

 

Back ‘on deck’ and it is tight

Precision wins the game

The difference between

Right and wrong is

Written in a name

 

Will he go on to stardom?

Does he even have a say?

Perhaps! But if, and only if

Free agency’s the way

 

The crowd erupts – the game is won

The team’s theme song must be played

Everyone’s a winner as

The dollar sign’s displayed.