Monday, 23 April 2012

Centre Forward - a poem

(As Bromley FC head for their final game of the 2011-12 football season, I thought the time was right to celebrate the difference one player has made to our year - the Supporters' Player of the Season - Hakeem Araba)


On the stand, behind the goal, I found a whole new world;
a different way of talking, of hopes and fears unfurled.

At first I played a solo game, pretending that I saw
the offside moves, the passing game, the point of four-two-four.
My terms of reference didn’t match your language way back then;
I didn’t have the knowledge, or the genes and balls of men.

But, gradually, I came to know that football meant much more
than slip-ups in the goal-mouth, when the favourites failed to score.
And then, it seems, I underwent a wholescale transformation
as slowly, I began to see what gained your admiration.

And now each week I stand with you and others as we roar
our faith and expectation that he will deliver more;
that stunning centre forward who, all thighs, and white-toothed grin,
can turn the game from sure defeat to
unexpected win. 



15 comments:

Baglady said...

You didn't mention the magnificent thighs (otherwise very good).

Susan Cooper said...

I love the prose. You are a woman, of indeed, many talents. Thanks for sharing all that you do. I so enjoy reading your work. :-), Susan Cooper

Peaceful Warrior said...

So glad that finally came to love the beautiful game..lol

An interesting set of rhymes and very well executed.

Nice post..

Hugs.

Matt Inwood said...

Ah, I liked that and poetry was the perfect form to express it. A friend once told me that the sight of Sol Campbell's thighs up close from the touch line was like watching two giant oak tree trunks wobbling in front of him. It's the closest he's come to a homo-erotic state in all the years I've known him.

Zahir Shah said...

I liked it so much, poetry almost got erased from my reading list long ago, but i guess now and then i ll get to read some simple beautiful prose on blog world. :)

Alan Peppercorn said...

That's fantastic and perfectly captures the thin thread on which our (perceived) success rests!

The Idiot Gardener said...

I only know rude football rhymes!

I am impressed, however, that you support Bromley!

Olga said...

I felt really moved reading your powerful poem.

The Elephant's Child said...

Not a football fan (any flavour football) but was moved by this. Thank you.

Pat said...

My Dad took me to watch his team - Butrnley - and never quite forgave me for cheering when the opposing team scored.
Nobody told me they changed ends at half time.
Sorry Dad.

Rajnish said...

beautiful...
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Dicky Carter said...

Lovely piece of poetry. I know a few terrace songs you know... but none as nice as this post.

Blissed-Out Grandma said...

Isn't it fun to grow to love a sport when you're a full-grown woman who didn't experience competition or fandom as a child? Nice!

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Bill Dameron said...

"I didn't have the genes or balls of men."

Love it Sharon. A poem about transformation.