A Love Poem to Saturdays
A Perspective from the Stands
A Love Poem to Saturdays
Fans as passionate as I’ve ever seen,
Baying for blood in support of their team,
All week builds to Saturday,
Dying to watch their players play.
Pint glasses clink and people chatter,
Diehards sharing incredible patter,
The build up is often the single best part,
Anything is possible before the match starts.
Hoping, dreaming, pleading, praying,
Regardless of who their team are playing,
Weather is awful, blowing a hoolie outside,
Still they’ll support their team with pride.
An hour before, the teams are out,
Everyone’s checking, who’s in and who’s out,
Why is the manager playing no forward,
Who’s our outlet, who’s going to score and,
Who’s going to tear apart the other team,
Score an absolute worldie, the best that we’ve seen?
It’s almost that time, pints getting downed,
Maybe just time for one more round?
Quick last trip to the toilet too,
Should have gone earlier, look at the queue!
All finished now and ready to go,
Zip up their coats and out into the flow,
Of others with hopes and dreams moving on by,
Glance up, not a glimmer of sun in the sky.
Pull the scarf tighter and follow the sound,
Of chants getting louder close to the ground,
Round the last corner and stood on its perch,
The glorious stadium, our Saturday church.
People buy programmes, others rush on,
Desperate to get to the source of the songs,
The buzz in the air, growing minute by minute,
We’re at the ground, now we’ve just got to get in it!
Queues stretch forever, everyone’s late,
Pushing on forwards to get in the gate.
Tickets are scanned and turnstiles rattle,
Moving on through being herded like cattle,
Finally through they find all their friends,
How’s it possible to need the toilet again?!?
Walk up the stairs and get the first glance of the grass,
Groundsman’s job done, the pitch looks class,
All around is a see of colour,
Folk of all ages, a child and his mother,
A pensioner, groups of teenagers too,
Big groups of men, but all part of one crew.
Seats are found and the chants start up,
Whether it’s in the league or the cup,
It really doesn’t matter, passions’s the same,
Everyone here for their love of the game.
Flags start to wave in support of the team,
A great sea of movement, a sight to be seen,
Standing and cheering, never wanting to stop,
The clock ticks over to 3 o’clock.
Finally time, players enter the stage,
Out of the tunnel, all on the same page,
The words of their managers sound in their ears,
All mixed up with the sound of the cheers.
Captains shake hands, the coin toss is done,
Formalities over, it’s time for the fun,
Of the match itself to finally start,
A fan two rows down silently crosses his heart.
The ref blows his whistle, they get under way,
Which of these titans will win it today?
Cagey start, players look nervous,
Trying to keep butterflies under the surface.
Other team’s attack, surely offside,
Are you blind linesman? Open your eyes!
Defender blocks it, out for a corner,
Pick up your game, can’t let them score here.
Ball comes over, it floats in the air,
Right onto the head of their dangerous player,
Ball finds its way to the back of the net,
Not even ten minutes ticked by yet.
The crowd are a mixture of silence and yells,
A boy standing over to the right hand side tells,
His pals they should have just stayed at the bar,
With Jeff and the gang, a better time far.
But no, they’re all here for the cause of the team,
Pull your finger out, don’t ruin the dream,
It’s started this badly can only get better,
Fans give up loads quite simply to get here.
Finally, passing begins to improve,
Opposition doubt when to stick, when to move,
Opening up spaces, chances appear,
The thought of not scoring gives them the fear.
Halftime comes, still down by one,
Plenty can happen before we’re all done,
Some stay in their seats to check other scores,
Others move downwards, they follow the hordes,
Looking to get something tasty to eat,
A pie or a bridie, a tasty wee treat.
Events so far are relived again,
Will we ever score today, if so when?
How did he miss when clean through on goal?
Would have scored if he hadn’t miskicked the ball!
The chants start up again, there still is belief,
Always be positive, don’t think of the grief,
That will come if we lose to our rivals today,
Players come out again ready to play.
Come on, COME ON! Now is the time,
Time to break down their defensive line,
Play like you want it, show them the passion,
That they show for you. Win in good fashion.
The striker breaks through but is quickly hacked down,
Shouts for a red card roar through the ground,
Ref shows a yellow, a chorus of boos,
Free-kick though, who will they choose,
To take it, it feels like they’ve got to score here,
The crowd noises hush, ready to cheer.
A pause then a strike that goes over the wall,
Surely too high, no it’s starting to fall,
All time slows down, the ball takes a spin,
Into the net, a perfect top bin.
Bodies are everywhere, punching the air,
Grabbing at others, rubbing their hair,
And cheering and singing and shouting, come on,
We’ve got one now, keep going, be strong.
The players are buoyed by the goal and the crowd,
Who keep them all going, singing as loud,
As they possibly can, but there’s not long left,
Eyes move on to the clock, to the ref.
Everyone standing, moving as one,
The player on the left starts to go on a run,
Beating one player, two, then cutting it back,
This really could be the final attack.
A player in the middle has found himself space,
Past the defender with a quick burst of pace,
Shouts for the ball, it gets whipped in,
This is it, one final chance for the win…
Some weeks he misses, some it goes in,
But that’s not the point, it’s more that we’ve been,
Here together, shared the joy and the pain,
Ready for next week, start all over again.