<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=544066" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Woman, The Oranje And The 2010 World Cup</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In a bar in Amsterdam, <br>I realise how football consumes the soul.<br>Did I care yesterday whether there had been changes to the team? <br>Or whether one particular player was match fit? <br>No.<br>But, today I am swept along, <br>I feel the electricity in the air, <br>The hoping, the waiting, the tension, <br>The tangible excitement as the team walks out.<br>I grasp the momentary pride as the national anthem plays<br>And feel the lump in my throat as I see players join in and sing along.<br>I’m not even Dutch.<br>But, I’ve bought the shirt.<br>Then, as the game progresses I feel the air coarse back and forth, <br>As each spectator gasps, oohs and ahhs when free kicks go astray and shots on goal are deflected.<br>I watch fingers twitch, hands wring, and nails being bitten - all in the name of football.<br>Football, the beautiful game.<br>Football, the life giving ether that unites a nation and makes busses late.<br>Soon a hush descends, <br>As a player (who I don’t know the name of) “storms” his way through to the centre, <br>And slides the ball neatly under the goalkeeper.<br>Goal! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! <br>Time stops.<br>In this moment there is no war, no hunger, no pain, no hate in the world, <br>God is alive and he wears a number 11 shirt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Teedy+Dawn">Teedy Dawn</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=544066" data-title="A Woman, The Oranje And The 2010 World Cup de Teedy Dawn" data-description="In a bar in Amsterdam, I realise how football consumes the soul. Did I care yesterday whether there had been changes to the team? Or whether one particular player was match fit? No. But, today I am swept along, I feel the electricity in the ai..."></div> </div> </div>

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