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The greatest goal of all time

I've seen lots of great goals
some to take your breath away
I recall one from many years ago
that has stayed with me to this day.
The player had the ball at his feet
cutting through the defence like a sword
beating player after player with ease
the whole ground stood to applaud.
I've witnessed individual goals
and some created by most of the team
but the greatest one I've ever seen?
was by myself in a beautiful lucid dream.
I was playing for England against Brazil
the crowd was roaring out my name
it was the World Cup Final at Wembley
two all with a minute left in the game.
I then tackled and robbed Pele of the ball
and I went on a long and mazy run
it ended with me hitting home the winner
'What a goal' read the headline in the Sun.
I lifted up the Jules Rimet Trophy
got carried round the pitch shoulder high
but when Pele said my goal was the greatest
I just fell to my muddy knees to cry.
It's been said that dreams can come true
and that's a saying I know to be right
because that 'dream' goal I scored at Wembley
was voted best ever goal on the telly last night!

poem by Kevin Halls
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The Football Fan

They love their football team
their loyalty is never in doubt
they rarely ever miss a match
from the stands they scream and shout.
Even when the teams playing poor
and their favourite player is off key
that will never stop them from going
as the ground is where they want to be.
Football is always on their minds
they think about it night and day
non football fans think they must be crazy
watching men kicking a ball home and away.
Relationships can become strained and tense
as football takes the leading role
partners can become irritable and even jealous
when the fan talks for hours about a wonder goal.
The fan even dreams of football in their sleep
shouting out and butting the pillow with their head
they jump up and down as if they've scored a goal
and kick their partner out of the bed.
Yes the football fan is a breed apart
slightly eccentric and a thick skinned soul
when all that matters to them in life
is seeing their favourite player score a winning goal!

poem by Kevin Halls
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God's miracle

Say not
That this is just a game.
As I watch the little boys play
After a heavy school day
He goes straight to the field,
And there he is in his element
Raising up the dust
As he scores that goal.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As the boys make their football
Collecting plastic from the dumps
And cutting ropes that were washing lines.
As the boys create a pitch
Or just play on the road,
They take sticks or stones
And they build a goal.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As these boys return home at night
Return to be whipped after their delight
The ball will be smashed,
The plastic seperated from the rope
And the field will be taken.
To the farmers and goat herders it will be given
But the boys collect themselves, with undying determination
And they go back to playing football.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As the scout sees that young player
And he is sent to England
Maybe he will play with Man U or maybe Inter.
He sees a world far from home
From sunny rays to raindropp beats.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As that girl plays on the boy's team
She raises rumours,
As people see her and say she will not marry
She drops her bucket of water and goes to be goalie.
The boys boo and make fun of her
But they know she is a very good player.
And she is an example to other little girls
Who long for that ball and not for pearls.

Say not
That this is just a game.
As old men sleep in bars
Just so they can see that match
Of their favourite English team,
And when they reach home their angry wives will ask
'What will that team give you if they win? '
The men will go to bed silent
But their minds know the answer
'They will give me pride, and honour.'

Say not
That this is just a game.
As the world cup starts
Linking whole nations.
And in that stadium
There is no such thing as rich, poor, colour or religion.
Because everybody will mix
As they go to cheer their country,
And their players from Eto'o to Messi.

Say not
That this is just a game.
When that player has the ball
At the box for a penalty
And it is the finale
When all hearts will stop.
And all breaths are held.
And when that goal is scored,
Each cheer is louder than the next
Every person with smiles so big
Both in the stands and on the field
There stand a connection of confusion,
But also true happiness.

Say not
That this is just a game.
When the team will hold that cup
And the whole country becomes a champion
Every man, every woman, and all the children.
It's name goes down in history
And it will be known as a cup holding nation.

Say not
That this is just a game.
No, this is football.
This is God's miracle,
To that little boy and girl
To that man who knows the answer
To not one but all,
And to you and me as well

Say not
That this is just a game.
For this, this is football!

poem by Mariam de Haan
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My soccer team

I see men standing next to each other
in a line
and they wear yellow and green.

The national anthem plays
and its like nobody honours it
or know the words,
but maybe they are caught by the great moment.

The whistle blows
and the ball is kicked to and fro
and there are men attacking
and others that defend.

The goal is open
and the ball flies past in a wide arc
and it’s as if my team
can’t score any goal.

The opponents have the ball
and shoot it right over the field
and one of their front players
hits it with his head.

The ball flies twisting
and with a swing in the air
and is accurately aimed at the goal

As from the ground
the goalie rises
and the onlookers are silent
and just before it’s too late,
the ball is caught
and the crowd cheers.

It is as if something sweeps into
the men with yellow and green
and they play perfectly,
like only a good team can.

There’s passion to win
and the ball is passed
from player to player
and a mighty kick,
launches it accurately past the goalkeeper
to get entangled in the net.

The crowd cheers and go nuts
and vuvezelas are blowing
and flags are swept to and thro
and the players grab each other.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Greatest

Little boy, in a baseball hat stands in the field with his ball and bat.
Says, "I am the greatest player of them all" puts his bat on his shoulder and he tosses up his ball.
And the ball goes up and the ball comes down swings his bat all the way around
The world so still you can hear the sound, the baseball falls to the ground.
Now the little boy doesn't say a word, picks up his ball, he is undeterred.
Says, "I am the greatest there has ever been" and he grits his teeth and he tries it again.
And the ball goes up and the ball comes down swings his bat all the way around
The world so still you can hear the sound, the baseball falls to the ground.
He makes no excuses, he shows no fear, he just closes his eyes and listens to the cheers.
Little boy, he adjusts his hat, picks up his ball, stares at his bat
Says,"I am the greatest, the game is on the line" and he gives his all one last time.
And the ball goes up and the moon so bright, swings his bat with all his might
The world's as still, as still can be, the baseball falls and that's strike three.
Now it's suppertime and his momma calls, little boy starts home with his bat and ball.
Says, "I am the greatest, that is a fact, but even I didn't know I could pitch like that!"
Says, "I am the greatest,that is understood, but even I didn't know I could pitch that good!

song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My love is like a Soccer Game....

My love is Like a Soccer Game

the field is my life I am the player

the ball is my heart and the goal

is you, ill keep hitting the keeper

till the ball gets closer to you...

^^..

poem by Henric Kristoffer Miranda
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29th February 2012

They all lost faith in the game,
And the hope of winning the game was over!
But, i never gave up;
And i kept on pushing harder towards the goal post;
For in this life,
Nothing is impossible and, impossible is nothing! !

Forward ever!
Without looking at the right side or the left side;
So, i moved forward and kicked the ball into the net!
Then, i scored the goal to win the match.
Yes, we won the game and the Cup was given to me because,
I was the captain of the team.

It was 29th February 2012,
And we won the game at the very lasrt minute to end the game!
Yes, the very time that everybody lost hope in the game;
But i never gave up my hope and, i scored the winning goal! !

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Eleven rules of football

I took my little boy
to a nearby football pitch
He said he was tired
of playing hide and seek
He now wanted a football
to play around and kick

As he clutched my hand
I spoke to him
and tried to make him understand
the eleven rules of football
taking into consideration
that he was quite small

Now rule number one
Football is made of eleven strong men
When one or two are naughty
you may still get away
with playing nine or ten

Rule number two
When a member of your crew
hits the ball into the net
A goal is scored
that I can place a bet
For I am very sure

Rule number three
The maximum number of players
you can substitute is three
It does not cost a dime
It is totally free

Rule number four
There are rules you must comply with
When a team commits an offense
named a foul
before the game can commence
A small advantage has to be given
to the otherside

Rule number five
A freekick
is given after a foul
Sometimes awarded after
unnecessary dives

Rule number six
When you are shown a card that is yellow
Its time for your temper to mellow
or you will get the referee quite mad
and he will dismiss you with a red card

Rule number seven
A penality is like heaven
It is awarded
when a player breaks the rule
maybe by using his hand as a tool
to play the ball inside the penalty box
its time for him to go back to school

Rule number eight
A thrownin
Is when the ball is kicked out of the field
It's one of footballs favorite sins

Rule number nine
Offside is
When you are the only one running
alone to score a winning goal
you must hesitate
till you see a single soul

Rule number ten
A game lasts
for ninety minutes
You are beat
When your team has less goals than the other
That is when you must admit defeat

Rule number eleven
when your team is losing
you have to sing something amusing
saying
All we want is a goal
While we are dressed in coloured charcoal

Now my little boy
I said
These are the eleven rules of football
lets go and practise inside the sports hall

Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Best Of The Best

Belfast born with magic feet,
Playing ball on cobbled street.
Something with him dwelt,
Something special he felt.

Spotted playing about,
By a Man'U scout.
Telegram was sent,
'I think I've found a genius', it went.

Fifteen years of age,
On the threshold of the national stage.
On his seventeenth birthday,
For the first team, he was to play.

Rave after rave review,
Of his debut.
Slight of frame,
Didn't hinder his game.
Flashes of his lightening speed,
Yes with the ball, at times greed.
The crowds he would enthral,
Extraordinary feats with the ball.

For years he excited terraces,
Putting smiles on faces.
He left a lasting legacy,
'Best player in the World', said no other than‘Pele'.

01/09/92 GUY LIPMORE.

poem by Guy Lipmore
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Red demon

I want to be from there
I want to live there when the sun rise
I want to spend my life there
In the city of your imagine
In the city of your dreaming
In Manchester

No way

It was just a dream
But its possible to Manchester united be my dreaming team
Oh….yeah
This word I dream it more than once
In each match must to be a loser
But not for red demon

With Sir Alex Ferguson there is no chance only to win
My life, soul.and my heart all for red demon
They become cheep when I took a glimpse of the soccer eyes
If you look to Sir Alex Ferguson eyes
You will be relaxed to victor the match

Lets teach Chelsea how the win comes easily when we play against them
Chelsea is nothing without Drogba or who was fasting the goal in the world cup
Chelsea like the lady without a baby without them
Lets told them no champions league again
The champions for red demon only…..
There's no team in the world can face them
Or, to stop in them face
All the soccer there have an ambitious to win as stone

If you want a goal just pass the ball to golden boy or the player of the show
They're ready to do that all the time
If you want the ball next to the goal just mention to Giggs that
If you don’t wont any goal against you just give Van dar sar attention before the match
If you want more show just give Ronaldo a signal to do that
I hope to see red demon flying up there in the sky
I wish to see you a moon in the moonlit

poem by Khadija Shaker
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Let Me Play Football

Let me run on the field
Of a crowded football stadium,
The ball is sticky to my leg,
Let the opponent’s defenders to come.

Let me head the ball with full force,
When my team player does a corner kick,
I want to place the ball in opponent’s net,
That’s an honour more than climbing Everest’s pick.

Let my team’s footballers hug me,
When I score a world class goal,
And I shall preserve my supporters’ celebration
Forever in my golden soul.

poem by Biswajit Ganguly
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A Boyhood Sporting Hero

Most boys have their sporting heroes and mine played Gaelic Football
The mighty Mick O Connell the greatest I recall
But Mick O played for Kerry and Cork my favourite team
And to play football good as him was many school boy's dream

The finest Gaelic Footballer that I have ever seen
Not rough or hard in any way but classical and clean
And though that was many years ago and far so far away
Of great player from Valentia the memory with me stay.

When Mick O's playing days were over he faded from the scene
But memories of his playing feats will remain evergreen
His high fielding and kicking and his passing of the ball
The complete Gaelic Footballer the greatest of them all.

He never hogged the limelight he seemed so quiet and shy
But he was sporting hero to many school going boy
And even many who did not support Kerry will still tell you today
That Valentia's Mick O Connell was the best they had seen play.

My hero played for Kerry and Cork my favourite team
And to be good a player as him an early teenage dream
But as a Gaelic Footballer I never made the grade
And I won't be remembered for any game I played.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Ultimate Hamburger

The great Hamburg football team
is to lay out a cemetery for supporters
next to its pitch – in the form, of course,
of another pitch whose grass
is eternal, whose goal is the final goal…

and then, the appropriate memorial inscriptions:
‘Heinz – the Referee blew time on December 15…’
‘At the end of the day, Gunther,
that’s what it’s all about…’

‘Joshi – scored his final goal on July 3…’
‘Fritz – took an early bath on October 14…’
‘Rikki – good to the last kick…’

‘ Alfi – now shouting in the terraces
on the other side…’
‘ Lorenz – always on God’s first team…’

‘Tomi – called to the great away fixture
in the sky on March 27…’
‘Birgit – my beloved home supporter…’

‘Denni – always in training…’
‘ Klaus – hung up his boots on May 15…’
‘Kurt – a life without a penalty…’

‘Bart – his final match drew to a close…’
‘My beloved Else – a Hamburger
tasty to the last bite…’
‘Reinhold – he played the field until the last…’

I think we’ll blow the whistle on this one now.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Woman, The Oranje And The 2010 World Cup

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 air,
The hoping, the waiting, the tension,
The tangible excitement as the team walks out.
I grasp the momentary pride as the national anthem plays
And feel the lump in my throat as I see players join in and sing along.
I’m not even Dutch.
But, I’ve bought the shirt.
Then, as the game progresses I feel the air coarse back and forth,
As each spectator gasps, oohs and ahhs when free kicks go astray and shots on goal are deflected.
I watch fingers twitch, hands wring, and nails being bitten - all in the name of football.
Football, the beautiful game.
Football, the life giving ether that unites a nation and makes busses late.
Soon a hush descends,
As a player (who I don’t know the name of) “storms” his way through to the centre,
And slides the ball neatly under the goalkeeper.
Goal! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Time stops.
In this moment there is no war, no hunger, no pain, no hate in the world,
God is alive and he wears a number 11 shirt.

poem by Teedy Dawn
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The Young Fellow Next Door

The young fellow next door barracks for Hawthorn
And after school he kicks the egg shaped ball
He wants to be as great as Jason Dunstall
And that his name football historians will recall.

He wants to don the brown and gold of Hawthorn
And star in a grand final winning team
But the road ahead won't be easy for Tony
If one day he's to realize his dream.

If he is to be a great footy player
He must train hard for twelve months every year
He must impress the coaches and football scouts
And stay well clear of narcotics and beer.

The young fellow next door says he'll be famous
And that for the Hawthorn Football club he'll Play
And that he will be the talk of all Australia
Ten years from now on the grand final day.

A nine year old with big dreams is the schoolboy Tony
He says i'll be an Aussie sporting great
And i will lead Hawthorn back to glory
And the footy fans my name will celebrate.

On every street there is one like young Tony
Who has this dream of an enduring fame
Who is the hero of the great Grand Final
And kicks the famous goal that wins the game.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The night before the football match

It's the night before the Saturday match
will the team let us down again?
Got a good feeling we'll be smiling
instead of leaving full of pain.
Hope our new striker gets a goal
and our defence is like a brick wall
we totally outplay the opposition
with lots of goals and superb football.
But then again we've sold players
and we haven't won a game yet
and the team we're playing are unbeaten
so I won't be putting money on us in a bet.
Anyway can't wait for Saturday to come
and to go and cheer the team on to victory
and even if our team gets a hammering
there's no other place I'd rather be!

poem by Kevin Halls
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World, Wise head & Football

World on leg, world by leg, world in leg not hand

Shooting, moving, going

From to from, from to from, from to from

World on head, world by head, world in head not hand

Only two-operator touch world by their all

Heading, shooting or kicking moving, going from to from

We feel exciting with love or loveless

We total world exclaim goal, goal and goal

I believe immensely

Football is world

Head of wise man

No doubt consequence

Enough similarity has between wise man & football

Player's are playing football by leg or head

Exactly society is a stadium

Where people are playing or acting game

By adoration or abhor like by head or foot to wise man

And seer next & next generation

Wise man get adoration or abhor from society.

Shooting, moving, going

From to from, from to from, from to from

When he will go to eternal from this cosmic

Then we will shout that he was a good man.

World on leg, world by leg, world in leg not hand

Shooting or kicking, moving, going

From to from, from to from, from to from

We total world exclaim

Goal, goal, goal.

poem by Mashiur Rahman
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True Action!

We are laborer,
Absolutely Pure laborer!
Then why, suffering, complaining,
On own stresses, about unnecessary sweats and toiling!

Work that must be inspired,
Where worker should never come to tire.
No exhaustion but the enjoyment while working,
And true nobler are enthusiastic about goal pursuing!

True Goal is not achieving the goal,
But striving to reach the goal is the real goal.
One should keep the goal to shoot at the highest emplacement,
So that one can enjoy his whole life without getting retirement.

Goal should be so high so that none can reach,
Why should ideal be kept so high so that it can’t be reached?
Striving to reach the highest is the moment where we grow,
Reaching the goal is the end of the goal, hence it will simply blow.

poem by Warner Keisham
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Liberia Plays Soccer

When Beckham kicks the ball on a
soccer pitch in England, it
breaks through the opponent’s

defense and slams into the goal post.
It then continues over the heads of the
cheering spectators, over miles of oceans

and seas, and countries, and lands at the
feet of soccer-crazed Liberian men, who
immediately kick that same ball, again and

again, into that very goal post, in their living
rooms, in posh sport lounges, in hot, smelly
video clubs, around the ataye* tables, on the

buses, on the sidewalks. They keep kicking
that ball until somewhere in Europe, Drogba
kicks a different ball, into another goal post.

Then, Drogba’s ball comes to Liberia and the kicking begins anew.

*ataye – a hot drink, popular with Liberian males. The ataye tables have grown into informal political and social forums.

poem by Charlina Daitouah Smith
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Interview with Manuel Negrete

What is the most beautiful goal?
A goal with friends; a goal that is itself a goal;
A goal that is a beginning, and a goal that ends.
What is the most perfect fulcrum?
The human body where it casts a shadow.

When will the earth shift on its axis?
When the moon becomes a meteorite
And imagination lifts the heart.
Did the Azteca fly up from its foundation?
All of Mexico emerged from the ground.

Is Quetzalcoatl a soccer god?
He plays with the morning star.
What do you do with your time?
I live in the blinding moment.

poem by Salvatore Ala
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Just Some Names Of Sports Legends

The G A A fans have their own heroes of for to sing
In Gaelic Football Mick O Connell in Hurling Christy Ring
In Boxing Sugar Ray Robinson knew of Worldwide fame
And Babe Ruth's lives on as a great Baseball name
In Soccer Maradona and Pele and George Best
Were never found to be wanting when put to the test
And in Tennis Maureen Connolly the legendary Little Mo
The greatest of her time six decades ago
The A F L fans have Leigh Matthews for to talk about
Their game's greatest player though that not without doubt
And golf has Norman, Nicklaus, Woods, Watson and Gary Player
Of their game's major honours they took the lion's share
And athletics have Nurmi and Zatopek, Owens and Flo Jo
Legends that most sports fans of surely would know.

poem by Francis Duggan
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