Truth is stranger than friction
The joy of truth is
that it can be funnier,
crazier,
than fiction.
On September 16 the referee
suspended a football match
following complaints by the spectators
that the players on both
multicultural or should I say
multiracial teams
had been racially abusing each other
with terms like 'black bastard'
a player corrected this, explaining
that it wasn't racial abuse but
'sledging' - to put off
players from kicking penalties etc.:
'Sure it was abuse, but there
was no racism'
well that's alright then, after all
it's a multi, er, cultural society
and the tackling was clean and
good sportsmanship sorta
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Football Farce
Football managers and players should hang their heads in shame,
For what they've done to our traditional football game.
Now sportsmen in the game are a dying breed,
with managers and players getting rich with greed.
Sportsmen! They are not, for they will cheat and connive,
winning free kicks and penalties by taking a dive.
Pushing, pulling and shirts being torn,
Punching and swearing are now the norm.
After a night on drugs and all night boozing,
players get violent if their team is loosing.
The managers aren't any better when staring at defeat,
encouraging players to go out there and cheat.
If the players do wrong and it's plain to see,
the managers will argue and blame the referee.
And now referees are getting in on this shameful act,
with the top premier clubs they've now formed a pact.
If the top club is loosing, then with the last kick of the ball,
the referee gives them a penalty for no good reason at all.
If that doesn't help they commit another dreadful crime,
by giving them another chance by adding on extra time.
The F.A. watches these games and don't seem to mind,
What's up with them? are they totally blind?
The F.A. should now hang their heads in shame,
for they have let money and greed ruin our football game.
That's why I have finally decided to call it a day,
Football ain't getting anymore of my hard earnt pay.
By
Alan Weston
© Copyright Reserved 2007
poem by Alan Weston
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The Biography Of football taken for Final Worldcup
I am a football,
Soccer is what the people of FIFA call.
Kicking me here and there,
Trying to play the match very fair.
I saw what Zidane did!
And then feeling shocked tried to hid.
Zidane gave Materazzi a header,
Which was like the short of Federer.
Materazzi felt he was in hell,
And then came the whistle from the referee like a bell.
Referee gave Zidane a red card,
Then Zidane sat outside the ground like a guard.
Because of this Italy won the world cup,
And the France players felt like dying in a tub!
source: self composed
[email protected]
poem by Sabari Saran
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A Memory From 85
I've always thought that Gaelic Football was a grand and a sporting game
But after witnessing a match between Rockchapel and Kiskeam
Played in the Gaelic Playing Field half a mile from Knocknagree
The uglier side of Gaelic Football was all brought home to me.
'Twas Duhallow B league final on an evening in July
And with little to enthuse about for a neutral such as I
A scrappy game of football and the language it was crude
And both sets of supporters were mouthing loud and rude
And I watched on in silence and I could not feel amused
When a linesman by an old Rockchapel mentor was abused
And one could feel the tension rising and things were boiling to a brawl
And 'twould not be a night for sportsmanship or classical football.
And worse was to come later and an ugly sight to see
A young Rockchapel player assaulting the referee
And when he received his marching orders and refused to leave the field
The ref to intimidation rightly refused to yield.
The ref blew the final whistle with Kiskeam to the fore
They had won a tarnished victory by a mere five points to four
In a brutal game of football they'd survived a gruelling test
But at kicking and at mouthing they had come out second best.
'Twas a sad night for Gaelic Football and Duhallow's night of shame
And I'm not pardoning Kiskeam they must partly share the blame
But for a cup and set of medals and with little else at stake
For their attitude and thuggery Rockchapel took the cake.
The ref's motor van was interfered with and a door lock it got broke
By a wild man from Rockchapel a half crazed gray haired bloke
And this rowdy behaviour over a game of ball
It's no wonder I felt sickened fairly sickened by it all.
I've always thought that Gaelic football did not have an ugly side
That the players and spectators on their native game took pride
But now I know quite different and I see things differently
Since that Duhallow local derby game that was played in Knocknagree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Questions About Football
why are there games only on Mondays and Sundays?
where do the pro teams get all the money to pay the players?
can the jerseys be more creative?
are the player’s families mad that they have to play on holidays like Thanksgiving?
are there really dead bodies under Tennessee’s football field?
is Brady the best QB in the NFL right now?
how is Ray Lewis so hard-hitting?
do you want to be in the pro’s some day?
would you want to be tackled by Ray Lewis?
it is the end of the playoffs, what will the NFL do now?
why is Favre still playing?
why are high school football ref’s so bad?
can’t we afford descent ones?
poem by Sawyer Rothmann
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Player's Ball
Here's a little somethin for the players out there hustlin
Gettin down for theirs
From east pointe, college park, decatur, devries...
My man, the scene was so thick
Lowriders, seventy-seven sevilles
El do's, nuttin but them 'llacs
All the players (deporte in the house) all the hustlers
I'm talkin bout a black man heaven here
Youknowhati'msayin? yeah
*singing*
Cadillacs are comin, from everywhere (yeahhh)
Limbo boppin good cause love is in the air
To all you players and you pimps smoke out and have a ball
And if your hoe is actin crazy --
-- put her on the wall
Now now now everybody's dancin and just feelin right
I see all of you players got yourselves laid in on ice
I hope when all y'all dance is over, can i get onn, yeah
My kids'll have a story, that still be told, whoooa, about
All the players came, from far and wide
Wearin afros and braids, kickin them gangster rides
Now i'm here to tell ya, there's a better day
When the player ball is happenin, all day eryday
song performed by by Outkast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Know The Game Of Life
A rich man built up a stadium,
In a ground to play every game.
On the day of inauguration,
There was a big congregation.
It was a show of football match
A pleasure for them to watch
Both the teams played well
Kicking forward the football.
The rich man's father,
An illiterate old villager,
Who was the chief guest
Kept his face in utter disgust.
At the end he asked his son
Why each player wasn't given
A ball each to avoid their run
Between goals for that ball one?
A sorry figure, his son kept
At his father, a man ignorant
Of the rules of the game,
What a shame to his name?
Yes, knowledge is essential
For anyone to enjoy the thrill
Lest, in the game of life, he will
Be like a two legged bull.
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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The F.A.Cup Final
When I was a kid it was a big day
all the family around the television
I'd watch hours of the build up
seeing how both teams got there.
My father telling my mum the rules
my sister pretending she was interested
even the dog barked at the screen.
I'd kick every ball during the match
dreaming of being there one day
this was the best day of the year.
After the match I'd be over the fields
I'd pretend i was one of the players
who had played that day at Wembley.
The F.A.Cup Final was a great occasion
the biggest day in the football season
the best cup competition in the world!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Young David The Under Fourteen
With the local football club he plays under fourteen
In their football colours the black, brown and green
He dreams in the A F L he will star one day
Against Australia's finest he will be picked to play.
Everytime I see young David he's with the egg shaped ball
Playing by himself or with other boys in the park for his age he is tall
His dream is to play as number one ruckman for his favourite team Geelong
Enjoying a great victory as he sings the Club song.
Most boys of his age have a wish or a dream
To win a gold medal or play with a top football team
But not all dreams do come true everyone can't know fame
Still it is nice to dream of great things just the same.
He is the top ruckboy in his football team
And as a player of promise he knows local esteem
But few good juvenile players into great players grow
And young David he still has a long way to go.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Baseball players are smarter than football players. How often do you see a baseball team penalized for too many players on the field
quote by Jim Boulton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Ritual of Victory
Out on the playing arena long about now,
Two teams are competing as if they are on trial.
Cheerleaders are entertaining with a new style,
Holding the attention of the crowd for a while.
The fans are cheering as loud as they can.
The players are inspired by the music of the band.
The scoreboard lights seem to blink at will,
The victor's final score is bright and still.
Shortly after the game, they'll all come in,
The players tuckered out, the coach with a grin.
Proud of their victory, they'll scarcely wait,
Specially if the post game ceremony is late.
It may be football or soccer or any other game,
A ritual of victory is basically the same.
The players huddle together and in unison say grace.
Wonder who is standing in my old place.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Sonnet: On Indian Cricket
The One-Day Cricket is live telecast;
'Tis India versus another great team;
The clime is good and pitch really fast;
The Indian batsmen now face bowler's seam.
The spectators hold placards and make noise;
Most fellowmen are glued to T.V-sets;
A 'sixer' makes all country-men rejoice;
The Indian players were good at the 'nets'!
Most unpredictable team are our boys;
Their team-work's seen once in a way, by luck;
Yet, players score a century with poise;
Some famous players come home with a 'duck'.
And still, they break records so very oft;
Their cricket is an entertaining art.
Dedicated to the Indian Cricket Players
30-9-2000 by Dr John Celes
********
poem by John Celes
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The only football players in my time were fellows who really loved to play football. They were not in it for the money. There wasn't much money there. They would have played football for nothing.
quote by Red Grange
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Erb
Do you know 'Erb? Now, there's a dinkum sport.
If football's on your mind, why, 'Erb's the sort
To put you wise. It's his whole end and' aim.
Keen? He's as keen as mustard on the game.
Football is in his blood. He thinks an' schemes
All through the season; talks of it an' dreams
An' eats an' sleeps with football on his mind.
Yes: 'Erb's a sport - the reel whole-hearted kind.
'A healthy, manly sport.' That's wot 'Erb says.
You ought to see his form on football days:
Keyed up, reel eager, eyes alight with joy,
Full of wise schemes for his team to employ.
Knows all about it - how to kick a goal,
An' wot to do if they get in a hole.
Enthusiasm? Why, when 'Erb gets set
He is a sight you couldn't well forget.
There ain't a point about it he don't know
All of the teams and players, top to toe.
The rules, the tricks - it's marvellous the way
He follers - Wot? Good Lord, no, he don't play.
'Erb? Playin' football? Blimey! have a heart!
Aw, don't be silly. 'Erb don't have to play;
He knows more than them players any day.
He's never had a football in his hand,
'Cept once, when it was kicked up in the stand.
No, 'Erb ain't never played; he only sits
An' watches 'em, an' yells, an' hoots and splits
His sides with givin' mugs some sound advice
An' tellin' umpires things wot ain't too nice.
Aw, look; your ejication ain't complete
Till you know 'Erb. You reely ought to meet.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Football fans are so fickle
I love my football
always have
and always will.
But I moan over prices
rather stand than sit
but still buy a season ticket.
I slag off our players
but clap and cheer
when they score
I'm a two faced fan.
Say to my mate
I'm not coming anymore
but I'm there the next game.
Join in shouting at the referee
calling him obscene names
but secretly thinking he's spot on.
Jolly banter with the away fans
in the pub before the games
but dislike them all inside the ground.
Us football fans are all the same
only happy when we are winning
but miserable when we're not.
Is fickleness contagious?
widespread at football grounds?
common only to the football fan?
poem by Kevin Halls
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You've got to be extremely careful, because you could be with a great team, and you could be the product of a great team. There are some players that stand out despite the teams that they play on, and there are some players that are good because of the team that they're with.
quote by Marcus Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The players get no respect around here. They give you money, that's it, not respect. We get constantly dogged and players from other teams love to see that. That's why nobody wants to play here.
quote by Don Mattingly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was an ideal day for football - too cold for the spectators and too cold for the players.
Fragments and Sorrows of Gary Shaw
Man divided?
Extraordinarily multi-sided?
All state football player.
Texas eventual naysayer?
Observer of the offensive?
Notably pensive?
Thoughtful book?
Hallowed culture royally shook?
Envious Howard Cosell and best seller lists proclaimed his veneration?
Hemingway potential of his generation?
Overcome by his inner ghosts -
Only to be so tauntingly close -
Falling into the depths of the perpetually morose!
'They raise cattle and football players in Texas. The cattle are better treated' - the late Gary Shaw in 'Meat on the Hoof'
poem by Hubert Wilson
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Of Your Feelings On Human Rights
Of your feelings on human rights never leave others in doubt
Of wrongs against others one ought to speak out
To those who abuse others rights let your feelings be known
Them for their behaviour you ought to disown
Though with what I say here many may not agree
Those silent at human rights abuse seem in agreement to me
With the offender whoever the offending one may be
Silence in the demonization of others is saying yes to inhumanity
Speak out against racism for racism is wrong
In the Human World it does not belong
There is far too much racism in the big World out there
And a racist person one can meet anywhere,
Against abuse of human rights never fear to speak out
On your feelings on such never leave others in doubt.
poem by Francis Duggan
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