Goalie
The lightening limbs of goalie Knight
Thrust left. strike right; they block the sight
Of these inferior, tepid players
Whose slapshots speed but have no bite.
He wears a mask of white, blank leering,
Callous to even home fan cheering.
Visiting skaters do their best
But cannot pierce this phantom sneering.
Periods ebb, the referees whistle;
The penalty box fills, coaches bristle.
The goalie crouches in his lair;
He guards the score with rank dismissal
As buzzers sound, players dissemble;
The Gorgon goalie makes big men tremble.
poem by Todd R. Nelson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Your best penalty killer is your goalie.
quote by Dave Allison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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 Beautiful Game
As you step on to the muddy field,
You feel the joy rise inside you,
The crowd roars as the players take up there positions;
And your team gets ready to kick off.
As the game commence all nervousness is lost,
Replaced by a sudden adrenaline rush,
The play goes back and forth, forth and back;
But you run on still,
nothing else concerns you but the ball.
It goes on as such for many minutes,
Until your rivals get a chance,
Your goalie tries but to your despair the ball finds the back of the net;
The crowd boos in anger and frustration.
The very next play the ball comes to you,
You run up the wing blasting by defender after defender,
You see an opening in the keeper’s defences;
You wind up to shoot and…
TWEET! You’re tackled by a defender,
Penalty shot declares the ref,
To the opposition’s protest.
You place the ball on the penalty spot,
And the once roaring crowd goes silent,
Thousands of eyes are upon you unspeaking and unforgiving,
As you wind up to shoot all time seems to stop;
And Suddenly time resumes to the roar of the crowd
And your teammates swarming around you,
At this moment you think to yourself,
Soccer, the beautiful game.
poem by Joseph Conlan
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Gold Medal Blues
Please hide the newspapers-and turn off the news.
Please, nobody talk. I’ve got the gold medal blues.
No radio talk show can cure what I got.
Why couldn’t Sid hit the post with that shot?
America’s team gave it their best
We beat those Canadians on the first test.
We out skated the Swiss, steamrollered the Finns-
yet only got Silver for all of our wins.
Though we were the home squad it all seemed so wrong
The crowd in attendance was booing our song.
They dressed all in red, waved the maple leaf flag
One fan looked like Celine Dionne in drag.
Luongo, their goalie, was playing at home
While he made basic stops he did not look that strong.
The American goalie did more to impress
With grace under pressure- no hint of distress
J.P. Parise’s boy gave us some hope
with time running out it was tied like a rope.
But sudden death hockey well deserves its name
Crosby’s second chance shot quickly ended the game
Please hide the newspapers-and turn off the news.
Please, nobody talk. I’ve got the gold medal blues.
No radio talk show can cure what I got.
Why couldn’t Sid hit the post with that shot?
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Futbol
There he is standing on the field, looking around and laughing
he wants to see what you see from the stands, himself basking, charming.
The ball slips from the fingers of a dazzled referee and he kicks out,
deftly he is gliding in and out between his opponents, he is glorious.
Then where has the goal gone that it is no longer before him?
So that he spins around and is aghast and desperate with anxiety?
His opponent grins and lives the sport, he breathes the dance,
and he chants in his heart the reality of his passion, as he flies!
You do not doubt that he is dancing, because his eyes are singing.
He floats above the grass, he lifts his knees high and tumbles low.
He watches from afar as his body works his will like an oiled puppet,
and he is certainly a masterful puppeteer, he grins and slides.
Where did our laughing hero go who was so handsome with the crowd?
He is behind, running to catch up and wondering in shock what happened.
His opponent tips the ball into the air with a gentle kick of the toe.
He positions himself and pirouettes slowly, the ball goes flying.
The goalie's heart pumps like a psychotic ocean, he is freaking out now.
The ball parts the breath's of his team mates and loopty loops into the net.
Four tenths of a second after the ball flits into the net, the goalie blocks
and slaps air and is laid out at the post, feeling bested by a better man.
Again and again the dancer, the puppeteer, rides the ball down the field.
Score. Score. Score. Score. Score. There is the clock and the game is over.
Our hero grimaces in angst and seethes at glory lost and wonders...
where was he when he was most needed, where was all his glory and fame?
How was he bested by an up-and-coming punk, he wondered with shock.
When did the cinematographer of this movie decide that his part was over?
He overheard the answer at a news conference after the game
'He knows the rules better than he knows the sport, ' said his opponent
with a grin.
poem by Poet Dragon
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But the equipment to protect the players hasn't developed along with that, so now you have more players out with worse injuries, for longer periods of time.
quote by Leigh Steinberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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A Switch Hitter Looks for 'That' Pitch
A switch hitter looks for 'that' pitch.
That certain one,
To bat a home run off of it.
Not to swing to foul or strike out.
But to prove his game played is legit.
With the hope that a home run,
Gets some cheering from a crowd...
Paying to have fun.
And the cheering done as the hitter runs,
Is prayed not to be the only one to come.
And in the dugout the hitter is welcomed,
As a hero.
Ending with a ceasing of cracked jokes.
And the spitting out of old bubble gum chewed!
As a new pack is passed...
While the players encourage the next at bat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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After All Said And Done.
After Friday choir practice
in the church
after the other members
had gone to the vestry
to ready themselves for home
she stood in the darkened church
looking at the altar
and the high windows
where only moonlight
shone through
and she said to you
we'll stand here one day
and get married maybe
and say our vows
and there will be
our families and friends
and the parson will say
kiss the bride and you will
and she smiled
and looked at you
standing in the quiet church
and you said
some years off maybe
we're only fourteen
and still at school
and we've got to get pass
your mother yet
like trying to get a ball
by a fat goalie
who fills the net
but she just shook her head
and smiled and said
don't be so negative
look on the positive side
look to the future
with bright eyes
and it seems strange now
and sad to look back
at that night
with you and she
standing in that aisle
in semi-dark
while outside
in the night sky
fate was working out
a different answer
where you
would marry others
and she would die
from cancer.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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Most professional players are their own biggest critics. Some of the things you read in the papers that strike you as bang out of order will already have been thought by the players themselves.
quote by Rio Ferdinand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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EURO-The Football Spirit
What's a ball without a kick
That's almost how we try and trick
Like mountaineers with cold food
We are always down with a football shoot
Craving for the last minute bounce
We end up blowing the goalie down
Football's what we need
Football's what we breathe
That's what we crave for and
That's what we live for
It's the time, it's the year
Only 42 days and we'll clear
the EURO waves and kick it start
with some rocking glory
to end it up with the EURO trophy.
poem by Taanya Khanna
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The players wanted more money, higher salary caps and they didn't have that family relationship we felt with the players. Mentally, the players were more businesslike.
quote by Guy Lafleur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I spend a lot of time copying saxophone players and trumpet players. Not to say that it is not important to listen to guitar players, but there's so much music out there and so many possibilities. I like anyone who plays any instrument.
quote by Bill Frisell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The one game we all play
The one game we all play
We play games
To show our valour
And mainly to win
We do not mind going for coaching
If we feel we do not have the
Required strength to win
We play games
Either as a team or individual
The attempt is to demonstrate
That we are better talented
Than the team or member
Against whom we play
Nations enthuse people to play games
So that they add pride
Some games are played with
Gadgets and protective accessories
We have spectators to watch
The way we play
We have umpires and referees
Who ensure rules of the games
Are strictly adhered
And it is all a fair play
We play games indoor or outdoor
We play games in daylight
Or under artificial illumination
We score while playing
And the score achieved by a team or individual
In a specific time
Decides the winner
We telecast the games
We comment on the strengths and weaknesses
Of a team or individual
We conduct national and international
Tournaments to declare a team or individual
As champion
Irrespective of skills, race, gender
We all play a game
Which is played mainly to lose
It is an individual game
With no specific rules
With no umpire
With no spectator
With no commentator
With no TV coverage
With no scores
With no trophies
With no victory stands
With no top scorer
With no “player of the match”
But we play
Most of us like to play this game
Indoor and in closed doors
Decency and civilized ways
Do not allow this game being played in the open
There is no season for this game
It can be played any part of the day
And any part of the year
Summer, winter, monsoon seasons
Have no bearing on this game
The one requirement in this game is
Complete transparency and intimacy
Rules for this game
Vary from individual to individual
Rules also get refined
With the experience of the players
There are no restrictions to employ
Any method as both the players
Are determined to be the loser
Duration of play depends again
On the individuals
The game ends
Most often to the satisfaction
Of the both the players
In other games players declare
That they are retiring from playing
There is no retirement in this game
As players advance in age
They understand it is more a mind game
Outcome of this game
Are further more players
You guessed it right
It is the game of love
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Some of the money from the senior players goes to helping out the younger kids. It is from the players' pool, the fines for being late and so on. Some will go to something like the tsunami appeal and some to helping out young players.
quote by John Terry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Football - The most beautiful game
After stepping into the field
there is no way out
even before you start the game
you hear the fans shout
The players then sings their anthem
its football......
the most beautiful game.....
And when the whistle blows
the crowd starts their roar
in the 90 tensed minutes
the players got to score
Football is friendly only in name
because friendliness is not meant for football....
the most beautiful game....
So when the hard tackles go in
and injured fellow goes out
the crowd becomes furious
and starts to shout
Even after breaking one's leg
there seems to be no shame
because its football....
the most beautiful game....
David Cleek
I cannot think that Death will press his claim
To snuff you out or put you off your game:
You’ll still contrive to play your steady round,
Though hurricanes may sweep the dismal ground,
And darkness blur the sandy-skirted green
Where silence gulfs the shot you strike so clean.
Saint Andrew guard your ghost, old David Cleek,
And send you home to Fifeshire once a week!
Good fortune speed your ball upon its way
When Heaven decrees its mightiest Medal Day;
Till saints and angels hymn for evermore
The miracle of your astounding score;
And He who keeps all players in His sight,
Walking the royal and ancient hills of light
Standing benignant at the eighteenth hole,
To everlasting Golf consigns your soul.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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