IT'S ONLY A GAME

“It's only a game,” they might say

It’s not a life and death thing

No one ever says, “It's only a game”

When their team is winning

DE BUGGING

 

There was an incident that occurred one Sunday morning in 2005 in Worthing Sussex.

It was during a Sunday morning football match between two potbellied pub teams made up of the usual mix of the overweight, the out of shape and the out of breath.

Five minutes before the interval while everyone’s attention was focused on one end of the pitch a man on a disabled vehicle trundled his way to the center circled where he parked.

He was instantly surrounded by irate players from both teams, when I say instantly it was as soon as the players could get there, and they may not have been irate at all they may just have overexerted themselves running half the length of the pitch.

The referee tried to calm the situation and decided to blow for half time early in order to defuse things.

The match officials questioned the man as to the nature of his protest and it turned out that he was fed up with players and spectators parking on and blocking the cycle path which was his access through the park.

The referee was sympathetic but explained he could do nothing about it and five minutes later the disabled gentleman was escorted from the pitch.

Fortunately, there were no further incidents in the second half and sadly there was no football either. 

OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE

 

I have been a keen sports fan for many years

As my father was before me

But something has always puzzled us

And is in the back of our mind’s constantly

When it comes to the boat race final every year

Why is it the same two teams we always see

CHELSKI

 

Chelsea have won another match

They beat city two goals to one

They were a goal down though

Before they got the job done

Joe Cole scored the equalizer

Shot form twenty yards or more

It took one or two deflections

On the way, well actually it was four

 

Then Frank Lampard struck

From well outside the box

Wrong footing the keeper

After hitting the full backs buttocks

The ball deflected past the keeper

It hit both posts and the bar

Would it go in no one could see

Until it hit the head of the referee

YOU’LL LIKE THIS

Something that may get you in a fix

Is demonstrating fancy card tricks

For more than one serious gambler

Just before you’re about to play poker

PATHLETICS

I hate most track athletes
But sprinters really get my goat
The fastest men on earth they claim
As they strut and preen and gloat
Running very fast in a straight line
Small beer for such a big ego
And they excel for less than ten seconds
Duration unimpressive to my wife I know
On they African plains they’d fail to impress
I can say that without being rude
In the eyes of a hunting lioness
They would be little more than fast food

TO DRY GREENHOFF’S TEAR’S

 

1976, in May

Doc’s red army

Witnessed the young guns

Fail at Wembley

To that iffy goal

Scored by bobby stokes

When Coppell hill and co

Failed to beat McMenemy’s men

A motley crew

Of has-beens and nobody’s

The sick, the lame and the lazy

Won the day

2005, in May

The red army

Witnessed Fergie’s men

At St Mary’s

By two goals to one

Relegate them

To the championship

The old division two

Almost thirty years

The saints were a thorn in United’s flesh

Finally, the ghost of 76

Has been well and truly laid

NICE ONE HENRY # 2

 

FIFA are on a mission

Disrespect for refs they want to defeat

An admirable ambition indeed

But first they need to stamp out cheats

Its spread from normal quarters

To Thierry Henry who to his ignominy

Handled the ball to keep it in play

An offence done quite deliberately

Which was compounded by his lie,

That it happened accidentally

BRITISH BULLDOG

Diego Maradonna

He of the infamous

Hand of God

Has been savaged

By his new pet

The hound of God

BETTER TO BE DEAD THAN RED

 

The Liverpool supporters

Singing from the cop

Urge me to join them

On and on they never stop

 

“You’ll never walk alone”

Is the anthem they sing

It’s gone on for years now

With that tinny scouser ring

 

Well, I’m from Blackpool

And of more sober tone

Which is why I say to the cop

That I’d rather walk alone

WHO’S THE WANKER IN THE BLACK?

 

The song of the supporter’s pack

“Who’s the wanker in the black?”

That was the chant

But no longer, for you can’t

Disrespect the referee

For a man such as he

Is to be protected

And respected

And no one must speak ill

Even if forced to swallow the bitter pill

Of un-just officialdom

Which is NOT seldom

No manager may mutter

Query or utter

Discontent in the ref’s direction

For to commit such an indiscretion

Will see them had up before the FA

Where a fine must be paid

And be sentenced to a touchline ban

For insulting the black clad man

But why should they be protected

And forcibly respected

They are a professional group

And well salaried to boot

They no longer officiate

In their amateur state

Low-tech refereeing

A hobby to be fitted in

Attending the scene of their crime

In their spare time

With no remuneration

For their dedication

No “bread and honey”

Just enough for petrol money

If lucky luncheon vouchers maybe

For a cup of tea

And a pie to warm the soul

Before disallowing a perfectly good goal

It was much better then

With those amateur men

And be able to say to their faces

That they were bloody disgraces

I don’t think we have progressed

Now we have professional refs

They now think themselves important

And no longer want to hear the chant

But I still want to sing with the pack

“Who’s the wanker in the black?”