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 the 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
The soundtrack of the sixties
Was
by Lennon and McCartney
But
it was little Georgie Best
Who
did the choreography
“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”
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.
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
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
Something that may get you in a fix
Is
demonstrating fancy card tricks
For
more than one serious gambler
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
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
Diego Maradonna
He of the infamous
Hand of God
Has been savaged
By his new pet
The hound of God
