These are archived poems, from the Pele's Crap Football Poetry Page I created from the When Saturday Comes Half Decent Website. Pele's verse attempts started in 1995 and went on until the WSC site redesign in 2000. I contemplated bringing out a Poetry Anthology called 'Lies About Footballers' - but it ended up in my Project of Unfinished Projects. The site's strapline was "Global game - global community - global online nonsense"... which doesn't seem out of date. Here are a few of the poems.
I Am Tony Adams
"I am Tony Adams," said Tony Adams,
When I asked him to explain his philosophy of life.
"Tony Adams sees the beauty in all things," said Tony Adams.
"What, even Martin Keown, " I said.
"Erm..." said Tony Adams
A Brief History of the Transfer System
Steve Bloomer and David Jack
broke transfer records way, way back
when fat industrialists ran the clubs
and training sessions were held in pubs.
Because of the fags they all looked old
and were bonded serfs to be bought and sold.
A grand could get you a top class player
(now you'd get a fortnight in Marbella
Or two season tickets for a Premiership team -
not including the cost of a salmon and cream
Trying to Find Out How many Games Mick Bates Played For Leeds in 1972 - Part 1
The telephone rang - an old friend said he'd pop round for some tea
With a dog eared Rothman's Year book from 1973
As we sat munching custard creams he said "put in a bid"
And after much hard bargaining, I gave him twenty quid.
Everton Players, On Returning Home From Mexico '70
Ear to the phone
Dealing in stolen cars
Looks out at night
Marvelling at the stars
Lies on his futon
Smoking some cheap cigars
Not very tall
Trying to get served in bars
Full back, full back
English full back
Kicks it into touch.
Likes to tackle,
Shout and dribble
(The last one not that much).
Leading the Line for Doncaster Rovers
Sincil Bank on a rainy day in 1979
We laugh at Alan Warboys,
Who is several years past his prime.
No more the robust big man
In the famous pair called 'Smash and Grab',
Alan's now a wobbly lard gut
Covered in great folds of flab.
The Questions of Sport
Will anyone come up with the answers
To the the toughest questions there are?
Would Man Ciy have won the title
If they hadn't hadnt signed Marsh from QPR?
Would England have won the world cup
If Banks hadn't touched that beer?
If Leeds had kept hold of Cantona
Would they have won the title year after year?
Would Gazza be the best player ever
If he wasn't such a silly bugger?
And if pigs' bladders weren't round but oval
Would we all now be playing rugger?
Old Arsenal Fullbacks Try to Change the World In A Night
Lee Dixon came to our local pub
And tried to convert us all
To the cause of International socialism
"You're too late mate," said the landlord
"We had that Nigel Winterburn in here last night.
We're all Buddhists now."
Merseyside in the 80s
Way back in the dreary 80s
When Thatch held her iron grip
Merseyside ruled the football world.
Even their bands were sort of hip.
One team was red and ruthless,
Like Stalin or Chairman Mao.
The other had loads of fantastic stars.
They also had Pat Van den Hawe.
On the resemblance between a Balkan no.9 and my father
The Croatian Davor Suker
Looks just like my dad
Except that Suker's good at footy.
My dad is pretty bad.
George Best's Unknown Pleasures
Georgie Best, superstar
Wears frilly knickers
And a see thru bra
Georgie Best, superstar
Bet he doesn't know who
Joy Division are
That was Zen, This is Joao
Wow, I saw Joao
On a cow
Pow, I think Joao
Lives in Slough
Tao, looks like Joao
Lives for now
Ciao, I say Joao
Loves Don Howe
(All poems © Tim Bradford, 1995-2000)