Football: my first love

We eagerly wait for the canaries to sing, awake all the citizens tell them it’s time to grin
It’s not about money, it’s not about greed
It’s a must like the food we eat
The love we need
The oxygen we breathe
It takes no Newton to understand, but there is genius in its simplicity
We scream with glee when we utter its name, so sweet on the lips, like your granddads toffees.
All of last season’s Pandora’s Box’s, full of heartbreaks, with new signings can only leave hope.
Come forth from the darkness like a black cat and let its shine, wash away your daily problems, and clear your mind, stop and stir, ogle it’s its brilliance, as football takes centre stage.
You wear your heart on your sleeve, but your badge is what you really seek to protect the most. It’s self, its identity. If it bares the symbol of the baggies or the stamp of the potters, with pride you stand with your hand on it, and your lips not too far from it.
They say all is connected; the big and the small; the young and the old; the part is the whole and the whole is just another part. We march as one that knows no bounds, no religion, gender or race. For us we are all brothers’ ready to stamp our feet in unison as we step into the modern day coliseum, where brave warriors prepare to do battle. No matter if you’re a blue or a red, we all scream for more bloodshed.
It seems like one of the first religions yet it still grows, but to me it will never get old
The English have given so much to the world, but our greatest gift to it is football, from Malaysia too Australia, its loving embrace touches the world. You don’t have to go too far, to see the colours of the claret and blue of the hammers. Just to come home again and see the Lilly white of the cottages glistening in the afternoon sun.
We watch dynasties rise and falls, the birth of new hero’s and the emergencies of old foes and villain’s, but praying for a saint to score us a goal, to give as that post match glow. It’s unpredictable like a game of chance. So be warned for the next match can offer a cruel fate at the hand of the red devils.
Wear your colours with pride, for a tiger never changes its strips, and when the time is ripe shout from the gallous with your team’s motto with pride.
Not from our loins, but still they are our noble sons. We pin upon to them, the key to unlocking our wildest dreams, and spur us to victory, when they deliver us those illusive three.
Like a magpie we are always searching for that piece of silverware but don’t forget that it’s not just in 86 that a hand of god take it all away, so with victory saver the moment.
You must think about football when you think about life and life when you think about football: For one belongs to the other: and one is just another word for the other
You love it for all its flaws, the tricks and the flicks, the way it flows. So stand by your team even through the rise and falls.
And when it all ends, we bow our heads in silence and sing the last swan songs, then point the gunner in the air, fire our last salutes, but only for under our breathes can we begin the count down again for when the eagle will majestically swore once more.


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