A little poetry

The Big Match

Just give me a minute, to tell you this tale,
It’s based on football, on miniature scale.
Our man plays a game, that most of you know,
Called Table Football, or SUB-BUT-EO.
He’s been playing all day, just one match to go,
And he’s into the final, wouldn’t you know!
His opponent is daunting, but beatable too,
The last time they played, it ended 2-2.
The crowd gathers round and the cheering begins,
The players feel goose bumps rise up on their skins.
But no time for nerves and the Ref says to “Play!”
Just who will be the best player this day?
The game is so even, both players are good,
But defences hold firm; just as defences should.
Half time comes and goes, with nothing to show,
The odds of a shootout continue to grow.
The second half starts with a cheer and a roar,
Urging both players to attack, and to score.
With so much at stake, both players are tense,
And as time ticks by, the pressure’s immense.
A battle of minds and a battle of wills,
Both players showing incredible skills.
But then our man goes for a big final push,
Keeping possession, but not in a rush.
Moving the ball down the right then the left,
With lightning fast touches, ever so deft.
When suddenly there is a gap in the wall,
Can he get through with both man and the ball?
The block flick comes in but its heavy by far,
The shot is now on, keep it under the bar.
A step back, a deep breath, then step in to shoot,
It flies in the net like it’s from Beckham’s boot.
A glance at the clock and the time is now up,
The whistle sound shrill and he’s won the Gold Cup!
But whatever the outcome, they shake hands just the same,
It might not be sport----but it’s more than a game!

Special thanks to Mike Parnaby for sharing the text with us!