When it’s going wrong

It’s him against ten

A boy can have the boots

Of a twenty year old

Can have the same boots

Since he was twelve

A young boy can only reach so far

Can only be seen to be trying

When it’s going good

He has nothing to do

Swinging from the bar

Excited and animated

Trumpeting breath

A young man

Awaiting a whistle of ruffled hair

A beautiful journey home

The car radio

Is better than before

I’m not allowed to go again

Because I should be watching the whole match

Not just him

Because I always have to go shopping on the way home

And he wants to get back and go out

Because it’s not up to me to tell the ref

To keep an eye on sixteen