The beautiful game
It’s only a game
This beautiful game.
There was nothing he liked more than a kick-around with a ball
Down the park or the reccie with his mates
He’d stay out til dark and his mum would moan he was late for his tea.
The lads swapped football stickers and wore team shirts for PE
And when he got the latest home kit for Christmas he was delighted.
Okay there was that time that big lad thumped him for dissing United
But it was only a game.
Then he joined the local football club
Practice twice a week and matches on Saturday,
The Mums and Dads would come and watch kids play
And listen as the coach turned the air blue,
And sometimes the parents would join in too,
Cursing any boy that missed a header or made a mistake,
Hurling swearwords and abuse that no kid should have to take.
And so every match day win or lose
They had their self-respect battered and their egos bruised
One match two Dads started up a fight
Right there in the crowd, kids were screaming in fright,
And one of the guys ended up in A&E
With a broken nose and a twisted knee
And the cops were called and they took down some names
But they got off with a warning, cos after all it’s just a game.
Now it’s been ten years or more since he’s kicked a ball
But he still has a ball down the pub with his mates,
His wife sorts the kids and never moans when he’s late for his tea
Supporting his favourite team and above all his country -
One flag, one nation, united in hope and pride
And a hatred of the ref and the calls of off-side.
But supporting’s thirsty work, so he has a drink or two
Or three, or four, then just one more – by half-time he’s had a few
And if they win for sure he’ll get a skin-full to celebrate
And if they lose he’ll drown his sorrows and down pints to commiserate.
From their house down the street she can hear them cheer
And she follows the score as she lies awake in fear
Because she knows that every match day, win or lose
She’ll be the one that ends up battered and bruised.
It’s only a face
Once such a beautiful face
Like the day they fell in love
But now it bears the trace
Of love gone wrong, of love misplaced
Upon a man who loves football more than his wife
As the beautiful game ruins another life
He hits her so hard she’s down on her knees
Is this the match day she ends up in A&E?
Another world cup statistic in the football hall of shame
For those who can’t remember - it’s only a game.