May 27, 2025

 

 

When as a child

I was taken to my very first football game,

it awoke in me a feeling

that to life there now was some aim.

 

I entered a stadium so wondrous,

filling with people as eager as me,

to forget all their daily troubles

and join together in sweet harmony.

 

And on the day I received for my birthday

a season ticket with my name inside,

was one of the happiest days of my life,

I was hooked and so full of pride.

 

We became a close-knit triangle …

my grandad, dad and me,

and on freezing days when we were losing,

we still had hot pies and a flask of tea.

 

We shared great cup runs together

so excited waiting for the next draw,

and the chance of playing away to a top club

made defeat just a little less raw.

 

And when I moved off to uni

another club became my team of choice,

‘Whatever is the boy thinking?’

exclaimed my family, in one voice.

 

Then, when I married and had children

and grandad passed to the other side,

my son took over his seat in the stand,

and that day we won, and were misty-eyed.

 

Football always there to turn to

and through the decades still remains,

at the very heart of family foundations,

each club singing its own refrains.

 

This poem is not just about one player

displayed on our bedroom wall in a frame,

it’s a story of love and unity

brought together by this fabulous game.

 

by Harriet Blackbury

 

and can be read in Issue 93 (page 40)

of Backpass – The Retro Football Magazine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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