Alpha at the Euros - Part I - 'The Beautiful Game'

Delighted to be delighted in watching The Euros and, again, suffering the old familiar agonies of supporting England, I thought I'd post a series of three footie poems which appear in my latest collection, Alpha. I shall start with a poem and a title which the great Pele used for his autobiography. (Although whether the great man would agree with the sentiments, therein, is not for me to say.....)

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The Beautiful Game

In those days the balls were bread puddings

and heading the lace meant early onset.

No bending it like Beckham or Ronaldo --

unless you fancied wearing a pair of calipers.

Full backs were psychopaths to a man

and the tackle from behind was de rigueur.

And if a striker still had all his own front teeth

it was regarded as an affectation.

Mike Di Placido: Alpha (Poetry Salzburg,2020).