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.....)
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).