It felt like I was the grandad
It didn’t make me mad just a little sad
Energetic youth all around me
Worrying ‘bout my dodgy knee
Here I was on the Futsol course
Not sat on my sofa watching Morse
The classroom bit I took in my stride
Answered some questions tried not to hide
Now here was the tricky bit
Now I thought I was quite fit
In the hall youths buzzing around me
I felt rooted to the ground like a tree.
Then it came to me being in goal
Stopped a few shots good for the soul
Every time I made a save
Ironic cheers a Mexican wave.
Finally time for the big match
Worried I wouldn’t come up to scratch
Fortunately roll on roll off subs
Had I visited too many pubs ?
I was only on for a minute
Clearly they thought this was my limit
I only gave the ball away twice
They scored a goal a heavy price
Maybe it’s time to hang up my boots
Follow some more leisurely pursuits.
In my mind I am a lot younger
Body reminds me I’m not ...bugger!
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Author:
The Retired Bloke (
Offline) - Published: December 17th, 2018 07:02
- Comment from author about the poem: Yesterday I attended a Futsol course run by the Football Association. (Futsol is a small sided football game originating from South America). Well in a classroom full of students from Leeds Beckett University, and where I was the oldest by about 20 years, I felt my age. This was particularly so when we had to take part in football drills!!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 59
Offline)
Comments2
That spirit of yours willing, but the flesh weak, as it's said?
Flesh weak yesterday, aching today!
So very true, in my mind I am still 35 but my body is twice that age - and I know it!
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