Poetry Thursday 153 - Commentators

 The World Cup will end next Sunday, Wimbledon ended last Sunday, and cricket matches have started and ended in the last week or so. Many other sports are active or have just ended in the last few days. Associated experts and commentators are temporarily, or will be, unemployed. I could give a cheer for the relief that the English language must be feeling. 

Commentators

They are there from whenever you view,

football, cricket, golf, and more,

expressing experiences from history they accrue,

experts on techniques and sporting law.

Their knowledge is frighteningly vast.

 

Formed from the retired player body,

they may have not even been the best,

believing they articulate in no way shoddy,

until viewers say, ‘C’mon give it a rest’,

Their hubris is almost boundless.

 

It was not always thus,

games were played with minimal chatter,

in ’66 Wolstenholme spoke with minimum fuss,

the game won without expert natter.

No talking heads back then.

 

It’s good to receive informed support,

but not at the expense of the action,

I enjoy the succinct sports report,

rather than nattering distraction,

Silence is golden.

©David L Atkinson June 2026 

God Bless

Poetry Thursday 150 - World Cup's back

 It's back and with accompanying controversy - World Cup. Taking place across Mexico, USA and Canada in a number of different cities across the continent. 

World Cup Woes

 

In ’66 the world was ours,

nations tried to do their worst,

to defeat England using all their powers,

but they never reckoned on striker Hurst.

 

Then I was 16 the Beatles were great,

pizza, a new addition to your plate,

curry was not yet an option,

yoghurt a liquidy, puddingy concoction.

 

But at football we soared on eagles’ wings,

defeating countries with amazing skills,

enjoying what success brings,

giving supporters tangible thrills.

 

Since then there’s been ups and downs,

some promise but more flops,

fans faces full of frowns,

new players, many drops.

 

Here we are 60 years on

overcoming weaker teams again,

after barren years matches won,

is the cup ours to regain?

 

Knockout stage an undoubted lottery,

only one chance to win,

nerves definitely jittery,

who will Tuchel pick to begin?

 

The key is in our own hands,

our lads must believe,

relying on their own brand,

the dazzling crown to receive.

 

Now at 70+ music is strange,

Quinoa apparently is good food,

phones - no wires - with huge range,

winning again would be good.

©David L Atkinson June 2026 

God Bless 

Poetry Thursday 95 - Cricket loverly cricket

 Over the years, there have been many great cricketing days. It was a treat for me to watch test matches (5 days) with my father. Mother even made lunch on trays so that we didn't miss a ball. Then there was the time when I was old enough to actually attend test matches, which was magical. Throughout that time, there have been wonderfully skilled players, but today I believe we have probably the best Englishman in decades. 

Remembering Cricket

 

I remember watching classy Cowdrey,

and Freddie Trueman the fiery,

the bowling of John Snow,

a belligerent Boycott refusing to go.

 

The Windies bowling machine given an edge,

with the batting of Sobers and of Greenidge,

years of magnificent test match success,

putting terrified batsmen under stress.

 

Australia, Pakistan and India contributors,

producing talented, stylish players,

while we continued bumbling along,

striving with the stiff upper lip to rely on.

 

Nothing could diminish the excitement of a test,

driving to Headingley hoping for a day of the best,

cricket that two teams could possibly supply,

viewed from a seat in the coconut shy.

 

There have been many such days including at Lord’s,

when enjoyment was indescribable beyond words,

and yet this game continues to provide,

players who excel for their countries with pride.

 

Currently I have a remarkable favourite,

England have for years from his talent benefitted,

his batting ability never in dispute,

the magnificent, record-breaking J E Root.

©David L Atkinson June 2025 

God Bless 

Poetry Thursday 45 - Euros 2024

 Here we are again in the midst of a football competition with all the hype and expectation that goes alongside this type of event. I am fortunate enough to remember the 1966 World Cup in England, which we won. We're expected to repeat that feat once again this year which is nothing new. In fact, since 1966, there has been a biannual World Cup/Euros and I can't remember a time when success wasn't expected. 

Euros 2024

 On Germanic fields, the warriors tread,

with hopes and dreams, they charge ahead.

the whistle blows, the crowd roars loud,

each pass and shot, a journey proud.

 

The ball dances between the feet,

of players swift, with hearts that beat.

for glory's call, they chase and strive,

within their souls, the game's alive.

 

In unity, they stand as one,

from minute zero till ninety some.

through trials faced and battles won,

their will to win can't be undone.

 

So the tournament has begun,

best teams rise a trophy to be won.

But in this game of joy and pain,

the love for football shall remain.

©David L Atkinson June 2024 

God Bless