poem and image above by Lewis Wyn Davies
It’s not only the goals
that wet both eyes.
Not only the number
of market towns, cathedral cities
and bashful hamlets between the teams,
dwarfed only by their respective incomes.
It’s not only the hush punched
into ten thousand extra bodies,
including the circus who dissect replays
even when the game wears a toe tag.
It’s not only the opposite generations
shaking each other senseless.
It’s everything that happens after this.
As the manager dedicates the win
to the community and anyone losing
hope in his homeland, it’s this feeling.
When we conjure up our wildest dreams
it’s these days that submit the blueprints.
These times make us believe
monopolies can be broken
and giants can fall – even with
the unearned additional minutes
they are so often gifted.
These moments show us
how capable we are
of pulling into reality
what we once thought impossible.
