World Cup Soccer Poem

World Cup Soccer Poem

Away Team One


The coach should quit smoking. I was on the most loosingist team on the planet when I was a boy. We're outcast, long hair, bike gang, cigarette smoking punks but really got soccer. In all, sports helped me to learn being a looser isn't everything.



The field's empty it's raining hard
A wind blows over the grass
The stands are empty quite still
Where once were crowds of fans.

Concession trash red plastic cups
In once people drank beer
The quiet now of yells and cheers
And soccer game win here.

A clenching game two seasoned teams
First kick until the end
The stands were full to see each team
Their wifes or girlfriends.

Two teams play the one team Home
The other team Away
And everyone has gathered here
To watch the game or play.

The sun beat down it's rays of light
White lines and grass and green
The game began a ball a kick
And black stripe referee.

The home team center clear and open
The ball comes off his toe
It sails past the goalies head
But bounces off the post.

"Way to go, now score a goal"
Encouraged words from coach
Baggy eyes and scruff beard
He crushes out his smoke.

The ball goes high and bounces off
The home team's forward's head
Two players crash in side the lines
The ball goes out of bounds
The referee, the ball's in play
The goalies' over head
Away goes down the open field
To cheers and jeering crowds.

The coach's glare is hard and raspy
He reaches for a towel
"C'mon you guys let's get the ball"
And lights another cig
Concentrate and focus on
And take this season's win.

The sky's gone gray a little mist
The calm is now a wind
Home team's formation's thick and tight
The forward makes a kick.

It's blocked in close but near the post
The center makes a pass
It goes high, a bloody nose
and Pepsi logo patch.

The field goes wet and turns up steam
Muscles, legs and knees
It doesn't seem to matter much
To players on both teams.

Both teams tired and short of breath
Knees are scrapped and stained
The center runs to take a shot
And win the final game.

He crumples down before the goal
In agonizing pain
The ball rolls off they help him up
A rolling ankle sprain
The fans get quiet the stands seem still
The weather turns to rain.

He stands again to take the game
And down again he falls
They help him to the sidelines
But giving up the ball.

The team in line, a minutes time
Away shoots high, it whistles by
And butts off goalies head
It knockes him down ahe's up again

The goalies foggy breath
Away again this time goes in
By bouncing off his leg
The fans go "no" to disenchantment
And swearing on the bench
The clock still ticks each second counts
To make a single score.

The coach yells out, "C'mon let's get
A number on the board"
The ref goes, "Game" his whistle blows
Without a score for home.

In single file, their heads hung down
The climb back in their van
The referee's in his SUV
The fans have left the stands.

It's raining hard the field's mud
The clouds replaced the sun
Next year Home cos team Away
They win it zero to one.

I used a typical 7 beat line that Dylan uses alot.

It's kind of based around the baseball story of Casey going to bat.

The weather changes as the outcome darkens.

I now get in to Hockey cos it's faster than Soccer. (Hockey is not a sport...go Red Wings). I played table foosball throughout college.

http://www.soccer.org/home.aspx

http://www.ussoccer.com/

http://www.fifa.com/worldcup/matches/index.html