Points mean prizes. Goals win matches.
Balls hurt heads.
One Saturday pm in Feb,
South Twos got out of their bed.*
Tom Steed scored a brace,
And hit Max in the face,
Then we went to the pub and got fed.**
The match started with a dictat,
Do nothing for the first ten minat.
And though it was heeded,
It somehow succeeded,
As Nomads seemed to have the same tictac.***
South’s defensive unit was strong,
Playing balls out both short and long.
The midfield was stoic,
The forwards heroic,
The match dragged on and on.
On the whole, South were stronger than Nomads,
Who looked like a load of old dads.
Anns finished without a scratch,
Coops, Graveling, Steed shared man of the match,
And no one got hit in the…
* For literary purposes, this is singular, not plural; we
don’t all share the same bed, in reality.
** Apart from Jon, who went to a shop instead.
*** Sorry, struggled to get that one to rhyme.
Steed, for first person to score two goals in one match without either hitting the backboard.
Coops, for a masterful yet forgettable midfield display.
Graveling, for no real reason apart from turning up.
(Editor's note: Once postal votes were counted, Steed was declared the solo winner)
Steed, for friendly fire.