POETRY IN MOTION

Rousing music plays in the background as you read this; think Braveheart or Gladiator. The poem overlays the game narrative; hear Charles Dance or Christopher Lee.

***

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

The season is two and a half months old. League performance: six played, three drawn, three lost.

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

Smith and Andrews confer pre-match: roll the dice. New formation.

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

"3-5-2," declares Smith; "Jesus," Laban mutters; "Pardon?" Smith replies; "Jesus would approve," Laban clarifies.

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

The match kicks off.

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

Team feel positive. But what's this? Offside? Not given. 1-0 Thorntonians.

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

Positive thoughts. Workrate. Communication. Movement. Pressure.

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

Breakthrough! Cozens-Smith's shot, saved; keeper's save, spilled; keeper's spill, pounced upon by Smith; Smith cross, finds Grant; Grant's volley, in. Goal.

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

1-1. Keep it together. You can do it boys.

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

Disaster. Penalty. Dispatched. Scored. Encroachment? Retake. Drama builds. Retake. Dispatched. 2-1 Thorntonians.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

Roll the dice; attack is the only defence.

And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

Optimism builds. Pressure builds. Momentum builds. It's coming home.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And it happens! Kennedy shot from range, flying towards the goal, somehow saved - but only as far as Cozens-Smith, striker's instinct afire to dispatch the tricky rebound. 2-2.

And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

And hold on the Mighty Threes did. Hold on and more.

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

Corner won by Richards. Gamesmanship.

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

Corner taken by Kennedy.

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Andrews - yet to score for Wandsworth Borough 3s - rises like a salmon. Connects.

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

The ball hits the back of the net.

3-2.

Scenes.