FOOTBALL IN THE 50’s

 Peter Woodgate 

Sunday morning football down the park

We had to carry a crossbar and each post

Across the muddy pitches in our ankle boots

All this exertion on one piece of toast.

 

The ball was solid leather with a bladder

Which could soak up a puddle on its day

Should you be brave enough to try and head it

You soon regretted it with some dismay.

 

Our shirts were, mostly, of the same design

The shorts and socks did not follow suit

We wore whatever we could beg or borrow

And very often too, that meant a boot.

 

We didn’t care too much about the weather

Be it hail or ice or even snow

We never made a fuss, just got there on the bus

And waited for the referee to blow.

 

There was no pay for all our gallant efforts

No heated soil or nice hot baths with soap

We left the pitch all muddy and with bruises

Sometimes we lost but remained full of hope.

 

We then washed knees and elbows and our boots

In freezing water in an outside trough

If we were lucky someone brought a towel

Even though it was extremely rough.

 

Despite the lack of luxuries or substitutes

We counted down the days before each game

I look at football now and wonder just how

The players would have coped, it’s not the same

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate