The cathedral is empty; the sermons have
ended
The choir’s ethereal echoes have faded
No congregation here for seven more days
No tussle, no evil, no home or away
The floodlights are off now, the dank of
the night
Re-devours its kingdom, extinguishes light
Which once fired up emotions of thouands of
fans
Clad in replica shirts made in far Eastern
lands
For a pittance in sweatshops, imported for
more
And sold at huge profit in the club’s own
store.
In the studio Alan and Ronald and Desmond
Take stock of the game and the goals and
the tension.
DES: Alan, you know when that first goal
went in
It was one heck of a strike, wasn’t it?
What d’you think?
ALAN: Yes Des, he’s had so much time to
control it
The defenders should get closer, get a
block on it,
It’s a great hit of course but you know
when it went in
You have to say that it was shocking
defending.
DES: Ron, it was two nil immediately after –
To concede so quickly, is it a disaster?
RON: I know Alan was shouting and screaming
To be honest, I understood how he was feeling
The centre-half’s gone walkies but the this
striker’s unique
From that angle to score – he’s got
brilliant technique.
He’s opened his legs there, done his lollipop
trick,
Give the goalie the eyes there, right on
the back stick,
It’s a Hollywood ball to him from Stevie G
And he’s stuck it away, that was something
to see.
But as for the lad who was on the back post
Just what he was doing? He should have got
close.
The striker’s six foot but the full back is
bigger.
In some schools they’d call him a fuDES:
Sorry to stop you in full flow big man
But Garth’s got an interview just under the
stand.
GARTH: Thanks Des, I’m here with the
Ullapool boss
But first I must define ‘winning’ and ‘loss’
From a Cartesian point of view, Paul, what
did you think
Or indeed if you do think, if thinking
exists
Or does not. Was it Kant who once wrote in
grace
That perception relied on inference of
space
Albeit that we can’t see it we sense it’s
there
Like Xavi did last week against Osasuna?
Or is it, bear with me, the theory you
favour,
Like Karl Marx said about control of labour
Would you say, Paul, that football is very
much the same,
You control the ball and you control the
game or
Conversely in Keynseyan terms is it then,
thus,
That demand and production are not linked
as such
And on the pitch the ball is the flow of
the cash
The goals the demand, the players the banksDES:
Sorry to butt in Garth, you’re on a roll
But it’s the end of the programme about our
football
To the viewers, thanks for watching, see
you next week
Enjoy this new visit to Corrie - The
Street.
The
theme music plays. It’s a jaunty old tune
Got
to number one during World Cup ‘92
The
adverts change now; from beer to tea
From
new boots to slankies to cruises at sea
Back at the ground the atmosphere is eerie
Too big to be silent, the emptiness really
An absence. From here, the pitch looks so
big
Yet diminished. No studs, no flobbing, no
sick
As a parrot, no over the moon, no remorse
At the missed open goal that would have
changed the course
Of the game. Yet such moments live on in
the minds
(Or the Sky Plus) of supporters biding
their time
Til next game, where all’s zeroed, it’s
0-0, let’s go,
This time lads, let’s focus, put on a real
show,
Perform how you can and we’ll get our deserts
Or next week, son, you’re sub for the
fucking reserves.
The congregation’s gone; there’s more
places to worship
More lifetimes and lovers and pains and
amidst it
Comrades and enemies, two sides of a coin
Different colours outside, but all bleed
just the same
From a last minute goal in a 2-1 defeat
An encompassing burning from bruised brain
to feet
But despite the despondency, all the folks
still know
They’ll be back for the next game to cheer
on their heroes
The lights are all off now; the seats
yawned and shut,
The gates locked, the ad boards turned off,
just about,
A blackbird alights on the pitch for a
second,
Looks around, finds nothing, cawks once.
Echo,
echo.
Ec
Echo.
The lads in the studio’ve gone to the bar
To josh and to banter of golf games and
cars
Supporters flop on to their couches and
chairs
A quick beer, or cuppa, then pad up to beds.
But back at the ground, can we see?
In the distance, yes, we must look
carefully:
With furrowed brow and too many adjectives
to mention
It’s Garth on his own: still not finished
his question.
