The Keeper Is Up
The keeper is up
from darkest Hertfordshire,
on loan from Stevenage Borough,
staying in a Victorian mid-terrace
with no man's landlady Mrs Ennis
who makes a righteous mac 'n' cheese
and real Yorkshire puds on Sundays.
None of your Aunt Bessie's nonsense!
The keeper is up.
He's an early riser.
Yesterday, he was up and on the sofa
before the clarion call
of Homes Under the Hammer.
The last match, he started on the bench.
Ten minutes into the game, the gaffer
figured he might do better
if he was on the pitch,
doing the things that goalies do:
stopping shots, smoking tab ends
and keeping a clean(ish) sheet.
The keeper is up.
The clock is running down.
The sands are running out
of the Jimmy Hill hourglass.
The fans and fooligans are screaming
like the wind outside Captain Scott's tent.
The keeper is up
and channelling Chilavert.
The season hangs suspended
like a keeper from a crossbar.
B.R. 29.01.2023
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