Phrenology Anthology

Desailly and Kanu compete for the ball

There's many a one who'd be idle
if the biting hunger for that sweet taste of victory
didn't conspire to raise expectation
to within an inch of the artex
on the average dreamer's ceiling

For upon the sweat-drenched pillow
uneasy lies the head that craves the crown
where footballs ricochet in the memory
along roads we didn't take
and off doors we didn't open . . .

So you slowly discharge yourself from a stable condition
out the right side of the bed to Stevie Wonder's 'Superstition'
get stuck into the bran flakes, seven cups of tea
then off into the bathroom for 'Abide With Me'

With your bri-nylon lucky pants steeped in folklore
responsible for every win since 1974
your rabbits foot inner soles and sprigs of lucky heather
and a Sainsbury's bag to put on your head in case of inclement weather

Boys, noise and inflatable toys on the road to glory
anecdotes, footnotes and the elaborate jackanory
full-on celebration as your colours are flown
then a politician's u-turn - you've left the tickets at home

But straight from the re-start you fall back in the groove
with re-mixed classics from yesteryear like ' we shall not be moved'
while space-hopper bladders require a master tactician
as once again you're caught offside in a promising position

To the edge of the killing fields
unable to relax
with tension and bravado
that common double act
a couple of lotions
to galvanise the nerves
a bag of low-fat crisps
and several body swerves
then into the auditorium
to take up your seat
for this, the one-off drama
starring victory and defeat

Dressed up, fired up
made up and messed up
all inside the first sixty seconds
ornamental, ironic
temperamental, harmonic
as the finger of fortune beckons

To celebrate or lament
to dance like your dad at a wedding
to bring on the Trojan Horse
or invest in official club bedding
to hug the big bloke behind you
to become a loudmouthed prat
to cry yourself a small river
to wear a court jesters hat

To be or not to be
that is the question
to believe or not to believe
in the power of suggestion

And those oh so special occasions
the ones that'll live forever
the Wembley assemblies and tales from Wales
with eleven men we'll forget never

But do we forget to remember
or remember to forget
when the dreams we buy into are broken
by eleven blokes we've never met