Thanks to Dave Ash of Trysull Tigers, who sent us this poem about grassroots football, inspired by watching his son playing for the under-9s and observing some of the parents who watch the games.
It’s football day and Dad wakes me up,
“Come on,” he says, “lets win this cup!”
I open my eyes and Dad’s standing there beaming,
These are the days of which he’s been dreaming!
I get my kit on and get in the car,
My Dad keeps calling me his little star.
With one eye on the road and one in the mirror,
He’s giving me advice on being a winner.
We get to the pitch and Dad’s spotted a scout,
Goes over to Jim and singles me out.
The game is then started by the referee,
And as usual Dad’s barking orders at me.
“Get forward, get back, get tight, get wide!”
I just want to run away and hide.
We lost the match, it wasn’t our day,
Dad’s shaking his head and walking away.
The coach rubbed my hair and said I played well,
But Dad’s not impressed, you can obviously tell.
My Dad didn’t speak all the way home,
So I went to my room and sat there alone.
I’m sorry I cause him so much frustration,
So I’m stopping at home next week on my PlayStation!
So come on Mom and Dad just let him enjoy,
‘Cause after all, he’s just a boy!
You can visit the Trysull Tigers website at www.trysulltigers.org.uk.
If you have a poem, or anything else a little bit different for the world of grassroots football, that you’d like to see featured in The Clubhouse, please email it to email@example.com.