No more jumpers thrown down, such a pity, such a shame.
It’s just a field now, not a ball to be seen,
It's places like this where someone spotted Roy Keane.
I dunno anymore – kids just don’t seem to care,
Up in their rooms on consoles, most probably stuck to a chair.
In my day it was get a ball, 'n throw some jumpers down,
No stepovers, diving or anyone actin' the clown.
Some dreamed of being Keegan, Coppell or Brady,
Ghetto blaster on, 'n it wasn’t playing slim shady.
18 lads here, it's gonna be good – but tough,
This was long before the days of Houghton, Quinn or Duff.
A collection of players from the neighbouring estates,
A time when ball was more important than going on dates.
Ye that mixture all added a bitta extra bite,
Plenty of scuffles, Offsides, but never a fight.
“You’re in goals” someone said, “No, it’s nearest to the net”,
Not a whistle in sight, barely time to get set.
“I'll get in for one, but you're in next”
Totally free as kids, no phones or text.
God, when I think of the footwear on show,
Gola, Dunlop and Sizzlers OH NO.
In later days we’d all wear the Adidas TRX trainer,
They looked so cool, it really was a no-brainer.
“Goal," he shouted and then jumped for joy,
Others screamed, “No” as the ball soared way up into the sky.
Who won? Ya see it wasn’t about the final score,
It had been about 8 hrs since I'd left my front door.
As darkness fell, 'n we wondered were the day had gone,
It was because someone had said, “Ah keep playin, next goal, come on”
Elbows, fair shoulders and tackles that’d give ya a fright,
But we all went home pals at the end of the night.
I know times have changed, that’s for sure,
Technology me arse. It ain't been a cure.
You can decide if it’s better or worse,
The playstation, xbox, I think they're a curse.
So many friendships, born outta the beautiful game,
No more jumpers thrown down, such a pity, such a shame.
It’s just a field now, not a ball to be seen,
I dunno when we’ll find another Roy or Robbie Keane.
KEITH KELLY
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