When passion for the game
overrules the sodden brain it’s time
to leave the bitching scene.
If top-class referees can only please
a sense of fractured whimsy
when the chips are down
I’d rather be a mile away.
And thus it was today.
This game is owned by Pay
TV – the only thing that could
explain why ancient rules are
waived or put away, interpretations
pave a sense of mute and sceptical
suspense - making watchers lose their
way. It was the people’s and the player’s
game until the Barons paid the
salaries. And now it is at least
a clichéd beggar’s feast as bad as
Big Time Wrestling,
but without the best
and the worst
of their ham acting…
© 2007-02-23, I.D. Carswell
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