Kicking a worn-out ball around the streets

The lucky ones did the same in a park

It was something to do with your mates

Better that having a lark

….

Jumpers or coats for the goal posts

Boots were your ordinary shoes

A ‘strip’ was out of the question

The oldest had the right to ‘choose’

….

The’ game’ itself had no special aura

Except the playing, and those you played with

This was the stuff of friendships

Building bonds, being collaborative

….

Then school taught the art of competition

Sides became teams and you needed to win

The result was what now mattered

The captain became the team kingpin

….

Commercialism entered the equation

The best could win money and fame

These became goals in themselves

The green-eyed god had its claws on the game

….

Fast cars, loose women, high living

Dreams of the working classes

A career for the few with real promise

Aspired to with rose tinted glasses