The leather stitched oval
bounces up and up
towards the sky
and into the eyes
of all the players,
on the field and off,
who play this game
of fluctuations,
and to-and-fro,
from end-to-end.
And the crowd cheers
with the flying ball,
and the flags of passion
wave for team and colours
and fill their eyes
and become part
of their dreams,
part of transcending
the ordinariness
of their lives.
Through the kicks
and the passes,
the tackles, the goals
and the flying thrills,
this piece of
well-formed leather
finds the hands
of all the agents
of the match,
in their intimate
and shared striving
for the elusive Ark
of the Covenant,
the grand and mysterious
devotion of the game.
The ball becomes
the feature piece,
the iconic prop,
of this thrilling tale
that is an act of drama set
as if in theatres of old,
with heroes and villians,
pain and despair,
driven by the chance
of exhilaration and victory,
fame and the spoils of war.
The game ends
with tragedy for some
and vanquishment for others,
as the heroes revel,
like Achilles of the Trojan War,
and sing and shout
in the joy of the game
that has ended
with one ahead
and one behind.
Then from the arena,
which the Romans used
for their trials of
death and life,
the people with colour and flags
flow out the gates,
with sadness and smiles,
to their homes
and their jobs
and their ordinary lives.
They go home
and the lights go out,
and the flame of
football passion,
which once burnt and consumed,
is now but a vivid memory
in the minds of those
who witnessed and felt
its passion,
it triumph,
and its pain.
16/9/2016