If I got seriously injured during
A soccer game and
Started crying,
It would not be because of the
Pain of the injury.
It would be because I was worried
I couldn't keep playing.

I started watching football when I was eight

At that moment I had everything to hate



The next day I went with the squad

I played with a poor morale



Than as the time passed by

People said Ronaldo in Madrid is *****



Than as the Manuel Neur got the fame

Messi got him chipped later in the game



In June they compared Andre Gomes with James

For real? Thats just lame



Merle said "Football players are like prostitutes"



They said "Giroud comes to show off his beard"

Footballers like Yahya dont even drink beer



While some footballers go to the club when they hit the big time

Tottenham striker said "He cant remember going to a club last time"



Bayern Munich bailed out Dortmund with a loan in the past

Oil money of PSG on Neymar gave me a flabbergast..

Fanatics fixed their eyes upon
The screen to cheer their team
The mood there in the air was tense
Tricolor seemed out of steam

The clock was counting down
The time was drawing nigh
Doomed to lose and head on home
Bid Russia their goodbye

An errant shot deflected out
Gave them one last chance
To score a goal and prance about
Show off their famous dance

From the corner, the ball soared in
A hero rose above
Mina smacked it with his head
And won his country's love

England shocked to see the win
Snatched right from their grasp
Colombia delirious
Successful at last gasp

And thus the game was sent along
Into the overtime
Two periods were played to nil
Two teams full in their prime

Penalties would now decide
Which team would advance
The locals glued to their tvs
The nation in a trance

Falcao scores! Kane as well!
Cuadrado, Rashford too!
Muriel then strikes one home
Tricolor up three to two!

Ospina blocks the next one
Hypes up the frenzied crowd
But Uribe hits the crossbar
And the silence echoes loud

Trippier knots it up again
We're down to final shots
Bacca fails to get his through
Past Pickford's valiant swat

Fate rests upon this final kick
Well placed with perfect spin
Just past Ospina's outstreched hands
Dier seals the win

The cafeteros reel from shock
No sign of jubilation
But still the crowd, crushed in defeat
Show their appreciation

Colombia eliminated
We give them all a hand
And though their World Cup here is done
I'm now their biggest fan

Soccer is the sport
Which my heart belongs to
Kicking a ball into a goal
Under a sky so blue

Yesterday a game
Was played quite nicely
Until the end
When we became less feisty

A kickoff to start
The beginning of the game
Not many spectators
As it's not of fame

Trying to get the ball
Like a good player should
I get backhanded in the face
Hard
Knocked to the ground as I should

The refs call no fouls
As they favor the other team
It made me so mad
Since my lip had begun to bleed

Further into the game
The ball comes towards me
Nails me in the stomach
Making me want to scream

The halftime whistle blows
We get off the field
To go over the game plan
And take a time to chill

Getting back on the field
Determined to tie the game
We get the kickoff
The ball our claim

So ways into the game
Another player crashes into me
I fall to the ground in pain
Because I twisted my knee

I'm taken off the field
Another player goes in my place
But it didn't really matter
The game was over with grace

It wasn't our best game
But we've certainly had worse
Next time we'll score
And hopefully, no one will get hurt

once captain
fore thorn
that soccer
made her
calling such
a crown
then in
Balboa as
she lately
resides a
homophobic and
Gold Pride
hence a
bride and
a southern
school maven  
in heaven.

That passion
When you see the ground
That passion
When you hear the crowd
There’s nothing quite like it
When you hear them all sing
The fans are in unison
To watch their team win

Until it all goes wrong
Then you change your song
You give them stick
And think
Why do I support this ****
They make me sick
They’re not worthy
To wear that shirt
Over paid wankers
Playing like dirt

We want our money back
I’m not paying my wage
To watch that crap
Then you hit the town
And then you drown
Your sorrows in drink
And then you think
I love my team
But they make my heart sink
Deep down you feel the pain
Until next week
When it all starts again

New boy, old shoes,
but he seems to know how.
Girl studies, furrowed brow.
Would you show me?
He grins.
You bet.

Brown girl, white boy
share soccer tricks
(fakes, spin kicks)
like tango steps
on the grassy field.

Lips clenched, Tania pauses
to repair beaded braids.
Tight shorts, mighty thighs,
her body a dark diamond
centered in the hips.

Tony smiles lots, curly red hair,
his head a pumpkin
on a pale post.

Nimble feet
for the ball compete,
their only touch.

After one-on-one,
three laps they run
side by side, chatting, unaware
they are perfectly aligned
in rise and fall of
knee to knee,
right to right,
cleat to cleat,
left to left.

Walking to the street, Tony chats,
Tania listens cradling ball to her chest
as they wander in synchrony,
step to step,
breath to breath,
making a start
heart to heart.