I wrote this poem on March 3rd, 2017.

It was only two-and-a-half years ago but, with my recent loss of identity with Bradford City, and my love for the club – fast approaching forty years now – it seems a lifetime ago.

 

When Saturday comes and the sun burns high

From up in a pale blue Yorkshire sky.

We leave our house, we lock our door

Heading to that place where ‘oft before

We’ve cheered and laughed, we’ve sworn and cried

And played our part in the magic inside

That place of steel and concrete, of wood and stone

That they named Valley Parade but that we call home.

We meet with friends, in a pub in town

For a bite to eat and a Guinness to down.

For me, my faves, chips with a BLT

For you, perhaps, something healthy?

At the crowded bar with our drinks in hand

We check to see what team is planned.

The eleven looks good, the shape looks fine

We’ve power up front and a solid spine.

Gilliead and Marshall will maraud each wing

What will their tricksy footwork bring?

This pacey pair patrolling the flanks

Crossing to the strikers in our ranks.

New star Wyke wears our hallowed number nine

Once worn by Bobby in another time.

When Stuart, our boss, was just a youth

And played with passion, desire and truth.

With the sun cracking fair up in the sky

As slim, wispy clouds overhead skoot by.

It’s a perfect day to watch the boys

To feel the highs and to share the joys.

Among kindred souls in a tight-packed crowd

With young and old all singing loud.

On such a day, where would you rather be?

So come on, join us. Be part of #TeamTwenty.