Poem 99 – 21 Goals

One arched iconic stadium
Welcomes two rivals to the pitch
With many in supporting roles
Holding up the thirty-two who play
The eighty thousand roaring on
Their hearts racing the ninety endless
Thrilling minutes then thirty more
Joyful, relentless and exhausting
And then as one they pause…
                                                      …breath held
As players line up one by one
In legal torture to decide
(this was always bound to be)
But surely none saw this ending
That after all those goalless minutes
The game would end with twenty scored
Leaving the goalies to decide
The outcome with a shot apiece
With trusted youngster shooting sure
And wily veteran striking high

It’s always tense being a Liverpool fan following a final, we never do it the easy way, but that was ridiculous(ly wonderful)!

© Ben Quant 2022