Football

Poem 691 – Belief

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I hear they’re calling it Slottage Time,
That moment in the dying breath,
When time stands still and waits and waits,
Until the ball flies in the net.

Perhaps we’re riding on a wave
Of luck that surely must run out,
But until then we wait and wait,
And wait for it without a doubt.

It might be nice for once to win
Before the extra time is shown
Not needing to wait on and on
Until the final kick flies home.

‘But where’s the fun in that?’ I say
There’s nothing like the adrenaline rush
From tension building up and up
Exploding with the final touch.

For the fifth time in fife games, Liverpool somehow managed to win tonight in the final moments of the match. It’s now no longer a surprise but expected.
(17.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Chris Knight on Unsplash

Poem 575 – Hansen & Van Dijk

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From one giant to another,
colossi in defence,
composed and fleet of foot,
poetic in elegance.

Well versed in form and motion,
bewitching with their rhyme,
possessing the canny knack,
of arriving just in time.

These masters of their art,
one hand on either handle,
bridging generations,
the passing of the mantle.

Liverpool FC were awarded the Premier League Trophy today, with a hero of my childhood, Alan Hansen, passing the trophy to Virgil van Dijk, a hero of today.
(25.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Source of photo unknown

Poem 421 – Fourth Round

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Here’s to the underdog,
For taking your chance,
For standing up straight,
And repelling the advance.
For keeping your heads,
Despite losing your teeth,
Miraculous saves,
As the fans start to scream.
Here’s to the underdog,
On overcoming the trial,
And ending on top,
The great Plymouth Argyle!

As a Liverpool fan, it pains me to say it, but hats off to Plymouth today – especially their two new defenders and goalkeeper who were brilliant. I loved the celebrations at every tackle made, it said a lot about the spirit that the new manager has brought to them.
(09.02.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Daniel Norin on Unsplash

Poem 366 – Currently 2-0

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I should be writing a poem,
But it’s been a busy day,
Dealing with toddlers,
Shifting food,
Discussing the Bible,
Talking to church members,
Now the day’s done, and
Liverpool are beating Madrid,
So this will have to do.

Hopefully that’s game, set and match (to mix sports!)
(27.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Jannes Glas on Unsplash

Poem 149 – Fine Margins

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Did it cross the line they ask?
Some say yes and others no.
The difference? Joy or sorrow.
The wings of feeble butterflies,
Can change the world one flap at a time,
And sliding doors the path of love.
Our lives are precariously balanced,
On the precipice of decision.
One step is all it takes to start,
An avalanche of consequences,
With cascading implications.
The right of this depends upon,
The angle of our vision, so,
Be kind my friends and act with grace.
The weight of this weighs down upon,
Their shoulders too, the ones that you,
Are quick to comment on. Be slow,
In case the camera turns on you.

I found myself drawn into last nights dramatic and controversial events in the World Cup. Was Japan’s goal a goal? Did the curvature of the ball cross the line or not? I don’t know! Got me thinking of the film Sliding Doors, Doctor Who’s ‘Turn Left’, Ray Bradbury’s ‘A Sound of Thunder’ and the Butterfly Effect.
(02.12.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 124 – Hallowed Stands

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The game’s afoot, it’s all still on
A thousand possibilities
That might transpire before this season’s
Last match is played and whistle blown

From hallowed stands the crowd embolden
Their vantage point affords them sight
Of opportunities and threats
Yes, passionately they roar us on

So keep your eyes upon the goal
Follow your humble captain, brave
Who leads the way in giving all
Know this, you’ll never walk alone

On Tuesday Liverpool FC rescued the chance of an historical quadruple, turning a 2-0 deficit to a 2-3 victory. Songs from the stands cheer us on.
(06.05.22)

© Ben Quant 2022

Poem 99 – 21 Goals

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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)!
(28.02.22)

© Ben Quant 2022