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Things Get Lost


Remember your first football match,
The thrill you felt back then, the joy,
Imagine that is happening now,
A little girl, a little boy,

I’ve thought of that a lot this week,
How childlike wonder serves us well,
Instead of watching through our fingers,
At some descent to New Year Hell.

I have a friend whose kids’ first game Was Newcastle,
and they were thrilled,
Why can’t we stay like that forever,
How is that pure joy distilled?

There’s nothing we can do from here,
Except for hope they turn it round,
And take the ones we love with us,
To share these days inside the ground,

We’ll hear those standard platitudes,
They’ll promise to train harder now,
As if running more on frosty pitches,
Will make the team improve somehow.

Don’t dwell on what you can’t affect,
We’ve half a season – more – to go,
A mountain, sure, they’ll have to climb
But mountains can be climbed, you know.