A simple poem for anyone who loves rugby league |
GRAND FINAL DAY The pigskin thumped with a leather clad foot Into enemy territory flies Hits the prop on the chest and he takes the first hit Of the biggest game of their lives Weeks and months of blood sweat and tears Comes down to the next eighty minutes The backs with their speed, the half back his wit Forwards’ toughness all stretched to their limits It’s the first set of six for a ten metre gain Yeah, this is gonna be tough Nowhere to hide or to rest for a bit They wonder if they’ve trained well enough The half back kicks long from inside the twenty For the first loose and feed of the game Fifteen out from the line sends his forwards to hit Through defence that’s starting to wane Tackle four said the ref and the half has a look At a gap he could drive a truck through He throws a short ball to his young number six There’s an overlap three blokes to two The centres are drawn the winger, he fears He has to take one or the other The five eighth cuts two, they’re accustomed to this The long lateral goes to his brother That deft sleight of hand split the back line in twain The winger dives over the stripe Four points to nil with a kick to make six They can protest as much as they like The home side kicks back there’s been action aplenty This time a shallow restart The prop on the ten looking for his try fix Starts a bullocking run up the park Still pumped and on fire from that last run he took The prop is stopped dead in his tracks The hooker runs in with his own bag of tricks One more forward then out to the backs A pass to the blind and the quick winger nears The touch line with options cut short He's gonna run out and so inside he flicks A short pass to his running support The tackle count’s up with the kicker restrained Possession turned over-no scrum The away captain says “boys, we can do this” Now we’ll play to the beat of our drum The contest grinds on now its fourteen to twenty The home team's not doing so well It would have been closer but the last goal kick missed Now its oranges ‘cause of the bell The away team kicks off; the home half has a look At his side that he’s moving and shaking The five eighth thinks quickly and grubbers a kick For a try that’s there for the taking He follows it up, the crowd claps, roars and cheers Then on the bounce takes the pill running Slides over the line right under the sticks Well pleased with his foresight and cunning The kicker steps back from the footy well aimed At the posts his focus-the ball The touchies hold up little flags upon sticks The scores are now locked-twenty all There it remained the tension ascending The time was fast running out The away captain yells “Lets just hold em for six” And the simple demand spread about With seconds to go they played by the book The away team could see they could win The crafty young half back had just one last trick Mustered forwards to move the ball in The siren went off amid deafening cheers The half back called for the ball He steadied himself for a long range drop kick Straight through and the winner takes all Straight as a die and that’s the game The home team falls in a heap Away fans, players and families mix The home players wonder and weep The final score ended up twenty-one twenty To a roar and a deafening cheer If the kicks were all straight, home team wins it by six And don’t tell me there’s always next year |