A Deeper Divide

Dreams herein, our progeny, still birth sometimes inside, blind and rigor twisted, formless foetuses upon the terrace steps where innocence bled and occasionally died screeching for salvation when every shred of hope was gone. Yet also soared in glorious flight, monstrous span of righteous flapping wings in the stadium sky, drummed thunderclaps, exultant fear insurgently began inflaming souls and lifting living spirits heaven high. Externalised, the primal chants and streaming scarves, the goading, cheering, praising adrenaline infusion, the fluid rush of gameplay, of two dovetailed halves painted on an emerald canvas with fleet of foot profusion. In a cloud of air horn banshees and muddied leather vapour where studded feet slap pigskin like a hated face spins a salt and vinegar smudged result newspaper telling tales of holy triumph or damnation and disgrace. Abused patriotism, the easy asylum of the scoundrel cur whose omnipresent wield of slick wet Stanley blade slashes carves desired resurgence of the way that things once were, for Nazi flags, stiff arm salutes and pencil black moustaches. Yet overriding all, the team and the game, the beautiful game and the chasm rift between each side as deep and wide as forever, the team is all, all is the team and will always be the same and whatever divides team from team let no man draw together.