Bayleigh
Stood on the pitch, feel mighty and tall, can’t wait for the hit, can’t wait for the ball, I’ve trained really hard, my body feels strong, score under the posts, they’ll be singing my song, my opposite number, looks pretty small, quick join the forwards, starting a maul, I push and I push, right shoulder in, I fall to the floor, big boot on my shin, it hurts pretty bad, but that’s what I love, the pain of the tackle, the pain of the shove, the cold and the heat, playing rugby all year, with men who are crazy, but incredibly dear, beasts that are gents, who call the ref sir, two seconds ago, that fight was a blur, this beautiful sport, kicks off on the pitch, the bar is for songs, and laughter and Rich, friendships that grow, regardless of club, this is a family, this is pure love, we bleed the same blood, and chuck up the same sick, woke up on Sundays, feeling the hits , Monday brings more aches, but it’s back to work, red bull and codeine, our breakfast our quirk, it’s Monday night, we’re at it again, moaning and groaning, but still have to train, smelly old kit, we forgot to wash, Rola cola bottle, filled up with squash, the cold nights aren’t bad, we get muddy and soggy, nice cold pint after, dinner’s in the doggy, it’s more of a lifestyle, bigger than sport, dick of the day, kangaroo court, the older you get, the more that you miss, my bodies a mess, memories a bliss, wouldn’t change a thing, the good and the bad, the next greatest player, is calling me dad.
Copyright © Lee Steemson | Year Posted 2019
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