An Englishman to World Cups Past
That 1966 World Cup
_is but a memory,
awarded, so the Scotsmen claim,
_to England, quite unfairly.
Since then, our World Cup wilderness
_has had its ups and downs.
A dwarfish Argentinian
_denied us further crowns
as did the wily Croats of
_the checkered livery,
symbolic of our national team’s
_uneven history.
But worst of all was nineteen-nine-
_ty’s Cameroonian show;
we barely crossed the finish line,
_then fell to our old foe.
So, this year, North America
_is where our fans will roam,
and as with past World Cups, we’re sure—
_this time it’s coming home.
Paul A. Freeman is the author of Rumours of Ophir, a crime novel which was taught in Zimbabwean high schools and has been translated into German. In addition to having two novels, a children’s book and an 18,000-word narrative poem (Robin Hood and Friar Tuck: Zombie Killers!) commercially published, Paul is the author of hundreds of published short stories, poems and articles.
If not, there’s always American football to adopt and root for…
I wish your team good luck, Paul.
My neighbor is an Englishman
Who refereed football.
When England plays on my TV;
He comments on each call.
He’s smart and passionate, the team
he likes is Crystal Palace.
While cheering England on with other
teams he shows no malice.
But whether England leads halfway
Or leads close to full time.
He stands and leaves because he knows
The end will be a crime.
No matter what the score, he says,
Three Lion’s fans all know it;
The end will always be the same,
The English team will blow it.
But, as you say, maybe this year will be different.
As an aside, in 1966 I was in a French restaurant with my parents on July 20th. The restaurant’s TV was on while everyone watched England defeat France 2-0. It was assumed that because we spoke English we were either English or, if American or Canadian, we were biased towards England. We were subsequently ignored, service slow, food delivered to our table warm, and it took 30 minutes or longer before they would settle our bill. It was, of course, a historic moment. Ten days later when England defeated West Germany 4-2 in an overtime final, we were in Milan and since Italy had been bounced out of the first round by the Soviet Union and North Korea (Really! No kidding!) nobody seemed to care who we were or even who won.