Category Archives: Sport

Who’s basketballs best, LeBron or Mike? The president weighs in with his humble opinion.

Offensive, Foul.

Don likes Mike,
Don loathes LeBron,
They both dislike
Singularly unlikeable Don.

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Trumps new target, basketballs LeBron James- This is going to be less a genteel game, more a free-for-all.

Textbook Play.

Is Donald a good sport when it comes to fun and games?
Not when he’s going tweet to tweet with LeBron James,
Don fakes, he twists, he spins to the Right- true to form;
Again poor sport Don has started a pointless twit storm.

World cup, England heading home empty handed, but hey, tomorrow’s a bright new day! Isn’t it? Positively.

No Direction Home.

The England party struck boldly forth
To a knees-up in Putin’s welcoming North,
Supporters hopes, then expectations increased
As they watch another unexpected sun rise in the East.

After England’s semi-disappointment they’re heading South
Going from up for the cup to looking down in the mouth,
Even as the sun sinks and Englands high hopes go West
Fourth place seems strangely better than second best.

The soccer/football World Cup, England, the semi-finals, and finally, a reason to believe?

Getting The Cross In.

It was months and months of Sundays back I began to doubt
The words Father McEvedy would by rote routinely spout,
But this July St George has never seen anyone so devout,
For it feels the world is about to end
When your World Cup hopes depend
On England miraculously winning a penalty shoot-out.

So many years as a lapsed Catholic and an avowed atheist,
The cold comfort of the confessional, all too easy to resist,
Yet I’m rattling the old rosary, praying, hoping for an assist,
Perhaps He might help out Southgates squad-
Argentina don’t need a helping hand from God,
Good Lord, what better reason to prove You exist?

England go to the world cup with no expectations, but perhaps this time hopes might not fade away, like the last time, and the time before and the time before that, and… (Best wishes and good luck from the Antipodes.)

Reboot.

I woke this morning, from a fevered dream,
My mind had dreamt of a winning England team,
So I shook my woolly head, threw off the duvet,
Rose to face the reality of watching England wilt away.

But this game had a result few could anticipate,
A smile wreaths the dial of gloomy Gareth Southgate,
I shake my stunned head, I stroke my gaping jaw,
Am I dreaming still or is this England in the final four?

Was it half a century ago Geoff Hurst won our hearts?
When the pop of ‘Mothers Little Helper’ topped the charts?
Dare I dream of those good ol’ days, of glories long gone,
Of 1966, since when all but the Rolling Stones have rolled on?

Oh, this is something long hoped for, if truly unexpected,
High time for the faded old red white ‘n’ blue to be resurected?
So, up to the loft I’ll go to disinter that trusty dusty back-pack;
Lets see if time’s been kind to a cheap-jack souvenir Union Jack?

A sporting great moves on to that great big dressing shed in the sky. ‘Bye, Ferg.

Red And Black And Blue.

Fergie McCormick was hard as nails, tough as teak,
What carnage on the rugby field he would wreak,
Yet he had a charitable as well as a rambunctious streak,
There would always be
A card of sympathy
When you woke up sometime well into next week.

Aussie cricket in a lather, thanks to a sense of bullet proof belief that cheating isn’t that big a deal. Ah, yes it is, still.

All Class Ass.

 Who’s that sitting in the naughty corner?
Why, it’s ex Vice-captain David Warner;
Pugnacious Davey is now counting the cost
Of cheating to win, but how much has he lost?

Its not the Vice-captaincy loss that makes him bite his lip,
It’s those millions for playing in India, and his sponsorship,
All he did was try to ‘manipulate an advantage’ to win…
For the soul of him David can’t see why that is a sin?

For Davey it’s just not cricket for 365 more days,
Time a’plenty to tote up the cost of his cheatin’ ways;
Someones gone and taken away Davey’s bat and ball
Yet it feels like he’s getting his just deserts after all.