Step on the field, hangover wasting away.
We’ve had a hair of the dog, started the drinking day.
The whistle blows to start, the ball is hit.
You wish you’d trained harder, cause you feel unfit.
The clicking of the ball, quickens your heartbeat.
You’re on a roll but someone yells, “ref it hit her feet!”
Its goes against you now, and they whack it up the pitch.
You look to the player who called it ,thinking what a silly snitch
They drive the ball real hard, with everything they’ve got,
Right into the circle, a forward takes a shot.
The goalie yells instructions, defense is out of luck.
The ball flies at her head, the sweeper shouts duck!
The whistle blows for time, the coach gives a shout.
Walking to the huddle, on every face a pout.
Coach says we have to move, open up a gap.
You’re trying hard to listen but you need to take a nap.
What is it we say? It’s about the taking part?
In spite of this, the second half gets off to a great start.
Defender starts to stumble, the play is moving really quick.
The ref gives a penalty, the captain shouts “flick”.
You step up to the task, you stand up tall and proud.
In your head hearing yells of an (imaginary) crowd.
The flukey flick goes in, though it’s not a skill you’ve mastered.
Every player on your team thinking “great let’s go get plastered”.
Brought to you by Anon. G.