There is a game that is played,
watched, followed, talked about,
written about, commented on,
that has its origins that can be
traced back hundreds of years,
which is like a religion to its enthusiasts
and to those who are genuinely fanatical
about everything to do with it -
from the league tables which indicate
how certain teams are doing in relation to one another,
as well as the names and the history of certain players
and their career from beginning to end…
every game that is played around the world
has energetic and enthusiastic supporters
who either attend or watch their chosen teams play,
and for every group of fans of every sport
every week of every season can feel like
a rollercoaster ride of emotions -
because just like in every game
there are winners and there are losers,
there are champions and there are those
who sometimes find themselves relegated
to the lower league of their peers;
however, in my experience, the players, the supporters,
the attention, and the opinions that are generated
by the game of football (or soccer)
are among some of the most passionate
and the most vocal that there are -
because some people love the game of football
and the particular team that they support so much
that they even sometimes go so far as to tattoo
their name and their crest upon their skin…
football (or soccer, as it is referred to in some places)
is a game and a sport that has captured
the hearts and the minds of millions of people
from all walks of life and from all around the world -
from the young to the old -
and when some people either go to a football match,
watch a football match, or listen to a football match being played,
it is like they are witnessing something that matters to them
on a deep, meaningful, and emotional level,
and especially at certain times of the season,
and most potently when there is
an international tournament being played
and teams from different countries are playing one another -
like during the FIFA World Cup that is hosted
in a different country every four years…
and there is seemingly no end
to how much time and money
certain people will devote and dedicate
to their favourite sport and their favourite team -
from merchandise to teams jerseys
which are worn to show a particular allegiance
to a certain team over all the others;
because certain people feel such a profound
connection and a loyalty to the team of players
that they have associated themselves with
that nothing and no one could stop them
from losing faith in their belief that their team
will some day be victorious and make it all the way
to the final game and win competition of a particular season -
until there is a natural period between seasons
when transfer windows open up
and certain players are traded and transferred to other teams,
and then the waves of speculation
about what is going to happen next start to rise
and start to occupy the imaginations of those people
who live, breathe, talk about, and think about football
morning, noon, and night…
the sport, the game, and the players of football
sometimes mean more to some people than their own family -
because, to some people, football gives them
so much pleasure, so much joy,
and also an opportunity to be able to be
on the same level with other fans who they may not know
but who they share a common interest with
that they can immediately establish a connection about;
and I honestly believe that to some people,
to some extent, football is the best thing there is -
and that is why, to some people,
football is more than a sport
and is in essence “The Beautiful Game”.
game
My Poem ‘Behind the baseline’
Behind the baseline,
standing diagonally,
opposite each other,
almost at the edge of the court,
two racket rocket tennis players
face-off against each other –
one waiting to serve hard and fast,
the other waiting with anticipation
with their body flooded with adrenaline,
as they try to psyche themselves up
and read the body-language of the other player,
hoping to get a touch and a contact
with the fast moving almost-invisible tennis ball
and return it over to the other side of the net
before it can be counted as an “ace”
as it flies past.
The striped green grass of the court glows;
the white lines of the boundaries are pure white;
the audience in attendance are silent and are hypnotized;
the first and the only sound that can be heard
is the moment when the player who is serving
tosses the tennis ball that they are holding in the air
and they hit it hard, far, through, high to low.
Within a split-second,
after that first hit,
the two athletes spring into action
and run to meet their competitors return;
the two players’ hearts race,
their finally-tuned instincts are heightened,
their skin burns under the hot sun,
they think, they swing their rackets,
they run and they run and they run…
all they are thinking about
is reaching the glowing ball of energy
and using the strings of the racket-head
to keep the ball of their game “in” and not “out!”
Tennis is a sport of strategy, skill,
athleticism, rivalry, thought, and preparation;
tennis players are held in high-regard,
and they are renowned and they are championed
as being as close to the perfect sportsperson
as anyone could be;
tennis has the magic about it
to capture you and strike you
with complete fascination
and inflame your imagination,
and it can even galvanize the people of an entire nation;
tennis players walk in the same circles
and they brush shoulders with rock-stars,
and they are considered heroes in their own right
because of their unbelievable natural ability.
As the rally of a set goes on,
as the crowd watching in the stands
become more and more captivated,
as the flight of the tennis ball
and what side of the court it is on
continues to be the sole focus
of everyone’s attention,
even those who are just watching
and who are not playing
are living for every bounce, hit, return, and point.
Bounce after bounce,
serve after serve,
as the scores are announced from the umpire,
everybody tries to keep cool,
keep hydrated, keep their nerve.
When the match is done and won,
and the victorious player
raises their racket high into the air,
the relief that is felt all around
by everybody who is there is palpable
and it is enough to bring both players to tears;
and when the champion of the game
takes their victory lap
and enjoys and takes in the crowds adulation
and rapturous cheers,
it is then that people remember where they are
and the minutes and the hours of the time;
and as everyone in the stands and on the court
collects their things and leaves
to return to the outside world,
everybody is still in awe,
and they can still remember every second
and every shot that they saw,
as they watched a remarkable game of tennis take place
from just behind the baseline.
My Poem ‘The Game of Life’
Life is a game –
or so it can seem, feel,
appear, and sometimes sound like;
life is a game,
that is full of players, users,
journeys, questions, and answers –
and as I get older and wiser,
and as I happen upon one person after another,
and as I have encounter after encounter,
I see people playing a game
that they might not even be aware that they are playing,
or participating in;
however, I see things that most people
might not think to think about, or look for:
I see plans, strategies, intentions, and manipulation;
people are generally creatures of habit,
and when I see someone doing something
that they do not always do
I know to prepare for a change in the pattern
and in the behavior of someone or something I know
that I might not completely have seen before.
Life is constantly changing –
however, the rules of life stay the same and cannot change;
life is a constant moment
that is continuously taken for granted –
as are people, and that is why life and time
can sometimes feel like a cage.
There are always different lives, different sides,
and everybody is dancing to a tune;
there are people of all colours and kinds –
there are some people who feel like their best in the sun,
and there are some people who prefer to be out all night
and bask and even howl wild
while under some kind of influence
under the light of the moon.
Light, and dark;
night, and day;
Clown fish, and sharks;
dies, and cards;
snakes, and ladders;
extremes of colour
that appear more vibrant
in a world that shifts constantly
through every shade of grey.
People can get used;
people can get hurt;
people can get treated one minute
like an exciting front-page story,
and then the next they can be relegated to yesterday’s news.
As someone who watches the world,
as someone who watches people,
as someone who wears the scars of a battle,
like someone who has been cut by knife,
I have seen so much,
I have felt so much,
I have done so much,
and I am starting to understand so much,
and though I do not wholly believe yet
that all the world is a game of players,
I do believe that someone people
are actively playing a game
that to them is a way of life.
Mark The Poet 