Big sister on the bus beside me
Sits there, takes me across the road
Three changes before we get to training.
Sits there, no boyfriend for company,
Takes me across the road,
Sits there, three buses back,
Makes me laugh, loves me just because
She sits there. She gave me
The best day of my life
When I could buy my mum a house
To sit in. But she didn’t fuss.
She didn’t want to own a bus.
When I was in the homeless shelter
The other kids made fun
When I had two jobs
The lads in the bar made fun
But on the field was joy
So when I ran on the Bulgar grass
To monkey chants
“Did you hear that?”
I stood my ground, upon my field,
My field of joy became a field
Of courage, where I wouldn’t yield
So it would stay a joyous field
For the kids that follow.
“Did you hear that?”
“I’m not the one you want but will I do?”
I said, to two small kids
Whose heroes had walked past
As if their little hearts had not a beat in them
Or nothing that was worth the time
I took, to make my sign
Across their books, so they could see
In future days, although the lines
Were only penned by me,
That they weren’t nothing.
“I’m not the one you want but will I do?”
My struggle was mine, but my purpose
Was theirs. It went beyond me –
Beyond the crosses, the passes, the goals
To reach out to the little souls
Who hungered. Whose futures
Depended on a healthy start.
Their meals were society’s sutures.
Little Belle’s glad tears gushed
Thanks to a sweat-stained shirt from me.
She caused a pause, as off I rushed
To celebrate our victory.
We’re there to test, not who’s the best,
But our humanity.
For her, along with all the rest,
It’s more than a game, you see.
We don’t train ‘cos we are the best
We train because we’re not.
And even those who are the best, are just the best we’ve got.
Our teachers, they looked out for us,
So that our dreams might grow
Through hard work on and off the field
And reaping what we sow.
Hard work was what my mother did
At her two jobs. My dad was never good
At staying out of trouble, though he tried,
Was rarely in the neighbourhood
Most often back inside.
I helped out in a pizza place
I wished that he could see
The smile that lit my mother’s face
When they named one after me.
My parents never thought this day
Would come when I was named.
They wanted me to bring happiness
To others, so they claimed.
And my role models weren’t bad boys
Like Gazza and George Best
But the Premiership captains
Who support the NHS.
It’s our responsibility, it stares us in the face
It’s everywhere around us, at each time, in every place.
We’re there in the arena, every hour of every day
We know we must step forward and we can’t just walk away.
And our failure doesn’t daunt us,
Though we hurt like other men
We rise, in love and dignity, and then we go again.
But there are others in this land and they are England too,
Who scorn us when we take the knee, they shout abuse and boo
And mendacious politicians, who these actions don’t condemn
Till they hear the public outcry, and see votes in it for them.
Tribes who squabble over lockdown, vaccinations, wearing masks
Over what it was they voted for, and sending immigrants back
In a land where public services seem just about to break
Still return their votes for politicians on the take.
Though kids get stabbed by other kids
And women get attacked
By officers with records
Who’re supposed to have their back
They jeer opponents’ national anthems with their choruses of hate
And laser pens are Ascalon ² – ‘cos that’s what made us great.
But there’s an England of tomorrow
And it lies within our grasp
Though we’re going to have to build it
And we have to own the task.
These lions have embodied it
They’ve let us hear their voice
Which of these will be your England?.
How will you make your choice?
¹This poem was originally a response to the online racist attacks against the three black England footballers who missed penalties in the delayed Euro 2020 final against Italy (played in 2021). It draws on statements made by the three players, and others, and the manager. Those familiar with the squad may want to try to identify the individuals. Many are no longer involved with the squad, but the issues and attitudes haven’t gone away. Recent ironic “Unite the Kingdom” demonstrations suggest that the underlying situation may be even darker, as the English flag is appropriated by unaccountable bodies, many with offshore interests, to promote division. But as recent results may portend, a new England team motivated by renewed organic rather than symbolic togetherness could be emerging, so I felt it might be worth revisiting the broader case for cautious optimism.
² St George’s dragon-slaying lance
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Stephen A. Linstead
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