Watching Hyde United with my Dad and his Dad

in the open, opposite the seating, I never asked

what it was that they were thinking

They’d applaud if Hyde scored, or came close,

and sigh if the goal came from our opponents

but whatever happened
on the pitch felt manageable,

within the realm of acceptable emotion

Usually, it was bitter cold

I saw patterns

evolving, the constant realignment
of positions as play developed, moved
one way and then the other. We were close
enough to the action to smell the embrocation

footballers wore against the weather

Winter Green (don’t put it near your genitals)
I doubt it was unique or clever,

what it was that they were thinking,

Dad and Grandad. Wilf and Norman

But I never asked them. I should have

They might have warned me

I learnt the painful way
about Winter Green

Steven Taylor





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