An Ode to Soccer

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Battle on the Pitch

(An Ode to Soccer)

They dress in pressed uniforms and lace up polished boots

Hair styled to make a statement

Hoping to fuel propaganda

Evaluating many years of training

Sweat trickles down their brows

Lined up in formation, they march down the tunnel

Emerging onto the battle pitch

Enemies absorb their surroundings

Trumpets blare, voices thunder

Opposing forces waving flags

Tempers flare on painted faces

Listen to their violent cries

Stoic they stand while the anthems of nations play

Anxiously they wait to enter into combat

In the distance

Over the cacophony

They finally hear the whistle

The ground shakes

Opponents clash

The captain yells out orders

Attackers dive

Defenders lose ground

One side is heading to the slaughter

Battles rage on, day after day

Blood is spilled

Players ejected

Most dreams end in failure

Few move on, for the next round is reserved

For those who do not falter

Riots erupt, fueled by devoted followers

Refusing to accept defeat

Each day a new hero’s crowned

Worshipped across a nation

And in his hometown

At the culmination of a tumultuous month

The last victor stands triumphant

Hoisting the golden statue in the air – the symbol of a champion

That’s the beauty of the World Cup