The mother of all title deciders – Anfield 89

This one would be for the Hillsborough dead
As all of football stood united with the Red

Close em down versus pass and move
A match that would unquestionably raise the roof

A heaving Anfield glowing in victory neon
In anticipation of Stroller’s red and white battalion

For Graham’s starlets would be calling home to mum
There was no doubt as to what would be the outcome

Not the slightest trepidation as Smudger draws first blood
Kenny’s legion would render the Gunners season a dud
As the young pretenders would be bought down with a thud

There’s still no fluster as Rocky begins to sway
Lukic, Davis and Rico wished they could always play away

So too do O’Leary, Bould, Winters and Dixon
It’s a little too early though to do the Merson

As the double looms, “tighten up” the Kop demand
Due to Adams routinely patrolling the bank of England

One minute growls Macca as Aldo becomes lone attacker
For North London, the seasons been one hell of a cracker

As Brian Moore utters those never forgotten words
“It’s up for grabs now” the Gunners are spurred

“And Arsenal come streaming forward” the ball is launched back
“in what will surely be their last attack”

“A good ball by Dixon, finding Smith,”
“To Thomas, charging through the midfield,” he must act forthwith

“It's up for grabs now!”
The deranged Mooro takes a bow

Thommo cocks as a despairing Houghton lunges, to whom belongs glory?
The most furious finale, the rest as they say is history

© Emdad Rahman
www.football-poems.com

In my recurring dream he fluffs it!