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That guy’s not an Eagle,” I protested indignantly, “he’s a condor.” I was hoping for a flag but none were thrown. It’s Sunday afternoon and several of us, Leong, Sunny, Anna, Lisa and her new BF Dave (well, he isn’t ‘new,’ he’s 26) and I are watching an NFL football game. The Eagles vs the Jets. So we asked you to get involved on social media by sending in your prose, dedicated to your favourite clubs and players. Now with players on wages that could fund a small city, yet desire has lessened which seems such a pity.
Football Poems - Modern Award-winning Football Poetry : All
By Chris Greenhouse: Gabby Agbonlahor: Yes, he can score. He's done it before, but it happens no more. Someone show him the door. Mad-lettuce-disease!” I proclaimed, “Those people are eating the ‘vegetables’ they grow!” Giving the word ‘vegetables’ the same scorn I might lavish on ‘cigarettes’.
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Andy Harris: Sergio Aguero a world class act, the best in the league and that's a fact. Unlike Yaya you never hear him moan, he can play with a partner or can be deadly alone. They once fed a goat and then he would score, now we have an Argentine that the whole club adores. With the ball at his feet he tears defences apart, his goals aren't like sport they are more like an art. That’s where all our vegetables come from,” I said, “the red states on the electoral maps,” I clarified even further.
Football Poems - Best Poems For Football - Poem Hunter
There’s a platter of wings, fries, celery and dips on the low-white table for grazing and everyone’s multitasking while watching the game. Leong, Lisa and I on iPads, Anna, and Dave are on laptops and Sunny has a book. I’m rooting for the Jets, although they’re the underdogs and given little chance. Dave’s for the Eagles, he believes they’re SuperBowl bound, and he may be right. A huge Eagles lineman bust through the Jets o-line, throwing QB Zach Wilson to the tuf, “Jeez,” Anna said. Do you know,” I reasoned extemporaneously, “that a diet of nothing but healthy prime-rib or ribeye steak can practically eliminate the chance of coming down with mad-lettuce-disease?”I could be a songwriter, you know,” I said, “just give up this life of college drudgery and hang with T-Swift”. No one denied my obvious talent. I want players to think of the badge not the pay, before the sport I once loved starts to slowly ebb away. Dear John Terry... Short and sweet MA Kersley pumps up the volume on Coup de Boule by Sébastien and Emmanuel Lipszyc. “It’s about the 2006 World Cup final, with the truly magnifique translated chorus: ‘Zidane hit it, Zidane beat it, headbutt!’”