BECAUSE THEY CAN PLAY F'CKING GOOD FOOTBALL: PART 2
This week, as Manchester United's season unfolds, 'the ballad of Ed Woodward', 'o Cristiano', Erik ten Hag's memory, and a shocking away defeat. Part one, which is free, can be found underneath...
through the days
late summer
autumn
winter
spring
the ingot coloured afternoons and eves
of May
this:
this
is
Manchester United
De aap komt uit de mouw
(Dutch proverb: the monkey comes out the sleeve)
PART 2
page 12
the death of Queen Elizabeth II
Richard Arnold, the chief executive, had a pow wow with Andrew Ward, the head of media,
Collette Roche, the chief operating officer, was in attendance too;
Andrew W stood in the front row of the posh seats
where they leave Sir Matt Busby’s chair at No 1 empty always
AW
discoursed across to
Richard A and C Roche who gathered in the back row of the punter seats,
above the dugouts;
they discoursed; maybe about
Uefa ordering the game ON after Queen Elizabeth II was announced as deceased
is a guess
they all moved to the posh seats and
Richard Arnold:
a 27th sense had him breaking
off from the chat
for a moment
and
staring straight across, nodding,
call it a grin,
as in: i’ve seen you -
then they continued on…
Later that night, The Guardian:
Football was an obvious irrelevance after the evening’s news but, once Uefa ruled the game should go ahead, Manchester United duly fulfilled their Europa League fixture against Real Sociedad.
The death of Queen Elizabeth II threw a veil of sorrow over Old Trafford and a heartfelt tribute before kick-off brought those present together in a minute’s silence in respect to the monarch. The players and officials wore black armbands, the flags over the stadium flew at half-mast, pitch-side advertising hoardings were turned off, and United issued a statement that offered condolences and gratitude for the monarch’s “immense contribution to public life”.
Once the game got under way, Erik ten Hag’s side ended with a first ever defeat to the Spanish club and first in five matches because of a controversial second-half Sociedad penalty, so United are already playing catch-up in the group stage.
page 13
the ballad of Ed Woodward
have you seen a dude called Ed Woodward?
do you know him?
some people do, some don’t.
a nice dude, a gent, a man they tried to disdain on social media
that’s what millions a-year
helming man utd
being chirpy/trying to do the right thing and being swallowed up/out of your depth
can get you.
who would do it? the job he used to hold before Richard Arnold? everyone?? no one???
this is the true ballad of Ed Woodward
page 14
O Cristiano
you burned up Old Trafford turf
you were the maestro
the young kid with TNT in your boots
if TNT is a poem played on toes that tinkle like Mozart in the meadows surrounded by a buttercup choir
the way you turn opponents outside in
akin
to a Hirst Shark, a Bacon triptych,
Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch
by H Miller
you are a force
like the winds are hurricanes in your feet
Madeira calling
the tin roof shack
where you were raised
a father dead sadly now
who this scribe tracked down to a road side shack
10am, one morning, what a morning, the peaches waited ripening to be plucked
on this rock in the north Atlantic Ocean where you grew up, the young kid Cristiano with dreams
you couldn’t hold
you didn’t wish to hold
sun over your home isle that morn in ‘04
he drank white wine
your dad
he
had a beard and
this scribe had a translator in tow
to understand your dad
who talked of you in the azure blue light;
‘twas the day after you
at 19 years old a babe
had lost the euro champs final to Greece, playing for Portugal
1-0,
Euro 2004,
a tourney
that had you having Luis Figo dropped, in your home country, so good
where you even then;
the final, I was there, the day before this day: to see Portugal/you be defeated to Greece
the land of poets/myths/odysseys;
what a summer;
so many summers in your heart
to come
the start of it all; a month or so after you struck the opener in the FA Cup Final at Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium: Man Utd 3 (Ronaldo, 44; van Nistelrooy, 65, 81) Millwall 0
so
many
summers
in
your
heart;
so many
to
come
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