Football after school became

a game within a game. Wait

until the man goes for his tea

then invade his hockey pitch.

 

No jackets for goalposts here,

real wood, sometimes even nets,

limed markings,  tonsured grass

without bare patches.

 

Teams chosen, slowcoach Steve

picked last, and off we go.

Refereed by consensus. Corners,

free kicks, won by loudest shout.

 

Strident voices raised in dispute

draw the groundsman back, irate,

stick-waving, chasing players

into no-man’s-land beyond the trees.

 

He stares, a ranting Mexican standoff

till he leaves, grumbling. Then swarm

back through the gap in the fence.

Extra time.