Ghosts - The Phantom Footballer Poem by Paul Warren

Don was the best player of the Southern Sons football team
The way he ran up and down the ground was the coach's dream
Each game he played they could see his strength, skill and style
And no-one could catch him when he wanted to run a mile

When the season minor round matches were at an end
Don won the Mail Medal that year in a win he did not have to defend
The Southern Sons hadn't made the Grand Final for twenty years
And the district was a buzz with talk of a premiership no fears

The day of the Grand Final dawned cold, blustery and in teeming rain
When the teams took to the oval to see who would get the day's fame
It was a struggle as the rain became stronger and each team did their best
The final quarter started 4 goals each as the score meant for both no rest

They traded goals until the last minute of the game when scores were tied
And the Southern Suns wrestled it to the 50 metre line in the mud as it was mired
The precious seconds ticked away until the melee moved to the kick off line
And the rain and the mud made it hard to see who was winning in the grime

There were still muddied bodies on the deck struggling for the ball
When they saw Don get out of the pack shaking off an opposition maul
He took two steps, steadied and passed the ball to a team mate on the goal line
Who kicked it through the goal to score just as the siren called full time

The Southern Sons won the Grand Final and the team celebrated on the ground
Until they looked for Don who wasn't with his team and so they looked around
Their gaze turned to where the melee had occurred and he was lying face down
The doctor was called but Don was dead a broken neck that they found

They scratched their heads and wondered how Don could pass the ball
While he was dead on the ground at the bottom of the pack as his call
Perhaps Don just knew his team call and even in death wanted to score
So the legend was born of Don's premiership goal-assist in town lore

Sometimes around Finals time in the gathering twilight
You may see a lone figure near the goals just to the right
He has a smile on his face as he lines up to kick a goal
Then disappears as the ball sails through in total control.

© Paul Warren Poetry