|Holding Out For A Hero|
Written by SE1blue on Tuesday, 30th Oct 2012 11:20
Somewhere after midnight.
“What are you drinking Ipswich?”
“Make it the usual.”
“A Town On The Rocks coming right up”.
Bluey stops wiping the bar and disappears out back for some ice. I take the chance to steal a look in the mirror behind the counter. I don’t like what I see.
My debts are getting bigger, my fans are thinning and no matter how much make-up I apply to my turnstiles, I can’t hide the beatings I’ve been taking of late. What’s happened to my youthful looks? I’m all loaned out and I stink of relegation. I’ve never felt more like singing the blues.
In my wildest fantasy
Sinatra plays on the jukebox and I can see Bobby and me doing things our way. We were a match made in heaven. It wasn’t like that from the start. People had said that we weren’t right for each other, but Bobby knew the way to treat a club. He took time to get to know me, started things slowly, he made me feel like I was part of a family.
It wasn’t long before he took me to London, got me some silver and I knew we were made for each other. He bought me Dutch masterpieces with the money he made. He took me to Europe; Barcelona, Paris, Milan. We turned heads wherever we went.
Somewhere just beyond my reach
Just when I thought we could conquer the world, it all came to an end. I should have known that England would be sniffing around. I gave Bobby thirteen of the very best years of his life. What did England give him? A hand-job in Mexico and a disappointing semi in Italy.
But I don’t blame Bobby for leaving me, we made sweet, sweet football history together and I’ll always have his stand to hold onto.
After Bobby, I tried another Bobby (it’s never the same), a Duncan (let’s not go there) and a Lyall (that was fun for a while) but things never felt quite right.
There's someone reaching back for me
At Christmas in 1994, there was little festive cheer. Portman Road had no crackers, just a bunch of turkeys getting stuffed every weekend. But then Christmas came Burley. I know, I know, I found that one painful too.
George and I went way back. He had been knocking around when me and Bobby were together.
He said he had a five-year plan that would climax with Premiership football. There were moments I doubted him. Others said I’d always be the bridesmaid and never the bride. But George knew all about four play (offs) and soon had me screaming in London, before whisking me off around Europe.
However, just when I thought I had found my new Bobby, George blew all our money on Sereni the Bikini (he only came out when the sun was shining) and a Finidi I didn’t needy.
I was down but took comfort with my Royle with cheese. Well, he was more like a Big Mac, large fries, six nuggets, apple pie, McFlurry and a Coke, but Joe knew how to make me happy, even with an empty wallet.
But when the money completely ran out, my Royle with cheese burgered off. Don’t worry, not much further to go now.
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
After BFJ, they promised me Magic, but he tinkered too much and soon made himself disappear. Roy tried to “treat ‘em mean and keep ‘em Keane” but look how that one worked out.
Marcus bought me a Jewell but that soon lost its sparkle. So, now I sit here alone drinking at Those Were The Days, thumbing through my little black book,
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet
Who do I choose? Alan, Owen, George, Matt, the other Alan, Mark or Gary? You must be taking the Micky!
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