attila
1997 Club
Clearing out a load of old poetry files I came across this.
I wrote it for the presentation evening Albion Roar (I think) did for Calde years ago.
I thought some of you might like to read it and raise one more glass to remember a great Albion servant.
Calde, Borrokalaria lagurnarteko
Calde, the Friendly Fighter
Now this is modern football. Murdoch doesn’t give a shit.
‘Your match has moved to Sunday week at 2? Get on with it!’
So we swap shifts, piss off our wives and husbands, change our plans:
The game has gone beyond a farce, but we’re still loyal fans.
Some players are quite happy to embrace a stereotype:
Young, rich gods put on pedestals of endless, mindless hype
By media who then love it when they fall flat on their arse.
But Calde sees through all of that, cos Calde’s different class.
A son of Euskal Herria, the land of Kortatu
Of sagardoa, Sortu, sheep’s cheese, great chorizo too
A unique and ancient language, one which Franco tried to banish
And a long string of abusive words for folk who call them ‘Spanish’!
He is our Basque ambassador, the Albion’s friendly face.
He’ll play any position and never give up the chase.
A hundred percent on the pitch, and, off it, just the same:
A credit to the Albion. A credit to the game.
It’s such a wondrous privilege, being paid to live your dream:
In football, that should mean much more than playing for the team.
It’s work in the community, young kids to be inspired
It’s signing one more autograph, still smiling, when you’re tired.
And, Calde, you do this and more. You’re Brighton through and through.
This celebration evening shows what our fans think of you.
So eskerrik asko, burkide. Kind, good-hearted, clever -
And you can score goals with your face, so you can stay for ever!
I wrote it for the presentation evening Albion Roar (I think) did for Calde years ago.
I thought some of you might like to read it and raise one more glass to remember a great Albion servant.
Calde, Borrokalaria lagurnarteko
Calde, the Friendly Fighter
Now this is modern football. Murdoch doesn’t give a shit.
‘Your match has moved to Sunday week at 2? Get on with it!’
So we swap shifts, piss off our wives and husbands, change our plans:
The game has gone beyond a farce, but we’re still loyal fans.
Some players are quite happy to embrace a stereotype:
Young, rich gods put on pedestals of endless, mindless hype
By media who then love it when they fall flat on their arse.
But Calde sees through all of that, cos Calde’s different class.
A son of Euskal Herria, the land of Kortatu
Of sagardoa, Sortu, sheep’s cheese, great chorizo too
A unique and ancient language, one which Franco tried to banish
And a long string of abusive words for folk who call them ‘Spanish’!
He is our Basque ambassador, the Albion’s friendly face.
He’ll play any position and never give up the chase.
A hundred percent on the pitch, and, off it, just the same:
A credit to the Albion. A credit to the game.
It’s such a wondrous privilege, being paid to live your dream:
In football, that should mean much more than playing for the team.
It’s work in the community, young kids to be inspired
It’s signing one more autograph, still smiling, when you’re tired.
And, Calde, you do this and more. You’re Brighton through and through.
This celebration evening shows what our fans think of you.
So eskerrik asko, burkide. Kind, good-hearted, clever -
And you can score goals with your face, so you can stay for ever!
