New Balls Please... Yes It's Another Rant... Poem by Michael Shepherd

Big sports weekend…
in a coupla hours, Wimbledon,
or to local residents, Womble-din…

someone’s gointa win; someone’s
gointa lose. That’s life
for millionaire sportspersons;
love-all. New balls please, loser…

then those post-match, post-coital,
exquisitely embarrassing how-was-it-for-you,
high-thrive or detumescent interviews…

will the dreaded HOW virus strike again?
live-mike brings on rabbit-in-the-headlights syndrome –

at the end of the day, we know
the answer – that’s what it’s all about,
all credit to the other guys…
yes, there was pressure – that’s what it’s…

it’s the questions, though, where the new
HOW virus strikes –
‘HOW pleased are you to have won? …’
‘HOW sorry are you to have lost? …’

that’s like, on a scale of nought to infinity?
No lawyer would dare to use such
a leading phrase: ‘HOW sorry, Mr Under-age X,
are you to have murdered my client…? ’
‘Objection! Objection! …’

‘Oh, I’m really sorry to have won today…
it’ll put me in the supertax bracket,
I’ll see less of the kids, with
all those personal appearances…
who’ll get the kids anyway when we divorce? …’

‘Oh I’m really glad to have lost…
gives me something to aim for, I’ll
get to see the kids more, the wife’s
quite relieved… I can still afford
the tinted windows and the limo,
then I don’t get to hear the shouts
of ‘loser! ’ when they see me…’
and anyway, the other guy
was better on the day… all credit to the lad/girl…
I’ve got better legs, I’ll get more modelling contracts
than that ugly bull-cow…’

OK that’s enough, time to switch on
to those pre-match interviews –
‘HOW confident are you of winning
today, with that extra pressure
of being the favourite…blah…blah…’

‘HOW much does the prospect
of being a nobody-yet
and playing the hugely popular favourite
with better legs and a winning smile
bother you…? ’

HOW much do you care about sport,
fatso saddo beer-belly couch-potato,
in that wanna-be-part-of-it, expensive
T-shirt…? One bowl of popcorn?
Two bowls of popcorn? How many
packets of crisps…?

Hey look at the time,
there’s high drama out there
on Henman Hill…
seeyer, chizmate..