Stiliyan 'stan' Petrov. Poem by THE HOLY POET

That number stood wherever he played
And in that minute, thousands prayed
No silence but applause from fans
Throughout the world for Stan The Man.
At Villa Park tears filled his eyes
The next day it was Paradise
Where sixty thousand sang his name
And banners flew throughout the game.
Respected by his peers and foes
We remembered days not long ago
Where this humble man, so proud, upright,
Loved to wear the green and white.
He never stopped, he'd run all day
In his own peculiar, lunging way
A midfield ace with workman's flair
Who battled hard but battled fair.
He loved a scrap and loved a fight
Our 19 fought for all that's right
His goals would grace the greatest show
And we were sad to see him go
Though not as sad as we feel now
As Stan was dealt a hammer blow
He's battling now a force unseen
His diagnosis unforeseen.
God bless you Stan, you're in our prayers
Let your family share our thoughts and cares
If God exists, let it be seen
And cure our Stan who wears 19.