Friday, October 13, 2006

Ashton Gate in 2003

In 2003, Cardiff City faced Bristol City in a 2-legged Division 2 play off semi final. Cardiff had won the first leg, but were not expected to progress, as Bristol City were a talented side, and confident that they could beat Cardiff by a couple of goals at home. It turned out otherwise as the Bluebirds held on with a magnificent defensive display. This game was the beginning of their transition from joke team into serious contenders. I wrote this poem about the occasion:


In a corner of West England
The people sat in wait
For seventeen hundred bluebirds
To pillage Ashton Gate
Their sounds of guilt were carried
On The Waterfront's lapping waves
The streets were paved with gold they earned
By selling African slaves.

In a cold and windy tunnel
The ghost of Scoular howled
At the injustice of that April day
When the ref said Gabbi fouled
But tonight it would be different
As Lennie called them in"
Remember you don't always need
To score a goal to win."

The bridges were suspended
And Gareth Ainsworth too
So Wille Boland played out wide
And did the work of two.
Old Leggy ran away the years
Defending City's honour
But when his limbs began to ache
We replaced him with Mark Bonner

The Robins swarmed around the pitch
But they found no way to goal
Their only hope a Christian,
Who they thought had sold his soul.
But you can't turn a Cardiff man
With tainted trader's plunder
And when he lunged to get sent off
We just began to wonder.

The daffodils wilted and the dragon breathed
A defiant roar of fire
And its spirit filled the heart that night
Of the reborn Spencer Prior
Then Wilson played his final cards,
But all their hope was gone
When they saw the man they had to beat
Was Daniel Gabbidon

The Celts stood strong against their foe,
And the Anglo-Saxons whined
As Tinnion's header met the palm
Of Braveheart on the line
The night closed in and the lights came on
As the Bristol air grew darker
And still the enemy were repelled
By Weston, Croft and Barker

And as the moon shone brighter
The Men of Harlech sang
And they waved the black and yellow cross
Of Pembroke's Water Man.
The whistle went, and battle-hardened
Men began to cry,
You won't forget this famous night,
And brother, nor will I.

1 comment:

Gary said...

Eric o'r Felin i'w urddo'n aelod o'r orsedd?