I thought at first it was just a slip of the tongue
A simple error that anyone could make
For as I spread the marmalade upon my toast
And heard him explain more about it
I understood what it was that he was saying
When he announced that my favourite club
Was to be punished by deduction of points
A reprimand and a heavy fine
You see, they’d broken the rules more than once
And fielded what he said was an illegible player
Which made the breakfast table fade right away
And as the sports reporter’s voice carried on
I was transported back to the touchline
From where I’d watched on Saturday last
And where I’d sought in
vain to spot the winger
His whereabouts being uncertain,
if not obscure
I just couldn’t make
him out at all
The pass went out to him to run down the wing
In an attempt to perhaps defeat the off-side trap
But he just wasn’t there, and the ball went into touch
His position being indecipherable
His off-the-ball movement unreadable
He was totally anonymous in the game
Occupying a lacuna of space out on the right
An unseen presence, missing in action
His role in the side no more than a mystery
Then the room came sharply back into focus
With the shelf and the radio all present
The toast soft and buttery in my left hand
My mug of tea gone cold and un-drunk
And the announcer now on a different story
Having moved on from the offence and the investigation
To the scores elsewhere in the league
I’m still not sure that I’d heard him quite right
But on sober morning reflection
I think he used the right word after all
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013
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