Property of RKB


BENNETT YOU'RE OFF SIDE ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett

When first I kicked a ball,
I was very small,
Selected to play upon the wing.

I had a wee bit of pace,
An average kind of face,
From the bye line I made the ball ping.

I thought that I was in heaven,
When he gave me the shirt number seven.
Nothing that day could dent my pride,
They called me Bennett You're Offside.

Just a wee lad of nine,
Following instructions to hug the line.
I remember I scored a goal that day,
A life in the game I was well on my way.

I lay in a hospital bed,
With blood oozing from a wound in my head.
A few operations I've had to have done,
To play the game for fun.

In the box I was lethal and fast
I've been the unused sub,
Took the card around the pub
I've been off work with a plaster cast.

I've seen tantrums and fights,
Played under floodlights,
A tackle or two was late.
I've got arthritic dodgy knees
Ignored 'don't play again please'
But football was my fate.

I've taken the early bath,
He wasn't really hurt he was having a laugh.
I've played in a men's team
Just turning fifteen,
The dressing room humour was fun.
Bowling green pitches butterfly stitches,
Played in the same team as my son.

Oh the game of football
Leads you a merry dance,
Dislocations and scars
Hit the net and crossbars,
And I've missed the easy chance.

Father time slowed down my tricks,
So I called it a day aged about forty-six.
And now over fifty I recall it all,
The ups and downs in the life of football.
To some it is only a game,
As I'm setting off to a match in the rain.
Then a photo in a frame catches my eye,
And many a season has passed on by.
Chalked on the well faded brown leather ball,
Is the year of 1963.
In the front row is Bennett you're offside,
That's what they were shouting at me.



Bennett You're Offside © Robbie Kennedy Bennett












Six Loud Scotsmen © Robbie Kennedy Bennett












MY ADIDAS SANTIAGO ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett

I recall how bright the floodlights were,
When I played on Fellows Park.
They were nothing quite like the old streetlights,
Where I learned my skills in the dusk and the dark.

My Adidas Santiago gleamed,
And distracted a driver or two.
After tea every day where could I play?
What else could a football youngster do?

The ball that I used sometimes went on the road
I had to then make chase,
That's where I learned to use my speed
It was where I needed my pace.

I often pass by that same old field
And see boys playing there like I used to do,
I remember the time I heard the news
A Police car had hit and killed Michael Pugh.

He was only chasing a ball,
Now there are bushes and shrubs five feet tall.
Too late to save a young boy who's gone,
Planted where my Adidas Santiago shone.

Property of RKB

In the spring of 2007 work started on erecting a perimeter fence around the Dixon Street playing fields.
By the summer it was complete,
Too late to save a boy who's gone,
Built where my Adidas Santiago shone.



My Adidas Santiago © Robbie Kennedy Bennett








Yours truly scoring a goal for the Rovers

I ONCE WAS A SEDGLEY ROVER ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett


Old team photos remind me of the day,
When I was younger and able to play.
All of the memories and friends that I made,
Wherever I chose to ply my trade.
Now it's all gone and it's over,
I once was a Sedgley Rover.
A name of respectable football recognition,
With history, style and tradition.

I made my home debut on the Tenscore,
Admiring the Staffordshire, Shropshire view.
The old colliery land of Baggeridge,
Wombourne and Himley too.
The local amateur football scene was fantastic,
Socks around ankles,
Or tied up with tape or elastic.
This Black Country town and its people,
The pitch in the shadow of All Saints steeple.
This all made me proud to pull over,
The shirt of a Sedgley Rover.

Boarding the coach in the Bull Ring,
Saturday's here there's a venue to find.
The Rovers set off from Sedgley,
Leaving the height of the Beacon behind.
The White Horse pub for Tuesday meetings.
The Station Hotel in Dudley,
Presentation awards and greetings.

Harry Love, Sidney Partridge and Charlie Hale,
Gave me fond memories,
And I can still tell a tale.
About games that we won or we lost,
A referee and two captains
Without a coin to be tossed.
And now it's all gone and it's over,
I once was a Sedgley Rover.




Story and poem printed in the BLACK COUNTRY BUGLE.
www.blackcountrybugle.co.uk/blackcountrybugle-sport/displayarticle.asp?id=135485

I Once Was A Sedgley Rover © Robbie Kennedy Bennett













THE ROWLEY NAME ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett

In my line is the Rowley name,
Goal scoring records and football fame.
War torn interrupted professional careers,
Once more I reflect on bygone years.
My Grandad was a Rowley too,
Been paid to play if he wanted to.
But Nan she always knew the score,
Keep the bad wolf from our door.
A cartilage injury I also heard,
Was that the reason and not Nan's strong word.
So cousin George chose not to play the game,
Jack and Arthur progressed to football fame.
When he was about age sixty-seven,
I would then be around eleven.
We were kicking a ball on a Somerset beach,
My modern skills I tried to teach.
But he had such a delicate touch,
That impressed I can't describe how much.
I forgot my Grandad was a Rowley too,
Been paid to play if he wanted to.
I noticed how soon he selected his pass,
On a Somerset beach not on a field of grass.
One day when I was just sixteen,
I played right back in a proYouth Team.
He came to Stafford to see me play,
I remember it well, except the score that day.
Come the time about twenty-two,
I knew it all like young men do.
He was watching me play there on the line,
I think that day I was number nine.
I can't recall another game,
After that match that my Grandad came.
I've never forgot he was a Rowley too,
Been paid to play if he wanted to.
Although time fades and less they preach,
I saw it all on a Somerset beach.
Goal scoring records and football fame.
The highly reputable Rowley name.


Story Behind The Poem

On the day my story about walking part of the Fife Coastal Path had been printed in the Black Country Bugle. I soon had complimentary messages about the story and poem. When finding picture poems to send out to relevant people I found a part extract of the poem 'I Should Have Played For Ladybank Violet' printed on a photo when I was running in Bridgnorth. When looking at the photo that was taken in the early 1980's I remembered that my Grandad was also there standing behind whoever took the photo. We have a picture of him taken the other way looking immaculate as usual. At that moment I brought together both of my sporting family lines.


The Rowley Name © Robbie Kennedy Bennett








© Robbie Kennedy Bennett

© Robbie Kennedy Bennett

© Robbie Kennedy Bennett










Property of RKB

HA' WAY THE LADS ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett 2004

The April wind blew strong
From the north east sea,
Even though that breeze blew hard
The sun shone down on me.

Ha'way the lads he shouted
And the breeze blew harder still,
Ha'way the lads he shouted
This man upon the hill.

The April wind blew stronger
As I heard his north east call,
Ha'way the lads he shouted
To the boys who kicked the ball.

And he still calls out behind me
In the wind up by that coast,
This Sunderland voice shouts loudly
For the team he loves the most.

The sky grew heavy quickly
And soon the rain did fall,
Ha'way the lads he shouted
To the boys who kicked the ball.

These lads were young and wiry
They could hardly fill their kit,
The stripes were heavy and sodden
Their teeth were tightly grit.

Yes the sky grew heavy quickly
Even though the sun still shone,
In the strange north eastern weather
His call he carried on.

Ha'way the lads he shouted
Ha'way to one and all,
Ha'way the lads he shouted
To the boys who kicked the ball.


Ha' Way The Lads © Robbie Kennedy Bennett










CHELSEA DAYS OF DOCHERTY ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett

Chelsea days of Docherty,
A team of skill and flair.
This silk like precious time,
In their day were so divine.
Chelsea days of Docherty,
Made many a shining star.
In folk law days,
Supporter's praise,
How great they are.
Chelsea days of Docherty,
Were streets ahead by many a mile.
His stern like type of characters played
A flamboyant exuberant style.
The Chelsea side in Dochertys' day,
Got the ball down and 'boy' could they play.
This present time seems so unreal,
They were made of British steel.


Chelsea Days of Docherty © Robbie Kennedy Bennett

ADDITIONAL INFO
I wrote this poem the day before I was due to see the 'Doc' as a guest speaker.
He spoke affectionately of the young team he had assembled at Stamford Bridge.
He then went on to name many players.
It was noticeable that his voice became stronger with the inner pride he had for them.
He quoted 'it was a special time in my managerial career'.










The Albion, Conwy, Wales.
Property of RKB

THE KING IS IN THE CHIP SHOP ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett

I had a mate who was a Baggies fan
Who was hungry for his tea,
So he stopped at a shop for fish and chips
As his wife sat waiting patiently.

He opened the door on the driver's side,
'You'd never guess who I saw inside'.
Startled she was by his question then,
All of a sudden he spoke again.

'The King is in the chip shop',
He said excitedly,
'The King is in the chip shop',
'He was in the queue with me'.

Well it couldn't be Elvis Presley
From Memphis Tennessee,
If the King is in the chip shop?
Who then could it be?

What could've happened there inside?
As she sat in the seat on the passenger side.
She had a confusing thought,
His life did change in a moment
Fish and chips were bought.

She asked him ' will you please calm down'
As he fumbled for the key to start their car,
'If the King is in the chip shop'
'Explain how excited that you are'.

All was answered in a flash
Everything was plain to see,
And it wasn't Elvis Presley
From Memphis Tennessee,

The King was in the chip shop
Ordering his tea,
'Jeff Astle was in the chip shop' he said
'He stood in a queue with me'.


The King Is In The Chip Shop © Robbie Kennedy Bennett






Property of RKB


Scotland v England
Hampden Park Glasgow
1 April 1933
Attendance 134,710

With eight minutes to go Jimmy McGrory of Scotland blasted the winning goal past Hibbs the England goalkeeper to take Scotland into a 2-1 lead.

If the terraces of Hampden Park had been roofed then, the noise of jubilant Scot’s would have lifted them off.

Quote from Bob McPhail who played and passed the ball to Jimmy McGrory that day, ‘If I knew nothing about the ‘Hampden Roar’ before that moment, I certainly felt the full force of it right there and then’. ‘The noise from the crowd must have broken every window within a mile radius’.

The line in my poem ‘I’ve seen the written word’ refers to the book
HEROES ARE FOREVER, The Life and Times of Celtic Legend Jimmy McGory by John Cairney.

McGory's record in first class games is 550 goals in 547 games.



McGrory Scored And Hampden Roared © Robbie Kennedy Bennett










Property of RKB

THE SUMMER OF 1966 ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett

England were prepared upon the day,
Germany came to Wembley to take the Jules Rimet trophy away.
Gordon Banks the Leicester goalkeeper was the countries best,
Ray Wilson and George Cohen they withstood the test.
The elegant Bobby Moore and Jack Charlton so brave,
When beaten Banks of England made another great save.
The immaculate Bobby Charlton with his balding head and all,
The young ginger lad from Blackpool the tireless Alan Ball.
Little Bally and Nobby Styles they covered every inch,
When the Germans were in possession they’d rob, steel and pinch.
The ghostly Martin Peters, Roger Hunt would run all day,
Was the ball over the goal line?
Well Roger turned away.
The summer crowd at Wembley sweated out a huge thirst,
It was worth it because they witnessed a hat-trick from Geoff Hurst.
Assembled by Alf Ramsey now in the history book,
On DV or video grandchildren can take a look.
Twin towers, a Russian linesman, a July summer day,
With the Jules Rimet trophy Nobby jigged and danced away.

Property of RKB


© Robbie Kennedy Bennett
Written 1992



Printed on the website
Football Poets
24/04/2007

Within hours of forwarding this poem that I wrote in 1992 to the website in 2007, I heard that Alan Ball had sadly died of a heart attack. Having never aired this poem before that I had written in 1992 it was strange that it coincided with Bally's death.






Property of RKB








Property of RKB



I Suppose It Was Hughie McIlmoyle © Robbie Kennedy Bennett

© Poetic Writing of Robbie Kennedy Bennett | created at www.mrsite.com