FOOTBALL

Stratford Evening Post, Volume I, Issue 499, 22 July 1932, Page 7

FOOTBALL

NO REPLACEMENTS: A BALLAD (By Sin bad. in 1 lie Christchurch Star.) It was half-past five in (ho crowded bar, and a footballer sad was (here He was black and blue from his hat to his shoe, and iie’d lost sonic locks i f hair. You could still descry, in his ear and his eye, (ho marks of a gory fray. And he sadly sang, as he drank his pint, this doleful little lay: ‘■Oh. I am the halt and direequarters bold, the dee .eighths and fullback, too. The hookers, the leek and (he breakaways, all packed in o one yen view. I'm all that is left of a brave fifteen, line umpires and n f ree’ To knocks o’ (lie field limy have all had to yield—there’s nobody left but me. ‘Full fifteen strong we began the match, and an excellent team we had. A rattling pa ■!;, and our young halfback was a promising serf of lad; The way our packs threw the ball about filled the gi amlstaiul folk with glee, Till our first five-eighth stopped a hefty boot, and they gave his job to me. “My usual place is at breakaway, but I think that I held my own, Till our fullback too had to leave the field with a broken collarbone, edj leg, and our skipper, looking blue, Said to me, ‘We must shuffle the backs a bit —you’ll have to play halfback too.’ “Then he retired with an ankle sprained while trying to take a pet, And as lie already combined two jobs, I had to take the lot. Our centre bold was the next knock, ed cold —concussion that stretched him flat; And our other backs being ordered off, I was then left on my pat. “Our forwards still had been carrying on. as all good forwards do, But a broken rib and a gammy knee, reduced their ranks by two. At four o’clock there was only one to hold the fort with me; Then he got his, for by some mistake, he woodened the referee. “Now both line umpires long ere this had quailed at the gory sight, And the whistle-holder’s downfall new impelled them to take flight. Alone I held the field against oppon. cuts fifteen strong. And that is why, as 1 drain my glass, I sing this doleful song: “Oh, 1 am the fullback and breakaway, the centre and the wing. The five-eighths line and the hookers fine, the looks and everything; The Zambuks and the scoreboard men, timekeepers and referee, So tell James Baxter, ere I die there’s nobody, left but me.”