Inspired by the Men in Blazers, I whipped up this crap poem. GFOPs will find it subotimal and non-GFOPs will find it incomprehensible.
The pitch awaits its magic spray
Blades of emerald freshly shorn
Guinness fills a Courage mug
Quite early Sunday morn
A freshly minted soccer buff
One man must choose a team
QPR or Hull or Stoke
Or one that's more mainstream?
Coming from the colonies
No squad by fate of birth
He has the freedom to decide
In the freest place on earth
A choice of such great magnitude
Would vex Solomon or Sophie
It mustn't be suboptimal -
An Arsène Wenger trophy
An analysis must be performed
Team selection based on facts
Study sponsors, players, managers
Not to mention best neck tats
Boom! Patterns begin to emerge
Synapses fire and brainwaves ripple
The kit is an important thing
How tight and how much nipple?
Many things define a man:
His cuffs and length of sleeve
Or naturally remaining bald
Over hair system and weave
But color stands above them all
The choices: red or blue
A vendepunkt inevitable
Our man defined by hue
He polls the tiny delegates
Living in his head
Fifty seem to favor blue
The other fifty red
Can red and blue both harmonize?
By nature they're opposed
There is one who pulls it off
And her name's Rebecca Lowe
Crystal Palace is her team
Both red and blue with pride
Like Kyle Martino's huge tie knot
Her love too big to hide
It isn't just a recent thing
A lifelong love of club
More than a Simon Rodger crush
And a signed bottle of bub
"If Palace is the team for Lowe"
Rightly thinks our man
"Then they are the team for me"
The newest Eagles fan
Red and blue can coexist
Our hero realized
And now that he has picked his team
The day is fully sized
