okay guys i wasn’t joking when i said i had the urge to write a poem - i call this one…
an ode to fa player
the weeks drag on, an endless stream
of days which just all seem the same
but then it comes, a shining beam:
the search bar where i type your name
you’re slow to load, my laptop groans
log in, breathe out,
oh wait,
you froze
log in again,
this time,
please work,
third time lucky,
this is beserk
but now the sound won’t fucking work
i press refresh, you glitch and jerk
i’m slamming my head against my desk
a loyal fan’s most gruelling test
your blue screen taunts me time again
i’ll just give up, i think,
but then!
finally, you’re sailing true
the screen no longer buffers blue
the picture? grainy
the commentary? shit
but, with the game, i don’t mind one bit
and yet you’re never quite on track
the buffering starts, the glitch is back
refresh, log in, okay, on a roll!
except now i’ve missed
a fucking goal
this is the wsl lament
the endless reams of time misspent
staring at your log in page
my watching interspersed with rage
you buffered then, you buffer still
braved only by the strong of will
your loading screen, abhorred by all,
was football’s greatest obstacle
and yet i’ll miss your shitty site
fa player,
my friend,
goodnight
