A BOOKING FOR THE REFEREE

You've been booked for the big one-
Cup Final, the Millennium.

Smooth the silk of your kit with your palm,
test the whistle's shrill alarm.

What's this- shinpads? Well you never know
if some mad fool will have a go.

Tuck the notebook in your pocket.
Put your money in the locker. Lock it.

Look in the mirror at your poker face stare-
you're no Collina but you're no wilting flower.

You're the Law, the Judge, the Man in the Middle.
Whoever wins, you'll get your medal.

Check your watch, wind it up-
like you did to that player in the FA Cup

Third Round, Prenton Park, you came down hard-
drew a flush of reds and said : pick a card, any card.