The Twelfth Man On The Pitch(Tribute To Football Fans) Poem by Uche Nwanze

The rivalry is bitter.
The atmosphere is charged.
The pressure is intense.
They rally round their troops.
The battle for three points.
The boisterous cheers.

The agony, the symphony.
It's the clash of titans.
This is war, the battle is between the
Champions and Contenders.

The cacophony of voices.
The jeers, the boos and whistling at feverish pitch.
The sound is deafening.
The twin cry of defeat and songs of
victory.

The orchestra heaps encomiums and songs of legends and their heroes rents the air.
Their voices never go hoarse.
They scream to the seventh heavens.

They never stop believing till the blast of the final whistle.
Their faith in the team never burns out even when their team is losing.
Their solidarity is unparalleled even in the eye of the storm.
Their loyalty is unflinching even when
their team is not at its best.
They may be down but never out.
Their never say die attitude is
phenomenal.

This means war, it is the battle between
fanatics and enthusiasts.
The nail biting moment, pin drop silence.
The palpable anxiety, on the edge of their seats.
Adrenaline pumping ferociously.

They roar in ecstasy when the ball hits the back of the net.
They never bury their heads in the sand.
They never bite the dust.
They do not quit or give up.
They dust themselves and pick themselves up for another challenge.

He is the twelfth man on the pitch.
He fires his team to victory.
I marvel at his drive, his desire, his passion and hunger for success.
That moment, when he breaks down in a paroxysm of tears and emotions.

He is the twelfth man on the pitch.