Maradona

As a youngster

He was said

To be quite timid

And shy

But when he

Stepped

Onto the field

It was like

A light switch

That flicked

He became

Instantly alive

Activated!

In corners

Of the pitch

He couldn’t

Be trapped

For he was

Able to weave

Through narrow

Gaps and spaces

When dribbling

his feet were

Somehow

Elasticated

Who, if any

Of those coming

After

Have surpassed

His greatness?

A plucky, little

Powerhouse

Miniaturised

On the TV

We all witnessed

The sight

Of this

Argentinian guy

A mere 5 ft. 5

Inches in height

Going past Hoddle

Lineker, Shilton

In the blink of an eye

A flower

Budding

With grace

The ball

Stuck

To his laces

Winning

The World Cup

In the eighties

Then soon enough

Got corrupted

Disgraced

Destruction

And waste

Prostitutes, drugs

And stuffing

His face

Left defenders

In the dust

In his wake

It’s crushing

To say this

That he’s gone

There’ll never be

Another in

His place

Was he

The greatest?

That’s up

For much

Discussion

Debate

But in the

Pantheon

Of players

His position’s

Fixed

A flame that was

Fizzing lit up

The night sky

Who said full-grown

men, can’t cry?

For him they

Sobbed

And groaned

How on earth

Did he humiliate

Half the size

Of the England

Squad on his own?

Today , Pele,

Another master

Died

And certainly

No man’s close

To being able

To ever copy

Or clone

Their legacies

Not Mbappe

Not Messi

And never

Ronaldo