New poet in the Club

Gerry

Find attached a little something I put together this morning (mon)

Regards

Space Cadet

 

They strode onto court, two knights of the day,

Both standing tall, chests out, ready to play,

To give their all in top tennis contest,

Three hours of battle before they can rest.

World's one and two, a fantastic match up,

Play their hearts out for glorious gold cup,

One to be victor, the other distraught,

Learning life's lessons in the name of sport.

So to begin, 2 pm, Centre Court,

Arena ready, battle to be fought,

Players with racquets, nobleman's lance,

Fleet of foot, this year's final, this last dance.

Early exchanges, both finesse and power,

Both players strong, neither to cower,

Thrust and parry, on top is our Scot,

Good for his lead, like the weather, game hot.

Showpiece final, so does it continue,

Toil, sweat, testing their sinew,

Both give all, much length to the rally,

Fierce opponents now, come conclusion all pally.

Top tennis played, Set one to our Murray,

Looks a man seeking to win in a hurry,

But wait, story changes, for now it's set two,

Seems like a fightback, no need to guess who.

Serb now, round table turned, and on top,

Leads four - one, crushing, can Andy stop,

This number one player from drawing level,

Securing set two and a scoreline to revel.

Well for what is to follow is quite remarkable,

Murray summons shots from repertoire, his arsenal,

Almost unbelievable, Oh I say!

The Scot so strong, his opponent to pay

For losing set two, Murray four - one down,

It's now two sets up, one more for the crown,

Could it be victory, in style, straight sets?

The history, Murray/Djorkovic, I'm taking no bets.

And so to set three, can it be done,

Agony, ecstasy, sports s'posed to be fun!

Novak hanging in there, not down and out,

Wants to strike back, not wanting a rout.

Our Brit, holds fast, so close to his prize,

Home Major, sports immortality tennis guise,

He's ever so closer, business end of set three,

Legendary journey, for him, you and me.

Service game broken, he leads five - four,

Serving for Championship, step through the great door,

That's reserved for winners, true sporting greats,

Witnessed by all, decided by Fates.

Splendid start, it's now forty - love,

Three match points, Gods smiling above,

Just one more point needed to muster,

Complete a performance of shine and lustre.

Surely a way back now, too much for the Serb,

To restrain the hot Scot, his victory to curb,

But superhuman effort he does summon,

In Forty degree Centre Court banqueting oven.

From forty - love down, takes it to deuce,

A twist to the tale from Olympic God Zeus?

But no, groundstroke fired into the net,

Leaving Murray to bask in glorious sunset.

Waiting so long, years seventy-seven,

Now Murray the man, Brit tennis Heaven,

We rallied his cause, in the heat of the sun,

Andy Murray, Twenty Thirteen, Wimbledon!