Shuffling through the crowds,
Wearing my colours with pride,
The stark white, banks of blue, and slashes of yellow.
Yorkshire pride fills my heart.
My blood, is white, blue, yellow.
Horizon of bodies, feeling the same.
I miss the sound of the wooden thud,
As I walk the concrete steps
It’s dull echo a striking reminder.
The whistle blows as the wind whips my boys.
The tension, a minute in, is unbearable.
River of red facing us,
Daring us to push on, to attack.
The man in black points.
It’s too early, please not now.
Unknowingly, I hold my breath.
Tension in my fingers, my jaw, my throat,
My teeth clench,
My eyes fixed on the target,
Pushing, willing with all my might.
With a gasp, a release, I scream.
He’s done it.
The chants, roars, screams, whoops,
Fill my ears.
A child like grin on my face,
Like a Christmas morn.
Tension and ecstasy jostle for control
of my heart, my head,
for the next 90 minutes.
The man in black blows again.
Its all over, we’ve done it again.
Slowly making our way through the exit,
No longer fighting for first place.