Monday 22 March 2010

Could Poetry be the Language of Football?

After a week of footballic silence (during which the Codgers received the indirect blessing of Italian well-known tactical awareness- courtesy of Luca who was in Salerno), that was interrupted only by some unbelievable rumors concerning Ravi (apparently an offer to buy him arrived from the Tourism Department Team only to be unanimously rejected by the Codgers' board), we are happy to announce the return of our heroes in action: next Friday (26 March at Sakarya pitch). The opposition -again- will be the ELH team for what is going to become a never ending saga of football and passionate rivalry.

To conclude, many people wrote to the blogger asking for the origins of the name Golden Codgers; so we are very very happy to provide all our fans with the answer, courtesy of the unbelievable literary knowledge of William 'Dusty' Spates.
For us poetry is definitively the language of football;

There all the GOLDEN CODGERS lay,
There the silver dew,
And there the great water sighed forlove,
And the wind sighed too.
Man-picker Niahm leant and sighed
By Oisin in the grass;
There sighed amid his choir of love
Tall Pythagoras.
Plotinus came and looked about,
The salt-flakes on his breast,
And having stretched and yawned aw...

[Yeats]

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