Letter to my younger self — Bob Murphy

Letter to my younger self — Bob Murphy

By

In time, all footballers end up on the shelf,

We, the lucky ones, can now look back,

With a knowing smile and a shrug.

Kicking your footy high into the powerlines,

The fire spark in childhood dreams,

You’ll get to meet all your heroes,

Running beside you like a stream.

But listen here boy,

Listen up real good,

Play the game with heart,

Not just because you should.

This game is big and broad,

You may not love it all,

Find what you love in it,

Be sure and give it your all.

This is my club,

Over the club I play for,

Will be a journey that takes time,

Much longer than a clunky little rhyme.

Arriving there will warm your soul,

And you will never look back,

Get there as fast as you can,

Stay the line of the track.

You’ll take your hits along the way,

No one gets through unscathed,

The lasting memories will be sunny days,

Amongst the big league boys you’ll play.

Mike Brady captured all this in two lines,

An old footballer should not even try,

There’ll be days when you could give it up,

There’ll be days when you could fly.

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