The Man from Uruguay

His name was Danny Bergara, the Man from Uruguay

He came to us from Rochdale, we all wondered…why?

It didn’t take too long for us to understand the reason, 

as he took us to the ‘play-offs’ at the end of his first full season.

And then the following year, with the wheels in full motion, 

a truly memorable campaign, ended with promotion. 

We had a team to be proud of; and were always on a high,

He put Stockport County on the map, the Man from Uruguay.

Our team was always in the news, both in print and on TV,

And soon he took us to a Cup Final for all the world to see.

Danny led his team out at Wembley; the sun was blazing in the sky,

The 1st foreigner to do so, the Man from Uruguay. 

We went to Wembley twice that week, both games ended in defeat

Danny took us back twice more, the taste was bittersweet.

Even though County lost all four games, he told us not to cry,

He made us all believe in him, the Man from Uruguay.

His six years at Edgeley Park were the best many had ever seen,

He gave us a new sense of pride in our ‘little’ football team. 

He laid down the foundations for the club to aim up high,

He will always be Sir Daniel, the Man from Uruguay.

And now we mourn his passing, a time of sadness and great loss,

To those who will regard him as the club’s greatest ever ‘boss’.

He will be remembered as a ‘legend’ as time goes by and by,

We will always be grateful for our time, with the Man from Uruguay.

When I was a toddler, I was good never bad,

All I ever thought of, was going to footie with dad.

But I was very poorly, and my mum was so sad,

She could see all I wanted, was to go to footie with dad.

Lots of dads go to the game, every week, with their lad,

And I often dreamed of going to footie with dad.

I always knew that when I got better, I’d be glad,

Because then I’d be strong enough, to go to footie with dad.

Then came the day I felt better, the best I ever had,

My dreams all came true, and I went to the footie with dad.

Our team lost the game, but I was happy not sad,

All that mattered to me, was being at footie with dad.

So, if you’re born poorly, don’t get angry or mad,

Just keep your focus on going, to footie with dad.

Or even going to footie, with mum, gran or grandad,

But for me it’s the best, going to footie with dad.

Julian's son was born very ill and during those early years he thought that he would never get the chance to take his son to a football match, thankfully he is now a healthy boy and the two of them are busy making up for lost time. Julian now runs a great charity helping kids get to football games see his website www.footiewithdad.com

I organise the practice sessions, I co-ordinate the drills

On match day pick my best eleven, to give the fans their thrills

I will give pre-match instructions, on how to win this game

Because I know, should it not go to plan, I’m the one that takes the blame

If my gangly centre-forward, scores the best header ever seen

And my goalie keeps another clean sheet, all the praise goes to the team

But when results have gone against them, and the crowd they are all booing

I’m the one who gets the chant, “You don’t know what you’re doing”

With a win it’s the best job in the world, the worst with every loss

You have to be of strong heart and mind, to become a football boss

For every one that gets the sack, another ten step up

With promises to win the league, or at least the FA Cup

The day I took the manager’s oath, was the end of my personal life

The team became my children, the club became my wife

Bill Shankly’s quotes always keep me going, when I’m feeling down and flat

“Football isn’t a matter of life or death”, “It’s much more important than that”

If I can be half the man he was, my career path will gleam

But it’ll be long hard road from where I sit, 

As manager of the under 8’s football team

I wrote this after one particular weekend where I had once again had to ask parents, from both sides of a junior team game, to remember why they were there. It wasn't the first and it certainly wasn't the last time I had words with parents. 

Football, we love it, we would watch it all day long,

24 hours a day on telly, how could that be seen as wrong?

We would give up almost everything, to see our favourite game,

But we have to sleep at some stage, which really is a shame

And it’s not just us normal folk, who really the love the sport,

The game is watched by royalty, at least that’s what we’re taught.

It’s watched in places like Burundi, Kiribati and Peru,

Even in Antarctica, SKY Sports can show a game to you.

The real beauty of footie, is its open to one and all,

You just need a place to play and something resembling a ball.

A pair of rolled up socks, an old tin can, even a cabbage will do. 

A set of nets, maybe a referee, and of course a player or two!

The game’s been played since time began, and some of it has changed,

Especially the offside rule, which is constantly re-arranged.

Two teams, two kits, a football pitch and most importantly a ball,

Are all the ingredients required to play, the greatest game of all.

From Accrington to Zanzibar and all the places in between,

You will find a football fanatic who is crazy for their team.

From the Premier to The National League or even a Sunday football club,

You can debate every minute of every game, with a pint down at the pub.

Because after all that’s where they are, the best players ever seen,

Sat in their armchairs, or in the pub, discussing just what might have been.

With their ‘ifs and ands’, their ‘rights and wrongs’ and many other cases,

That ‘diving cheat’ and even ‘world’s best player’, are not fit to tie their laces.

It’s a funny old game, a game of two halves, 

where’s your father referee?

It’s more important than life and death, 

Well at least it is to me. 

When all said and done, we love the game, through ecstasy and sorrow,

But the greatest thing about football is, 

There’s another game tomorrow!