John Atyeo died today aged sixty-one,
A heart attack;
As if yesterday
I watched him attack defences,
A man with a lion’s heart;
Hungry, a predator for goals,
As if yesterday
I was a boy with dreams
Willing to die for my hero,
Alive with him every moment
Scoring for Bristol City and England.
His goals were wondrous and sublime
As when upon the crowd’s roar
I hammered shot after shot crashing
Into an unsympathetic neighbour’s fence;
I only did it for Bristol City,
But I was misunderstood,
Constantly penalised for bad conduct.
This never happened to Gentleman John,
Exemplary behaviour on and off the field.
I loved the man and all he stood for;
(Making me stand in an orderly line
Holding on to his photo hoping he’d sign).
So, the dream ends?
For me football was truly a beautiful game,
John so burly but with surprising skill,
A huge heart that beat loyally for Bristol;
(Not cynically sponsored and measured for loot
But wholesome and blessed with a magical boot).
For the urchin from Hartcliffe striving to be a man
It was Big John of the City scoring great goals
Forever stirring the heart, but so much more,
He fired the imagination,
And in looking skywards
I began to believe that one day
All my dreams would come true.