Musa Okwonga – Paul Scholes: A Tribute

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In his first few years at United,
He wasn’t seen as the danger.
It was just Beckham, Keane, Giggs -
And some ginger.
Sometimes, he seemed to bring his shyness
Onto the field of play,
Waiting politely for everyone to enter the box
Before he did:
After you, after you,

Letting his other team-mates approach,
Then sending ahead the ball, and, last of all,
Silently slipping in at the far post:
Head down, always down, in an aggressive burst,
Like a fervent worshipper arriving late for church.
I don’t know how he managed
To stay so long out of the media’s sight
.
Perhaps because his shots travelled faster than the speed of hype.
Perhaps it was his playing style, elegant and minimal,
Often seeing even two-touch as too much.
Whatever his ploy, it was several seasons till I heard his voice,
Since those quietly great have others to speak for their legend:
People like Zidane, who considered him an equal.
He was a man of erratic passion,
Followed by fiery confetti
Throughout his career, conjuring plumes of red and yellow
From topmost pockets:
But those sins are forgiven
For all the rhythm he brought to endless games,
Over which on YouTube we can cast our endless gaze.
Paul Scholes: twenty-odd medals, all told:
He came, he saw;
He scored goals.

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