By Paz Bassra
The fans came to every game, they flocked.
Your flowing locks bouncing as you beat one and then two.
You ducked inside from the left and struck the ball true.
The talented talisman of White Hart Lane.
Everyone remembers that Barnsley game.
Match of the Day had no choice but to sing your praise.
Even though Manu won the treble and they were the craze.
You won over our hearts and, in all honesty, football that season was you.
The ball stuck to your feet like it was held there with glue.
There were shampoo adverts and ladies worldwide.
But it was all about your play, goals and assists so sublime.
You weren’t playing for France, and England had no left-hand side.
You seemed a perfect fit for the 3 Lions, in a ten year-old’s mind.
You were ninety-eight/ninety-nine’s Player of the Season.
Your international omission seemed to carry neither rhyme nor reason.
The stage would have been made for you.
You were far superior to Zizou.
Oh, what you could have done with Campbell and Becks?!
Oh, what you could have done with Blanc and Djorkaeff?!
The temperamental Frenchman of free spirit,
Managers worldwide agreed you were worth it.
By Paz Bassra (@PazBassra)