Somebody robbed his attention,

The heat of the match charred every connection,

It was an idiot box or an idiot of the society,

That game or the luminary in it, was this adorer's almighty.

The chants and drums used to send a shiver down his spine,

Awestricken with a smile to see his heroes dressed to nines,

As the heroes walked the aisle towards the ground,

The electrifying buzz could be felt all around.

He moved his limbs rhythmically as he watched them move,

The game was a roller-coaster medley of agonies and groove,

The game could make strangers share booze,

And the rivalries could sometimes make friends inconnu.

A loss was a heartbreak he couldn't express,

Ecstasy of a victory could overhaul his stress.

So gay that he'd never stop blabbing about the victory story,

His tears were robbed by some victors lifting the glory.